Happy Birthday Sweetpotato!!

Yes, I very happy birthday to the love of my life, one Potato, Sweet (and yes he is so very sweet). You look even better than the day I met you honey (but my God, he is O-L-D!) I'm practically a child bride in comparison, which is a good thing cause someone's gonna have to push the wheelchair up the ramp to the kiddie's graduations and I'll still be in good shape!!

I kid of course, because I love. But I do have something to say to Mister Potato regarding last night's comments about his cake. Now y'all know I like to bake, I have a Recipe Book of my favorite Carbohydrates and Cocktails right on my website, but that doesn't mean I'm looking to win any contests here. You see, last night I set about making His favorite birthday cake, which requires considerable more effort than the grocery store variety of my childhood, hell I even made a lemon filling from scratch! Now it may have happened once or twice that in my baking excitement I haven't let the cake or the filling cool properly, leading to a very messy, very oozy, and very ugly situation. And of course, this may have occurred more than once, and of course Sweetpotato had been there to witness it every time. Hence He has decided that I lack the caking acumen I so profess.

Now look here, I have never claimed to make pretty cakes, I have only claimed to make good cakes, and you can rest assured the cake sittin' in my refrigerator at this very moment is the best tasting cake He's ever had. I have yet to find to a mixture of lard and sugar that doesn't yield yummy results and who the hell cares what it looks like anyway? If you're more concerned with the decorations then you clearly aren't spending enough time eating the icing!

So my darling Sweetpotato, you can either appreciate the way I slaved in the kitchen all evening and tell me it's the best birthday of your life, or I will return all your presents and feed your cake to the dog. Happy Birthday Honey!

Star Jones is Over!!!

Now I know, that in a previous post entitled Stretching the Seam, I vowed never to speak of her again, but my friends, there comes a time when all good trash-talkers must eat their words. I simply cannot hold it in any longer...(and you will notice that I refuse to put up one picture of her post weight-loss)

PRAISE THE LORD, STAR JONES REYNOLDS IS G-O-N-E!!

I mean to tell you, I am just so happy to hear that everyone thinks she's a bitch, I can hardly stand myself. No more alien head ruining your morning television, and we can stop listening to her pretend she knows a damn thing about the law or has ever worn a pair of Pay-less Shoes (hell, they couldn't hold up under all that pressure, even thin she's too much)

And ob-nox-ious....there isn't a person on this planet as socially unaware and morally defunct as this woman who thinks anyone in America give a shit about her love life. Puh-leez! Now that she's off the air, you know that marriage is going South too - as in her husband will heading down to Miami play with his boyfriends on Southbeach. He is just about gayer than Ryan Seacrest and now that Momma's money's gonna dry up, he'll be out the door faster than you can say Speedo.

Now I love how ol' Barbara is saying Star's approval rating is down because America doesn't believe the things she says. How could we? This is the woman who put her wedding up on the auction block, peddling whatever product she could get for free for her gift bags. I watched her invite at least 20 folks on the Emmy's Red Carpet to her wedding, all black, all too famous to attend, but that didn't stop her from making every single interview about herself. Look bitch, if you had anything worthwhile to say, the people would be interviewing you, but clearly you don't so shut the hell up and comment on the real star's jewelry!

Of course now she's turned this whole thing into a media circus and people really are going to interview her. Tonight at 9pm she will be a guest on Larry King Live (poor Larry) where she will be taking viewers calls. All I can say is, be prepared you bug-eyed beotch cause Queenan just may be tuning in!

Bathroom Behavior

And from the file: Things That Annoy the Living Crap Out Of Me....folks who don't know bathroom etiquette!!!

Now look here, I don't care what you do in your own private restroom, but the public facilities in your office building are not the place to do any of the following:

1) Put on your make-up - This must be done at home, in the proper lighting, before you get on the train lettin' God and everyone see your uneven skin tone.

2) Style your hair - Again, can you please get yourself together before you leave your house because I don't really need to see your stray hairs all over the sink, and really the humidity in those tiled walls is no good to nobody.

