Helloooo

Well, hey ya'll, Queen Mum here, I'm sorry I'm just now blogging but I got a little behind. I only hope I'm doing this right. I know Queenie makes me sound helpless about the computer but that's only because she's right. Now what to say. Do I tell you about Queenie's childhood days?- How she could sing the "shiney-hiney" song before the age of one? How she got in trouble in 3yr old preschool for telling the teacher how to teach? Or maybe you'd like to hear about her padgent days when she belted out "Rock-a -bye my Baby" with all her heart only to lose to a bulemic. She has been an interesting child-but that's only because I connected all of her neurotransmitters-you see I was determined to be the perfect mother and raise the perfect child. And we all got Queenan. You can thank me later.

On the road again

Sorry babies, it's that time again when Queenie must haul her cookies across the country to fabulous Las Vegas for some work thingy. Ya'll remember how fondly I think of Vegas? Here, refresh your memory.

Anyhoo, I like to let y'all know when I'm gonna be away, lest you think I'm just being lazy with my posting. So this year I'm hoping to have a few guest blogs from Fashionslave and the Queen Mum. I haven't really asked them yet, but there's nothing like callin folks out in front of everybody to spur a little inspiration!

So, fingers crossed, our favorite commenters will regale you with all the "things they think on their way to work" and we can't wait to hear them say outloud!!

Wish me luck friends, it's gonna be a long, hot, vodka-infused week...I'll be lucky to make it out alive!

The Start of Summer

Well Happy Memorial Day...that long weekend when we lay on the beach, grill in the backyard, drink too much and sleep in, all in the name of....oh whatever we're supposed to be honoring. No, I'm kidding, of course Memorial Day is to honor the men and women who have died (and sadly, continue to die) defending our country (or on baseless expeditions in countries we have no business visiting). So I hope everyone flies a flag from their front porch today for the memory of all that has been sacrificed for America.

Okay, now, on to the Memorial Day we're more familiar with...the day that begins the summer season, and after which respectable Southern women are allowed to wear white on their bottom halves. (For any questions regarding acceptable whites, please see White Woes.)

Anyhoo, now that it's officially summer, it's time to change out our cocktails! Much like the closet rotation of spring and fall, summer is time to rotate your bar. Put away those dirty martinis and heavy red wines and get out the tequila, cause nothing cools you off on a hot summer day better that a Margarita!! I personally prefer them on the rocks because I drink them so damn fast, that the blended version gives me horrible brain freeze, plus all that ice waters them down, and who wants a weak marg?

Other summer cocktails I recommend:

The Mojito- refreshing and delicious, this minty-lime rum drink is best with Orange or Lemon flavored rum over lots of ice. Do be mindful that there's plenty o' liquor in this beverage, so though it goes down like a juice box, too many pre-food and you're not having a good time the next morning.

The Citronade- Another tall-glass beverage with more booze that it lets on, this one is a favorite of FashionSlave and her little sister Kitty. I'm not sure if it's indigenous to Chapel Hill, NC, where you can find it at Top of the Hill bar, but that's certainly where we discovered it. I was too busy drinking margaritas to pay attention, so FashionSlave and Kitty will have to fill you in on the ingredients.

Daiquiris- Yum, frozen drinks are de-lish (brain freeze not withstanding). I prefer strawberry, but any fruit will do. In this same frozen family is the pina colada, one of my favs, but only if properly prepared. The worst tragedy to befall a blended beverage is over-blending. Runny drinks are simply unacceptable. Pina Coladas and Daiquiris should be able to support a little umbrella and one of those preservative-filled cherries. If you find your garnish floating near the bottom of your glass, return that drink to the bartender immediately and get you a new one!

Basically anything icy-cool can be a summertime cocktail, so if y'all know some good ones, please share with the class!! Get yourself a frosty glass of whatever your poison and find some strong young men to fan you under a big ol' Magnolia tree...it's officially summer, let the games begin;-)

Y'all miss me? Sorry I've been M.I.A, but I had to spend some quality time lounging on a boat on the beautiful waters of the North Carolina coast, and then I had to eat cake and open gifts and sit in the peaceful stillness of my parent's backyard drinking coffee and listening to the birds sing every morning.

And now back to reality, where I just spent half an hour fighting for 6 inches of personal space on an overcrowded subway. I will never understand these folks that insist upon forcing themselves onto a subway car they can plainly see is loaded to capacity. If y'all are so damn desperate to get to work, then you should leave earlier. Personally, I have never been so compelled to be anywhere on time that I would hurl myself into a mass of smelly strangers, and while the occasional sample sale might persuade me, the chance to sit at my paper-loaded desk certainly does not!

Apparently I am alone in this idea because every damn where you go, folks are pushing to get somewhere they were gonna get in the first place. Airports are the worst by far. I spend a lot of time in the them lately and inevitably I'm stuck standing beside the person who's so damn anxious to get on the plane, they knock over small children in the rush. Look, if you're Zone 2 and don't get to board until Zone 3, I promise they're still gonna let you on. Your seat's reserved folks, no one's gonna take it from you so just calm down!

