I don't think so...

Now this is just too much. They have basically erased 20lbs. off Katie Couric with a click of the mouse. I have two things to say about this.

#1...this is totally cheating

#2...where can I find a graphics dept like this

I mean, can you imagine not having to diet again cause when you look back at the photos of your life, you can be whatever size you want in them! This is all that is wrong with America, cause you know these poor girls are starving themselves all over the place not knowing that their favorite television celebrities are shaving off pounds with an airbrush. Fools.

And so now The View is trimming too. Y'all know ol Rosie ain't laying of the Ding-Dongs and here she is looking like a sweet little size 10.

My fascination with the whole thing is in the face trimming. Hell Oprah's been having the digital folks shave off half her body for years in print, but that's pretty easy compared to reshaping someone's face, don't ya think? I know I have a few photos where I'd like to be sporting only one chin, and all this time I've been wishing I had willpower and it turns out all I needed was software!

Of course, you can crop yourself down to Calista Flockhart size all day long for still-life, but as soon as you step foot in front of that camera we're all gonna know the truth and it's back to turtlenecks and forgiving fabrics, isn't that right Oprah?

Isn't this just typical of this country, we will lie, cheat, and steal in an effort to bring you the real news from real people. God bless America...and pass the potato chips!

Morning Manners

For as long as I live in New York City, I will still be surprised by certain things. Y'all know I'm not really from 'round here, so I moved with all the same preconceived notions and stereotypes that still plague my relations down South, that New Yorkers were pushy, rude, fast-paced, and otherwise generally undesirable. And while I can say that things do move quicker up here cause ain't nobody got time to hem and haw about what kinda bagel they want, people in Manhattan are not generally rude at all.

Now, we will squeeze into a packed subway car and if you get bumped in the process then that's just too damn bad honey, cause we got places to go. Anyway, I digress. I was saying how New Yorkers will surprise you when you aren't even paying attention. So, the Manhattan morning commute is just about one of the worst experiences of my life, though I've never really commuted in automobile traffic so I'm probably not the authority on this one (can you imagine!). I have told you how we all hustle underground and wait in sticky, smelly, cement tunnels for an overcrowded train to arrive, which lets no one off but fits 10 more people on. However, the train this morning was practically empty, I mean there were still 40 folks in each car, but since no one was touching me I consider it a ghost town. I attribute this great vacancy to the fact that it's summer and apparently there are people who can afford to take a vacation somewhere off this stifling island. That, or the fact that I was way late and everyone had already made their commute, but whatever.

So, after the first stop, two actual seats open up and there are a couple of us standing that could take them and I'll be damned if the man next to me didn't ask if I would like to sit first! I mean to tell you chivalry is not dead in underground New York. We can be as liberated and equalized as you want in the high-rise office buildings, but on public transportation, every man is a gentleman and every woman a lady. You would be hard-pressed to see a pregnant woman, elderly person, or even a young child standing on a subway, because as soon as they enter everyone nearby offer their seat.

New Yorkers may be brusk and in a rush, and I'm still just a little afraid of the guy behind the deli counter, but you won't find better commuting companions anywhere.

Emmy 2006

Okay now, I planned to do a nice Emmy re-cap for y'all tomorrow morning, but I am sitting here watching the Red Carpet and I have to say these words:

Ryan Seacrest is THE WORST interviewer ever in the history of the world!

My God, if he is not the cockiest S.O.B. on the face of the earth. He has not asked a single pertinent question, nor had he amused us with any witty banter. He has however, harassed several celebrities and left every interviewee wondering why the hell they're talking to a glorified radio personality who doesn't have the finesse God gave Kathy Griffin (if you can imagine). He actually said he had no idea who any of the designers were, but he did share with America his vision prescription before his lasik surgery...because we couldn't possibly have lived another day without that information.

He is really ruining one of my favorite nights of the year. Y'all know nothing makes me happier than watching a constellation full of minor stars trying to look A-list and failing miserably. It's like a whole auditorium of Little Dippers wearing Big No-no's.