3) Talk on your cell phone - Truly, what don't you get about "Public" restroom? I do not need to hear the details of your weekend or the drama going down between your boyfriend and his cousin while I am trying to relieve myself. You are distracting me, not to mention, who the hell can you be talking to that you need them to hear you pee over the phone? I realize not everyone can have personal conversations in their office, but that's your problem, please don't make it mine.

Unless you are at a nightclub or a sporting event, using the bathroom is not a social event. Get in and get out. Don't hang about brushing your teeth and checking your lipstick, you're making the rest of us uncomfortable. And for goodness sake if there are 5 empty stalls don't use the one next to me! What is wrong with you? Men understand this, they have unspoken rules about where they stand, why can't women? This is an instance where we don't gain strength by proximity, there is no safety in numbers, and it's not "one for all." In short, Get Away From Me.

Whew! Just needed to let that out, now I can go about my day secure in the knowledge that I've enlightened women the world over on the proper behavior in a public restroom.

No Help Whatsoever!

This may have to be short, as my hand seems to have permanently cramped up from all the Thank You Note writing, but I did want to issue a warning to all my female readers who may be living under the delusion that your Sweetheart will be of any use to you whatsoever when it comes to thanking folks. I realize you ladies who have been married a while are laughing at me at this very moment, but I am afraid that I too was once so foolish as to believe that Sweetpotato might pick up a pen and help me.

Now you must remember that the majority of these notes are to some very lovely people whom I just met for the first time 2 days ago, but that he has known his ENTIRE LIFE. Would you not think that after 30-some years he could scratch out a few words of gratitude...Hell No he can't. Don't be ridiculous ladies, as wonderful as they may seem and helpful as they may be when it comes to planning the party, they sure as hell won't be cleaning up. Apparently, as I have just learned, men consider all gifts your gifts, except of course the checks written in their name, which they will not share with you even though without your finger to wear the ring they wouldn't be getting a damn thing. Neveryoumind that he was the one who picked out all the wine glasses or that he will be using the martini set, these are all my presents to be thankful for. Don't get me wrong, I am thankful. Thankful that I am not an ungrateful, selfish twerp who chooses not to recognize the generosity of my nearest and dearest but rather, have hired a secretary of sorts to take my dictations. Apparently I'm going to have to report him to the better business bureau for conduct unbecoming a husband!

Not to worry, though, I will not allow his Neanderthalic behavior stop be from being the most diligent thank-you-note-writing bride on record!

For me? You shouldn't have!

Have I ever told y'all how much a just luuurrve presents! Most particularly when they're mine of course, which is why I had the most de-lightful time yesterday at a little party thrown in honor of mine and Sweetpotato's long-awaited engagement. Now I suppose these presents might have been intended for him as well, seeing as how his mother threw the party and I only knew about 10 people there, but really, what does he need with a decorative dish? Ever since the day he offered his idiot friend my Waterford bowl for an ashtray, he hasn't been allowed near any dish not made of Styrofoam.

And the thing about engagement gifts is they're just wrapped up so pretty and decorated with plastic engagement rings of gumball-size (truly the most appropriate size for a diamond in my opinion). Of course then you open them to find all manner of items, some recognizable, others not so much. The thing is, I know that one day I will absolutely need 24 wine glasses and 17 cheese trays, but at this moment I simply have no where to put them! Oh yes and the vases, well I love vases, and I do intend to keep every single one, but clearly people over-estimate the flower buying frequency of my Potato. Either he needs to get to the nursery or I'm going to have to start dusting on a regular basis, God forbid.