It's almost enough to make you wanna drive everywhere, but then you'll just have the psycho road-ragers buttin' up on you on the highway. You know those people who can't be bothered to merge with everyone else and speed up to the front of the line, forcing someone who waited their turn to let them in at the last possible moment? Assholes. Assholes who should have their licenses revoked! Of course then they'd just have to take public transportation and would end up shoving past me in their mad dash to make the train.

Welcome Back to Manhattan...now get outta my way!
I guess we see the answer is to stay my happy ass at home and have everything delivered.

Happy Birthday to ME!

And so here we are, another year has past since I first burst into this world, yelling at my mother and ordering the nurses about. This Saturday marks the ?? anniversary of my birth, if you were alive then you probably felt a tremor as I landed in the doctor's arms...the world has never been the same.

Birthdays are often a time for reflection, most often over a bevy of beverages, a half-eaten cake by your side.
I like to think that I have contributed positively to society, after all, someone has to tell folks how to act right, lest they continue to run around acting like pure-T fools. And who else would listen tirelessly to all your relationship issues and tell you the absolute truth about how to handle them? I mean, if it weren't for your old pal Queenie, you might have gone out a bought a turban or have attempted to make small talk in an elevator.

Just think of all the missteps you might have made were it not for the words of wisdom you read every morning (or well a couple mornings a week...give me a break, I do have a life you know.) But you don't have to thank me, I consider the time spent shaping lives my contribution to the greater good. Some feed orphans in Africa, some do mission work in Asia, I write hateful emails in America....we all have to do our part.

I'm off for a few days to lie in the sun, drink Mo-Mos and eat cake in a glutenous fashion without the slightest hint of guilt! A celebration fit for a Queenan, as it were- a party of one, for one, and buy one (or two if it fits just right;-) So go ahead, shower me with gifts...I have my Thank You Notes ready!

B.S.D- Bathing Suit Depression

So last night was my annual evening of self-induced depression, also known as the night I try on all my bathing suits for the first time of the spring. This event is immediately followed by heavy drinking.

For some reason, I continue to exist under the illusion that if I keep trying on my bikini from college, that I will magically have my figure from sophomore year. Ah, sophomore year....size 5 and starvation, what a combo. Yes back then I could wear just about anything, from short shorts to tube tops, my midriff exposed whenever it was appropriate, and often when it wasn't. Of course, I was an exercising lunatic who logged every calorie she consumed in a notebook of her obsession...all I can say is, I'm lucky my friends still speak to me, crazy as I was.

Anyhoo, I no longer suffer from a need to deprive myself in the name of skinniness, in fact, skinniness and I, we had a falling out. And though I have been much happier ever since, I have not had as close of a relationship with bathing suits either. Of course, I don't live near a beach or pool, so they don't often come into play. Nevertheless, I still feel the need every spring to drag the bathing suit box out from under my bed, and torment myself with my flabby thighs in a full-length mirror. Apparently last year I broke down and bought full-coverage bottoms, a fact which makes me very sad, even while saving me from the dreaded muffin top.

The part I can't figure out is how I can look just fine in my clothes, giving off the illusion that I've maintained my weight over the winter, and then beneath the fabric I find things have shifted. Damn that stretch denim - it lies! Yes, so I'm prepared to prance about modeling my preserved physique for Sweetpotato and then...well, it looks like I'll be investing in sarongs this summer.

I think something happens after college, things just get lumpy and elasticity dissipates. Try as you might, your 19-year-old ass will never be seen again and all those pictures of you and your girlfriends on the beach, well those are the last of their kind. During a moment of insanity last year I allowed myself to be photographed in a bathing suit - that picture was burned immediately upon development.

Sweetpotato and I are venturing out on a boat this weekend, so I'm hoping that with a little sun and a lot of champagne, I'll forget all about the dimples showing on the backs of my thighs- to be sure, it's a gallon-jug weekend for the Mo-Mos!

Mother's Day reminder

Sunday is Mother's Day, so for all of you who've yet to get yourselves together, there's just enough time to call 1-800-flowers before you go down in history as the worst child on earth.

For those of you who visit my column regularly, you will have read my previous dissertation on my mother, but for those who haven't it's really quite worth the click. Go on....I'll wait.

I am happy to report that the past year has seen a marked improvement in the Queen Mum's behavior. During the whole wedding planning ordeal she was really quite on the ball, and even showed up to every single event on time - if you can believe it! Not only that, but she managed to wear high-heeled shoes and a strapless dress and look totally Fab, and didn't once mention the price tag. This is quite a leap for the woman who might own 2 pair of jeans...if they were on sale.

And as witnessed by her constant comments to my blog, she has become quite computer literate, at least with emails and checking the weather. I understand that very soon she will be able to attach picture files and then heaven help us!