Hell, already Jean Smart, whom I love, has walked out lookin' like she just rolled outta bed and pinched her cheeks. I bet she's re-thinking not getting her hair did. Same thing with Ellen Pompeo, she is actually wearing my half-up elastic hairband style from 4th grade. Surely she coulda broke out the curling iron for a night like this!

Tyra Banks looks absolutely flawless of course, but I am just not so sure that dress was worth $50,000. I mean for that kinda money you could probably get straps on both shoulders.

Hello Jeremy Piven, I know you're too cool for school now that your little HBO show is a big hit, but you couldn't even shave for us? You brought your momma with you and she let you outta the house like that? Shameful.

And take a look at Sandra Oh No You Didn't Wear Your Grandma's Entire Box of Costume Jewelry With A Vera Wang Gown!!

And really, everyone else kinda underwhelmed me. You know the television stars are better behaved than the Oscar-goers cause they're still trying to get into the big leagues, which makes for a very dull red carpet. Normally I'd be sad the fashion show has ended, but after 2 hours listening to Ryan Seacrest's insipid drivel, I am about ready to stab my own eyes out so for tonight...Seacrest Out (and mean GET OUT!)

Lights Aren't So Bright on Broadway

Y'all know I moved to Manhattan to be on the Broad-way, though of course my plans of stage stardom were thwarted by my inability to get out of bed for auditions and general abhorance of the acting profession. Regardless, I quite enjoy a good musical and frequent The Great White Way whenever my bank account allows, which is seldom of course, but I keep up nonetheless.

So I just have to say that I am about to throw up at the latest bit of gossip that Ashlee Simpson has been offered a role in the musical Chicago, either in NYC or London. Now look here, that poor show has been bastardized within an inch of it's life for the past 5 years and it just will not die! Every other person in Hollywood it seems is fulfilling her fantasy of actually having talent, by signing up for a few months to share a stage with actual actors. Right now Usher is in the mix, and just last month Rita Wilson, straight of her role as Tom Hank's wife, played Roxie Hart. Now let me ask you something. In what world would Renee Zellweger, Rita Wilson and Ashlee Simpson all be up for the same role, in the same decade?! This is absurd. It's beyond absurd, it's total bullshit and I am just beside myself.

There are folks all over this town with more talent in their left foot than Miss Simpson has in her entire body who are barely paying rent and waiting tables and praying for a callback, and here's this moronic second-fiddle sister stepping to the front of the line because there's a producer somewhere who won't admit defeat and close the damn show! Perhaps Ashlee doesn't know that Broadway is LIVE theater, not Saturday Night Live-live, but really, truly, there-is-no-sing-along-track-live.

Apparently, for the rich and famous the world is their playground and even something as pure as the live talent on Broadway will sell out for a name on the Marquee. You see this is the very reason I had to forego my acting career... well, that and an aversion to starvation and humiliation, but purity of the craft makes a much better statement;-)

There Are No Words...

... but I have to say some anyway. Oh - My - God! And here I was thinkin' only women sausaged themselves into jeans, when lo and behold men sausage too (and give an entirely different image of "sausage" at that.)

I mean seriously, what is his purpose here? Just because we can see your equipment doesn't mean we wanna use it honey. The power of suggestion doesn't work when you're quite that frank (and beans! ha! I couldn't help myself!)

Now what do you think we call this? Surely not a camel-toe, but more a tumor of some sort. And now that I look at the picture again, I think I may be even more disturbed by the fact that he probably wearing women's jeans - jeans, that are no doubt 5 sizes smaller than any I have ever owned. Why is the world so cruel?

Prison Break Returns!

Praise the Lord, my Monday nights have returned to me! Now I've got The Closer, featuring the lovely if slightly over-accented Chief Brenda Lee Johnson who solves crimes while nibbling sweets, obviously a gal after my own heart. But the real prize is the return of Prison Break! Now I'm not sure about the title, seeing as how they've already made the "break" and all, but regardless I am happy to return to my most tense hour of television.

Now if you don't watch Prison Break I just don't know what to tell you, in fact I'm not even sure we can be friends anymore, but if you pick up right now it's practically a new season and someone you know can catch you up to speed. Of course there are things we must discuss, like how pleased I am that they finally killed that whiney dark-haired wannabe super detective! Can I just ask you how in the hell someone with no acting ability and a strikingly crooked face ends up the star of a Prime Time television show? It remains unclear, but fortunately we no longer have to worry about her because she done got shot in the head.