But the day was just lovely and though my apartment is now stacked with boxes, I am just too trilled to have all this new stuff!! And it's not even my birthday, I mean imagine, all you've gotta do is promise to spend the rest of your life picking up the stray socks of one person who can't seem to find the laundry hamper and you get enough gifts to sink a ship! (Of course if we didn't get the gifts, could we live with the socks?) So if you need me, I'll be writing Thank You Notes for the rest of the month because you know the rule is: you don't get another gift until I get a note for the first, and I'm hoping there are a few more gifting events in my future;-)

Update: Tina's Dating (mis)Adventures

Y'all may remember my cousin, Tina, she was the hapless dater who spent cozy hours romancing some idiot at the firing range. (See Acceptable Dating Venues for a recap). Well anyway, she has now stepped away from her paper target and set her sights on a real live guy. While, I was quite ecstatic not to hear the word "handgun" mentioned at all during the conversation, I was quite horrified to hear "best friend's brother." For the love of God Tina, can't you just pick up someone with a mysterious past at a bar like the rest of us? Why on earth would you want to complicate your life by trying to complain about your boyfriend to his own sister?

So now, instead of hanging out at her boyfriend's place until all hours of the night performing acts that aren't mentioned in mixed company, she's sitting around the kitchen table playing Yatzee with his entire family! I just have one word for her...BOUNDARIES!! I mean you got to set them up now or you'll find yourself staring down the barrel of a Duplex in no time. You just can't be getting in the middle of any family drama cause you've got enough of your own, I know, I'm your family. Not to mention, how the hell do you ever expect him to get your pants off with Mom around? It'll be like high school all over again: "watching a movie" in the family room, waiting for the parents to go to bed and holding your breath at every sound. You simply can't enjoy yourself when you're on high alert.

I suppose in the hierarchy of the dating world, an evening with family is higher than an evening at the firing range, but only slightly. However, we are happy for Tina because as of now, he appears to be wonderful and sweet and all that nonsense associated with the early stages of a relationship before they stop concealing bodily functions and forget to aim at the toilet bowl. So, for now, congratulations dearest cousin, but know that we will be keeping an eye on this one and the first week you find you've logged more hours at momma's kitchen table than he has in your bed...he's on the curb!

White Woes

Now I know we have discussed the rules governing the wearing of white bottoms, mainly that they be worn only between Memorial and Labor Days so as not to upset the natural order established by our Confederate ancestors. However, I have apparently failed to mention that this rule applies only to appropriately opaque white clothing not a thin white skirt stretched so tight across your ass that I can see your FULL-BUTTED PINK STRIPED PANTIES!!

This is why there is flesh-colored underwear. This is why there are THONGS! (And don't give me any of this "they feel like you've got a wedgie," you do have a wedgie, that's the point!) And most importantly, this is why there are clothes made in sizes larger than an 8, so that when your fat ass is a 12-14, you don't have to squeeze it into the skirt you wore to the junior high dance and threaten to take someone's eye out when the button finally pops off like a champagne cork.

One would think that in this day and age in Manhattan, where you can walk down any street and find a number of reflective surfaces in which to observe your appearance, that you wouldn't need to be reminded of the basic rules of decency. Alas, folks can be so trashy. Sadly this season's color of choice has once again left a wake of destruction in its path.

We are in the white-appropriate window, but please, wear responsibly.

Bangs!

Take a look at this woman. She is a runway model on the catwalk, she has been perfectly styled to fit the designer's theme, hence, her decision to wear bangs is an important and carefully constructed one.

This weekend I was out at a bar (shocking, I know) when just across from me I espied some unfortunate girl sporting a similar look, except that she was NOT a highly paid fashion model and her look was clearly not carefully constructed. I am nearly certain she actually took a curling iron to them before stepping out for all the world looking like little Laura Ingalls at her first square dance. You see ladies, bangs are a dangerous 'do, which sadly became all the rage in the 1980's. Even though many stylists recovered from their Aquanet-induced high's in the mid-90's, many women, I'm afraid, did not.