2006 saw the first Christmas cards she's sent in my lifetime...now I didn't receive one but then, why waste a stamp on someone who already knows what it looks like. All other pieces of mail to me have missed the occasion by only a day or 2, which compared to a month is really something.

But even though I'm married now, she's still the one I call when I'm sick, and she still offers to hop on a plane to sit by my bedside as I cling to the life a head cold is trying to take from me. And of course she's still the first person I report any significant life developments to, though I now have to begin and end with "no, I'm not pregnant." Every time I travel she calls to send me "little angels" to protect me...though she can't always remember where I am. To combat this issue, she simply calls repeatedly and at odd hours to scare me into answering, so I'm afraid someone is in the hospital when really she just doesn't know what time zone I'm in.

It seems mother's can't stop being mothers, no matter how old their children get. But then, would we want them to? I mean, if you can't tell the woman who squeezed you onto the planet about your weight gain, money problems, and heartache, then who can you tell? You may not have told her about that keg party you threw when she went out of town your senior year, but she's got an idea- trust me. They know everything somehow, from what to take for a stomach ache to what gift to give at a bridal shower for a girl you don't like. No matter how far we roam or how professional we are, we'd be lost without our mothers.

She lived with you through puberty for god's sake, you owe her a card at the very least.

Happy Mother's Day to all mothers...thanks for knowing all about us and loving us anyway!!

The power of free food

Lordy friends, I have been lost in the Midwest for the past few days! I was at this shindig for work, a shareholders meeting for some big company. Basically, rich folks get together for a weekend and talk about how much money they made. But let me tell you, all the money in the world clearly can't buy taste...you wouldn't believe what these folks were wearin!

Nevermind about that though (at this point, fashion crises have become the norm), this weekend I learned a valuable lesson about the power of free food. I mean you would just not believe it. Here I watched these rich folks pack into a tent like sardines in can for a few cocktails. They've got millions of dollars, yet they will line up for a cheese ball and a glass of cheap champagne...it's really quite remarkable. I mean, I belly up to the buffet line whenever possible, but then y'all know the state of my bank account isn't exactly something to write home about.

This free food phenomenon extends to all levels of success, in fact. Back when I used to wait tables (a career which left me excessively bitter with significantly little income), I once had to work this birthday party for one of the stars of Law & Order. So the restaurant was packed with celebrities, people with longstanding television careers that could surely afford to buy their own dinner. But, the minute the waiters appeared with hors d'oeuvre trays, the stars descended upon us like a swarm of bees. A pack of them hovered near the kitchen entrance, laying in wait for the sight of our crisp white shirts so they could pounce upon the stuffed mushrooms like they'd never seen food before. It got so bad, the waiters had to slip out the back and around to the front door so the folks at the front had a chance at the food. And they were shameless in their attack, not concerned with sharing...or the fact that they looked like impoverished assholes fighting over the last chicken wing.

I watched skinny Angie Harmon hiding in the back so she could suck down BBQ ribs like she was going to the chair. 'Course she probably threw them up 5 minutes later...such a waste of good ribs.

Food isn't just the way to a man's heart, oh no honey, you give it away and you can have every red-blooded American knocking on your door. It's all about the crudite, so pile it high and get the word out that it's free and you could pack a stadium with everyone from the guy in the mail room all the way up to the CEO. Oh, and make sure you call your ol pal Queenie, you know she can't miss a meal...certainly not one she doesn't have to pay for!

Life as a Hallmark Card

So I stumbled across this card in the store the other day and I couldn't help but think how perfectly it represented the differences between the way the X and Y chromosomes approach relationships.

Yup, that just about sums it up. I get letters from women all over the world wantin to know why their Romeo isn't quoting Shakespeare, um, well Shakespeare doesn't have breasts...duh. It's really quite remarkable, the Y's fascination with boobies. I mean, you could go with the whole "because they don't have them," angle, but there are other body parts we don't share and you don't see any women transfixed on those boy thingys.

Not to say that boobies are the soul focus of the Y's attentions, no, the backside gets a bit of play as well. And of course they love the beautiful person you are inside as well, but that falls a very distant 3rd to the parts they can see. Sweetpotato can say all day long that he loves me for my mind, but I can guaran-damn-tee you that if my brain was a bit smaller and my breasts a bit larger, he'd hardly complain.

The lesson here ladies, is not that men are simple - that has been documented since the beginning of time. And the lesson is not even that Prince Charming doesn't exist, for in fact, there are men everywhere waiting to save you from paying your own bar tab. The key is to make sure your vision of Prince Charming exists in the realm of reality. He may slay dragons and scale towers to come to your rescue, but let's face it, even as he sweeps you away on his white horse, he's just tryin' to cop a feel. You don't honestly think that Prince climbed up Rapunzel's hair to look into her eyes, do you? Give me a break!

Look, it's not all that bad. Just know that your Price Charming will always be trying to peek down your shirt and use it to your advantage. So what's a lost button on your blouse if the trash gets taken out? Looks like that Wonderbra was worth every penny!