However, her death does upset poor Lincoln, who really has been through enough having to sit in the electric chair for a crime he only almost committed, and I do hate that he's upset. But he really should grow some hair with ears like he's got, bless his heart. Not like Michael, who has a nice enough head to shave. Did you know in the life he sang in an a cappella group in college? I have a soft spot for cheesy chorus folks, as I once was one. In fact, my group once sang with his group, but I don't recall him being there...of course would I recognize him without the tattoos is the question.

Anyway, I am very glad the little doctor didn't die, but for the love of God can they please put some make-up on the girl?! I know you got a drug addiction and all, and right now you're in a pretty bad way, but brush your hair and put on some lip gloss or something. Studies have shown that when you look good, you feel better, which is why I always apply foundation before leaving the house, though in reality nothing can lift my mood when on route to my office.

I suppose everybody else is pretty much okay on the show, except this new detective guy. There is no way he woulda put all that tattoo stuff together in 5 minutes. You expect me to believe there is a code-breaking genius hanging out in rural Illinois who can get "cemetery" from a name badge. I don't think so. But anyhoo, Monday has taken it's spot back as the best night on television, so y'all be sure to tune in so we can discuss the more unfortunate moments;-)

All that is wrong with America

Look at this!!! Nicole Richie has gone from a full, healthy idiot to a skinny bitch of moronic proportions! This photo, brought to you by our friends at Star Magazine, is just about the most disgusting thing I have ever seen. I mean the girl's skin is actually wrinkling off her body at the ripe ol' age of 24. She is supposed to be some sort of style icon but I don't consider the skeleton look "in fashion."

Now look here. I don't know what is wrong with her parents, but Lionel needs to get his ass off the concert tour and get his daughter to a hospital. And it's not just her. Everyone in Hollywood is dropping pounds like Britney Spears walking with her baby. It's just not normal, I mean grown folks are not supposed to weigh less than 100 lbs! Hell, I can't even recall in the far recesses of my brain when I might have weighed 100 lbs. I may have skipped it altogether.

And of course the real issue here is all the women in middle America modeling themselves after these artificially constructed celebrities. It's like maybe 80 people are setting the bar for body image for 2 billion others. What y'all need to realize is that these skinny folks in the magazines DO NOT EXIST in real life! I mean first of all they are airbrushed nearly beyond recognition and regardless it is their J-O-B to look good. Your j-o-b is to sit in an office all day with poor lighting and recycled air. Your j-o-b does not pay you enough to eat only organic food from the Zone Diet, nor does your office building have a pilates instructor on staff. Your j-o-b does not have spa treatments available 24-hours a day nor could you afford more than an $8 manicure even if it did! Your j-o-b drives you to drink a bottle of cheap wine every night and under no circumstances will the accounting department consider breast implants a viable company expense. Hence my friends, you and I are never gonna look like the people in the magazines, it's just not meant to be.

Not to mention, do you have any idea how miserable these folks must be? I know they have enough money to buy themselves anything they want, but until they buy themselves a cheeseburger they are not gonna be much fun to hang around. I mean y'all know I lasted 8 hours on that cleansing diet until I was mean as a snake and ready to gnaw my own arm off, can you imagine being hungry for years..I mean YEARS! You know someone like Jennifer Aniston hasn't had a piece of cake since puberty and really that is just no way to live! Cause you gotta look at it this way, even if you starve and sweat and struggle into those size 2 jeans - so what? Being stick-thin and starving will win you the ire of every female coworker and little else when you're the assistant to the director of something or another at a small factory in Little Rock. Sweetpotato has confirmed that men like a little meat, hell some men like a lot. The fact that my ass reminds him of two large hams and the big ol' ring on my finger is not merely a coincidence. Honey, you can live a life of deprivation for a photo album that after 15 years, 3 kids, and 50 pounds will make you wanna throw yourself off a bridge, or you can get over it, get yourself a cocktail, and get to celebrating the beauty of having a body that won't blow away with the first strong breeze!