Basically the rule is this: If you are not going to spend at least an hour a day armed with a dozen over-priced hair products and professional equipment, you do not need to have bangs. Regular folks just can't be trusted to style their hair correctly on a daily basis, so the trendy locks that fell so sexily over their lashes when they left the salon are pinned back with a head band two days later. Understand that you are not Heidi Klum and any attempt to attain the blunt-cut Euro Bang will end in disaster. Whatever you do, DO NOT allow yourself to be talked into cutting said bangs into the hair you have so painstakingly grown out by a well-intentioned stylist and a mean-spirited friend (whose main goal in life is to make you look ridiculous for spite). Not that I'm speaking from personal experience of course.

Notice that many of the women in Hollywood today have forgone the bangs for the long layered look, which requires significantly less effort on the part of the wearer and prevents ugly scenes, like the one I observed at the bar, from ever happening to you!

Corporate Clothing

Alright now look, if I see one more young woman heading off work in an ill-fitting, inappropriate suit I'm just going to scream. I know they're uncomfortable and I am very sorry you have to work in a place that requires such drastically dull attire, but you chose to go into investment banking, so I can't help ya.

And I just wanna say to them, honey, if you're old enough to work in a big ol' Manhattan office, you're old enough to buy clothes that fit. Curve-hugging synthetic suits from Dillards were okay to wear to your high school awards ceremony, but sprayed on pants and flammable jackets are not to be worn in high-rise buildings in the fashion capitol of America. Trends are set here, don't disgrace us by wearing last year's outfit from The Rave. I don't care if you can't afford Chanel, just charge it! Why do you think credit was invented?

Also, has anyone even heard of a tailor? For the love of God, find someone to hem your pants. I don't care if it's your grandma back in Branson, you cannot shuffle down the dirty streets of New York City with your pants in rolls at your ankles. Buying taller heels is no substitute for hemming because you know as well as I do that you will be wearing flipflops on the train all summer and your cuffs will be positively disgusting by the time you arrive at Grand Central.

It's all about home training folks. You know your momma wouldn't let you out of the house in clothes that don't fit and just because you're on your own doesn't mean you get to go out lookin' like a hot mess. Get it together girls, it's hard to climb the corporate ladder when you're tripping over your pants!

One good turn....

Contrary to popular opinion, Queenan is not the most selfish person in the world. (Sweetpotato, don't start with me about the covers, the dog, or the division of shared meals.) True, I do value my own needs above those of the peasantry, but I have been known, on occasion, to step down from my pedestal and walk amongst the common folk. Take this morning for example: I arrived at the subway station to find I was without a Metrocard and had to wait in an impossibly long line to use ONE Metrocard vending machine (of course there were other machines but they were all out of service because the MTA workers are so valuable they can't even do their jobs. whatever.). Anyway, everyone had to wait forever and this woman in front of me got all the way up to the machine and it wouldn't take her credit card, poor thing. So she goes to wait in yet another line, I paid cash, and then I just went right on over and picked her up outta that line and gave her a swipe!!

I know you're thinking, "but Queenie, you are too kind, spending $2 on a complete stranger!" Yes well, kindness makes the world go 'round darlins (and it was a "free ride with purchase"). Anyway, I share this with you because it has just made my day and reminded me that we should all try to make a nice gesture once in a while. But look here, I have done mine for this week, so don't come asking me for a dime to buy a soda or drop your bag and expect me to pick it up or any other nonsense cause you will just have to wait until next week.

I mean, all kidding aside, I can't have my reputation ruined over a few good deeds;-)

The Lemonade Diet

Now look here, I am not a diet junkie. As I have yet to find a diet plan that includes cake, I typically abstain from the ridiculous swings in popular weight loss regimens. However, faced with my upcoming nuptials I decided that a little effort must be made, lest my gigantic triceps take up too much room in the pictures. I simply will not pay a photographer $3,000 for photos of my fat arms. End of story.

Naturally I decided something must be done and that the first step would be to cleanse my system of all toxins, sort of start with a clean slate. Now, y'all know I have not missed a meal in my life, and were some extenuating circumstance to render me unable to eat during my regularly scheduled feeding hours, to be sure I would make up for any missed nutrients at the following meal. So it may surprise you to hear that I chose to de-tox with The Master Cleanser Diet, which is basically just drinking this homemade lemonade all day for 10 days.