I just can't be bothered

I realize the logo tee has been overplayed and should be on it's way out, but there are days when having your attitude plastered across your chest just feels better. Today, for example, I awoke after a very poor night's sleep (thank you Winnie The Dog Who Thinks She's A Human And Needs To Sleep With Her Head On A Pillow)to a gray rainy Tuesday with nothing remotely exciting in the foreseeable future. After a good half hour of attempting to conjure up a contagious virus I gave up and got out of bed, only to be confronted with an empty closet, as all my clothes are in the laundry.

And so today friends, "I just can't be bothered."

Unlike every other day when this is an unspoken, understood sentiment, today it is written across my shirt, lest their be any confusion and some poor fool might ask me to perform a task or show some excitement or respond with more than a grunt as if I gave a shit.

"Why Queenie, where did you get such a perfectly worded shirt?" you might ask. I designed it myself of course. As if some college flunky at a print shop could think up such a concise yet all encompassing phrase. You can order a tee shirt for your very own self right on my website, which I highly suggest you do. Not cause I make any money off em really, but because on days like today, the world is a safer place when folks know where you stand.

The Skinny Jean

Inspired by the crisp, comfortable weather this weekend, I decided to get a jump on my fall wardrobe for the first time since, well, ever really. And so I'm attempting to find my perfect pair of jeans and instead am confronted with the same horror I witnessed last year. Apparently all my petitions were ignored because lining every available shelf and rack was...the skinny jean!

Now look here. I know you stick people look so great in these damn things, and I watched with envy as y'all glided down the street with your skin-tight denim stuffed into your cowboy boots. But speaking as a representative of the pear-shaped portion of the population, can we get the boot-leg back PLEASE!! You see for some, nay, most of America, the hip-to-ankle proportion is rather large, and the skinny leg only serves to highlight the fact that cellulite has made itself a home inside our thighs. And while the Heidi Klums of the world can flaunt their impossibly long limbs, the rest of us are attempting to divert your attention with belled hems and loose seams.

As long as I live I will never understand why fashion designers feel it necessary to be so cruel. They know damn well that about 20 folks in America look good in form-fitting clothing, and all 20 of them are on their catwalks. What the hell are the rest of us supposed to wear? Can't y'all make the runway version for the models and the sidewalk version for the rest of us? Cause you know the only thing worse than skinny jeans on a hanger are skinny jeans on a person that don't need to be wearin' them! You can't let folks decide for themselves, my God, like anyone in the Paramus mall has taste enough to dress appropriately.

I don't care how out of fashion it makes me, I cannot in good conscience don any leg but the wide leg, so this season I may be out of the loop, but when the bell-bottom recycles for the 5th time in 30 years I will be ahead of the curve!

Dating Don't or just Don't Date

So now y'all know I haven't been out on a date with anyone other than my Sweetpotato in quite a while, so I sometimes just don't believe my girlfriends when they're constantly complaining about the state of the dating world and the men in it. But then I witness scenes like last night and I just feel so bad for my girls.

I was having a luuurrvly sushi dinner with my very good friend Fashion Slave, and directly across from us was a table of two of them most unfortunate-looking folks I have seen in Manhattan, who aren't asking for your spare change. Now the guy is wearing, I kid you not, a red Hawaiian print shirt, khaki cargo pants, and those atrocious rubber sandal-things with the strap around the back. For the record, I do not believe in the Mandal. Boys should wear flip-flops or full shoes, end of story. Besides, this is the Upper West Side not Key West. Okay, so he's sitting there with his hairy neck and shabby haircut pretending he was never the president of the computer club (which you know he was), and he's talking incessantly about fun subjects like... Evolution. I actually heard him use the term self-actualized. Wow, he's a good time.

And the girl, God bless her, looked bored to death, but then, she was wearing those back-strap sandally things too, so how many other options could she really have had? Now you know I hate to be ugly because I know the shape of your nose is something beyond your control early on in life, but come on now honey you are a grown woman living in one of the most visually obsessed cities in the world, you have to know a good plastic surgeon. I know it's expensive and all, but we're talking about your FACE here. Trust me it is money well spent.

All that to say, I wanted to hang myself by the end of their dinner, so I can just imagine how she felt. Also I don't think they were drinking, which could have only made the experience all the more painful. Hell, I had to order another drink just to survive the parts I was overhearing!

This just goes to show, you can never go out on a date with anyone who was a member of the math, science, or A/V clubs. I know this doesn't seem to bode well for you ladies but not to worry, to be sure there are plenty of former athletes and frat boys waiting to crush a beer can on their head for you. Ah, the good old days, nothing says love like a keg stand in your honor.

Bad Mommy

And from the category: Trailer Trash Will Do Anything For Publicity...we have Britney Spears on the cover of Harper's Bazaar.

This is too much. I mean there almost aren't any words...almost, of course.

Now look here you washed up pop star, nobody wants to see your naked pregnant ass every morning as they buy their paper. Most women wear loosely fitting clothes when they've got a bun in the oven and here you are splattered across every newsstand from here to Tim-BUK-tu wearing nothing but the gaudiest damn necklace I have ever laid eyes on.
Of course I am not suggesting there is anything shameful in a rounded belly; pregnancy is a beautiful thing. I am saying that the way to combat rumors of being a bad mother and a trashy has-been is probably not to take your clothes off for all the world during your second trimester.

Listen to me Brit. You are NOT Demi Moore. She was the original naked mommy and it was fabulous and sexy. Of course, she is fabulous and sexy and you are well...not. Why couldn't you just sit this one out? Just go on being barefoot and pregnant in ripped jeans with your roots showing like only you can be. Honey, with all those stretch marks your snake charming days are O-V-E-R, and until modern science has found the missing link, your offspring will remain half man - half moron, just like their father.

So, Mommy Dearest, you better get back in the studio and start trying to salvage anything that may be left of your career, cause with the amount of therapy your kids are gonna need somebody in that house had better get a job!

More Expert Advice

Now that it's not quite so hot and I can behave like a human being instead of a bitchy lunatic, I am back to helping those in need of relationship advice the world over. Just yesterday I received a letter from a lovely reader overseas who has found herself in a situation I know we have all faced. To sum up: meets boy in Dad's pub (how divinely British!), dates boy briefly, boy doesn't want anything serious, stops dating boy, sees boy again at pub, gets drunk and kisses him goodnight, gets text from boy the next day saying she looked hot.
Her Question: Does he regret the way things went between them?

I feel certain we have all faced some version of this situation, where the boy who so stupidly exited our life stupidly re-enters and has the nerve to compliment us, sending us in to a spiral of what if's.

Queenan's Response:

Oh darling, that is one of the oldest and most worthless tricks in the book! Of course he regrets the way things went, he didn't'’t get to sleep with you and now he barely gets a good night kiss! He got scared of having to be in a real relationship and wanted to keep it loose, but didn't'’t expect you to just totally ditch him. It's not that he wasn't attracted to you, he was just crippled by typical insecurity, a common plight of the Y-chromosome. Now he wants you cause he can't have you (another characteristic of the Y), so you have to decide if he deserves to have you, at least part of you.

Basically, he doesn't want to be exclusive with you, that part hasn'’t changed, but he still wants you in the mix. I of course find that unacceptable, as any woman with a shred of self-esteem would. However, if you wanna play, then he's ripe for the pickin', but don't expect him to be true. If you don'’t wanna be true either, then he's a guy to have fun with, but if you'’ll expect some sort of commitment from him, then don't return his call.


It is fun to tease them though, so next time be a little less drunk, lest you give him more than a kiss, and flirt with him mercilessly before gliding out the door by yourself.


Don'’t be fooled honey, he regrets things alright, but not the right things. If you see him again just make sure to tell him (all together now), "You didn't do well, you have to go."

Royally,

Q

Day Off!

Well folks, today I am taking the Day Off from the manila-colored hell that is my office existence. I don't have a reason to be off, except that I just don't want to be there, which in my opinion is a fine reason.

Now Sweetpotato keeps asking me what I'm gonna do today. Why, NOTHING, of course! What a fool kinda question is that? I am gonna sit my happy ass in the bed and watch trash television, breaking only for feedings and short stints on the Internet. Why do people always think you need to be "doing" something? What's so wrong with spending a day on the couch? I mean, they don't put all these talk shows on at 11am so no one can watch them, now do they?