Yes, I realize alarm bells should have gone off here, but visions of strapless dresses danced through my head and I thought, "how hard can it be?" HA! Let me tell you something, never, NEVER believe any diet that tells you that you won't be hungry when you aren't eating. What a load of crap. By mid-morning I was about ready to gnaw my own arm off. Of course I was in a lovely mood, as long you didn't speak to me, look at me, or exist in my general direction.

But I am here to tell you, I did it! I didn't have a thing but lemonade...until lunch. Look, I will do many things in the name of vanity, I mean for the love of God I spent $200 dollars last week on foundation and eye shadow because I felt pale, but there is absolutely no reason whatsoever for me to deprive myself of essential nutrients, it's just not right. (And, well, Sweetpotato had gone into hiding thinking of the last time he didn't order my breakfast immediately upon waking and nearly drew back a nub when he tried to steal a bite of my muffin.)

De-tox be damned. One should never follow dieting advice from a man who thinks a normal meal consists of raw vegetables and nuts. Steak was meant to be eaten and vegetables were meant to be casseroled! Fortunately Sweetpotato is a Photoshop whiz and since folks will believe just about anything they see in a picture, I can trim all the fat I want one pixel at a time!!

And this is why...

...I live in New York.

This sign was seen in Union Square, haven of all disenfranchised, this past weekend. Yes folks were lining up to Ask a Tranny, though what I can't imagine except for maybe the best foundation to cover your 5 o'clock shadow.

Now the Tranny booth was directly across from some little group of protesters, what they were protesting I have no idea, but there were hand painted banners, a bull horn, and everyone involved looked like a Jim Henson creation, so I can only assume it was something political. One creature was trying to attack another, who kept shouting "you're an agent provocateur," which I was certain was a lingerie line, but hey, what do I know about politics!

I realize you folks down South are probably reading this thinking "and this is why I DON'T live in New York," but assure you, you're really missing out on all the fun.

I'm BA-ACK!!!

Praise the Lord and pass the Advil...I am back in New York City! Never have a been so happy to return to a rainy, smelly, concrete jungle as after spending 9 excrutiatingly long days in sunny, sweltering, Neon-lit Las Vegas.

Yes darlins yours truly was trapped in a parallel universe where all the inhabitants were either plastic surgeried within an inch of their lives wearing triangles of clothing and frozen expressions or they had freshly de-planed from Anytown, USA wearing tent-sized matching tee shirts and hungry expressions. It was like Bergdorf Goodman meets trailer park. If I saw one pare of breast implants, I saw a thousand. Hell, if it were to ever rain over there, the whole damn town would float, two by two.

And I suppose I shouldn't make fun of the poor little Middle Americans, out for their big vacation armed with suitcases full of floral print cotton twin sets and their best walking shoes, but it's just too easy! Bless they little hearts, they actually flew across the country to see Wayne Newton (yes, he's still alive, though hardly recognizable at this point in face-lifting career)and eat bad food. There's just something scary about all-you-can-eat steak and shrimp for $8.95. My God, you shouldn't eat steak or shrimp for under 10 bucks, let alone both!

I just don't understand the lure of Las Vegas. I mean, for all Manhattan's faults, at least you can pay high prices for a decent meal and some actual culture. All Vegas has is Celine Dion and Phantom of the Opera...I'd rather be stabbed in the eye...Repeatedly! Now I will say that I did enjoy the lack of humidity and my hair looked fabulous the entire time, but I'd rather be frizzy than fainting of heat stroke any day.

Other than the half hour I spent in Ceasar's Palace laughing at the ridiculously clad folks out for their big night, I enjoyed my stay very little. Alas, such are the trials of the working girl. Say a little prayer that ole LV sinks into the desert before I have to return next year.

But, for now, I'm back in action...feel free to email, comment, or just stop by the blog because if it ever stops raining you know folks will be out in their summer clothes and to be sure I will have something to say!