As it stands, my day is already filling up! Right now is Regis and Kelly, I've got The View at 11 (I'm not watching it because I like any of those women, on the contrary, I'm gathering ammunition. You noticed I haven't wrung in on any of the new developments from Rosie to the dumb blond bitch's right-wing freakout...I'm saving up!) Anyway, in the afternoon, there's lunch and then all those soaps I've missed since I've been locked up in that office. Thankfully, you only really need to catch one good episode to get right back up to speed, unless of course, they've gone and done a re-cast cause that's a little confusing for the first 15 minutes or so. By the time all that's over it'll be 5 o'clock somewhere and time for weekend cocktails! So you see, I have so much to do I may not even make it out to get my manicure, which would really be a shame.

Y'all have fun in your corporate hive but don't call me cause I'm a little too busy today for the phone;-)

Too Darn Hot

It is hotter than two rats making love in a wool sock in a haystack in the middle of July! (Little Southernism for ya)I mean to tell you, I know why people go crazy in the summer...it is so F*%@ HOT!!!! No wonder folks are always shooting each other, by the time I emerge from the subway I want to stab so many people in the eye I can barely keep track. I mostly want to stab the weather people on TV. Every time you turn the damn thing on, one of em's on there talking about "It's gonna be a hot one!" No shit. It's August for Christ's sake, of course it's gonna be hot. And then they put up those ridiculous cartoon forecasts that say things like, Monday - Extremely Hot; Tuesday - Hotter; Wednesday - Hottest Day Yet!
Like it's something exciting to report miserable conditions. Of course it probably is exciting for them, I mean this is the one time of the year when they have a 99% chance of actually getting the forecast right, and then if they don't, if for some reason it's cooler than expected, people are thrilled!!

I tell you what, heat makes people get just mean. For me, being hot is like being hungry, you'd better just stay out of my way or risk getting your arm gnawed on. Poor Sweetpotato hides when I come through the door. After trekking around Manhattan underground for half the day, I am about ready to kill anyone who has constant access to air conditioning, and he fits the bill! Like I said, folks just go crazy in the summer and I can't blame them. I saw a man last week walking right down 42nd street in the heart of New York City, he had removed his shirt and pants and was just strutting down the street with his full genitalia out for all to see. And I thought, he was just done fed up, he had had enough by God and he just couldn't be bothered anymore. I know how you feel buddy, and though I am fully clothed at this moment, I know how you feel.

Funeral Lesson

So last night I had to attend a memorial service from someone work-related, so though death is always sad, I was a bit more detached than I normally would be, seeing as I'd never even met this person. Hence some of the events are rather humorous to me and I wanted to share them with you, so that you might not make the same mistakes, God help you.

I realize everyone has their own way of grieving and I believe you need to do whatever you need to do, but folks, there are time, place, and manner restrictions on funeral etiquette. I was alright with the endless line of speakers taking shots of tequila in the guys honor, if you feel the need to celebrate someone's drinking problem, more power to ya. I was alright with all the old stories to which I couldn't relate and had no frame of reference and which were not at all, in the very least amusing. I was even alright with the guy who wanted to light a candle to call in the spirits - helpful one's only of course. But when he started calling them with the maracas, I drew the line. I mean to tell you, this fool stood up on a stage in front of 200 of his peers and shook these bamboo stick-things up and down to the four winds. Now look, you wanna play "shaman" on your own time, you go right ahead, but considering you're in a room full of Jews and non-denom Christians, it's probably not the right time to get out your incense. And then he made us visualize holding hands in a field while he rubbed what looked like one of those sticky lint rollers around the top of some sort of brass bowl while chanting something unintelligable.

Have you ever tried not to convulse into fits of laughter at a funeral? It is not easy, let me tell you. Seriously your Shaman-ness, or whatever the hell you call yourself, TIME, PLACE and MANNER. Get it together, would ya? I sure hope the dearly departed got to the next world or wherever he was going, otherwise this maraca dude will be chanting for a long time. I mean, sing, joke, cry - all acceptable funeral behaviors. Chant, hum, and summon spirits...umm, maybe not.