Friday, March 30, 2012

Chainsawed Flamingo Sculptures and the Lottery

Now we all realize that the lottery jackpot for this next drawing is a wee bit on the high side.... like a gazillion dollars on the high side.  Okay, maybe it's not a gazillion dollars, but more than a half a billion dollars. That's right.  It's literally more than a half a BILLION dollars.  That even SOUNDS outrageous.  Regardless, that's what we're dealing with.  And while I realize that logically the lottery is a tax on the mathematically challenged, and that the odds of winning are astronomically small, The Queen is no fool!  And over a half a billion dollars will buy me a SERIOUS stash of tiaras!... and all the cupcakes I can eat for... like... EVER!!!  I mean holy cannoli, people!  Did I mention half a billion dollars?!  That's hard to even comprehend.  Think of it in terms of pairs of shoes!  I would need to build a pretty major extension onto my closet for something like that.  Hey!  I could mix and match!  I could buy new tiaras to match each new pair of shoes and have a cupcake while I'm doing it!  There is no end to the delightfulness!  Needless to say, I sent MPH (My Poor Husband) out to buy $10 worth of tickets.  Because face it, I've thrown $10 away on sillier things before.

So this whole thing brought me to thoughts on what would you really do with $520 million dollars.  I mean, I realize the usual.  I'd pay off my house.  I'd pay off my credit cards. I'd put aside money for the royal kids' college fund.  I'd buy that chainsaw wood sculpture of a flamingo that I threaten to buy every time we go to a local festival because I want to put it in the natural area in my front yard but that MPH refuses to let me purchase because he thinks it's tacky or something.  In fact... I'd buy 10.  I'd have my own flock of these chainsawed sculptures!  I'd pose them in different positions.  It'd be what I do for fun while Enrique handles my pool boy and male modeling needs.  You know... the usual.  But after that what do you really do with all that money?!  The answer, dear readers and loyal subjects?  Any damn thing you want to!  I could buy my own elephant with that!  And if my little town tried to pass an ordinance limiting my ability to own an elephant, I could buy the whole town!  But you know what I'd really like?  I'd like a castle!

The funny thing is that I found a castle for sale earlier this week that would just suit my needs.  It's like it was put online for me to find just so I'd know just what to do when I win the lottery.  It turns out there's this actual castle called Richthofen Castle in Denver that was built by the uncle of the Red Baron.  Now that's not the pizza guy, it turns out.  And apparently it's no one related to Snoopy either, but it is, in fact, the uncle of the real WWI pilot.  And this castle, which is really lovely based on the pictures, can be yours for a mere 3.9 million dollars.  It's a STEAL!  And you know what?  Just in case anyone tried to poo poo the fact that you live in a castle, as if any commoner could pick up a castle on the open market, the very name has the word RICH in it.  This is pure perfection.  Oh and just to add spice to the equation, it was also the sight of an infamous murder where some rich guy was killed by his also rich but apparently fed up wife in 1911.  You just can't buy that kind of history, people.  No wait, you can, but it costs $3.9 million.  So yeah, I'd pick myself up a castle with my winning loot and sit around basking in the glory of the Rocky Mountains because basking sounds like something that someone with more money than the US government currently would do.

After my castle, everything else would be a let down.  I'd probably buy myself a slurpy or something from the 7-11.  Then I'd hire someone to move all my flamingo sculptures to the natural area in front of my castle.  The people in the castles around me would complain about how my flamingos were tacky but I'd be too rich to care, I'm better.  Now that I think about it though, I'm not exactly rich now and I still wouldn't care.  I think it's because I'm the Queen.  And royalty does have its benefits.  So for all of you out there who ran out to buy lottery tickets too, good luck!  And if you win, would you buy me a chainsawed flamingo sculpture?  Thanks!  You're the best!

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Better Living Through Chemistry... and Amusement

I want to thank everyone again for their good wishes as I've battled the mother of all colds this week.  Today I am again approaching the land of the living! Whooohooo!  Hades... it's a great place to visit but you wouldn't want to live there.  Yeah okay. That was weak, but I've been sick. Cut me some slack, peeps!  Anyway, I decided to give up on my attempts to tough it out.  Turns out I'm not really all that tough, and besides, better living through chemistry and all that rot!  So back on the meds I went today. And it was good!  I managed to take a shower!!!  Again, work with me.  That's a toughie when you feel bad.  After the shower I even put on make up!  Fake good looks count, if you ask me.  And I fixed my hair!  Alright, alright, I blew it dry.  But honestly, that's about all I do anyway.  I'm lazy.  So sue me.  Anything more is a waste of time I could be otherwise using to try on all my tiaras... at once.... while eating cupcakes.  Aaaaah, the good life.

So anywho... since I was feeling better and much more like my royal self, I called MPH (My Poor Husband) and let him know that he would be lucky enough to take me out to lunch... on him, of course.  Naturally, he was thrilled.  But I had made an effort!  I felt better!  Someone was going to appreciate this, and I thought the general public was a good choice.  So out we went to my favorite restaurant which happens to be owned by two dear friends.  And guess what, dear readers and loyal subjects.  It was lunch and a show day!!!!

That went fairly well except for the loony woman who was one sammich shy of a picnic that beat me to the restaurant.  She was storming out by the time I left but honestly, her complaint was that she didn't like the packaging of her carry out order.  It wasn't packaged in styrofoam.  Instead the packaging was biodegradable, environmentally friendly... obviously it was EVIL... so she brought it back and pitched a profanity laced fit.  It was horrible, people!  I missed it by about 5 minutes!!  Really, I live in a small town in the rural south.  There's not much going on and that would have been something worth talking about for DAYS!  Apparently there was eventual the threat of the cops being called on this chick.  But I have to give her credit for some quick thinking and witty response.  I understand it was "Go ahead! I'll call the cops on you!"  Okay, okay. Not everyone can be me.  She was apparently a little slower on the draw than I would have been.  Regardless, I at least tried to do my part to keep the excitement rolling.  At the end of my meal, I had our regular waitress drag one of the owners out so I could complain that my food was inedible.  He took one look at my plate, which at that point contained  nothing but a slice of onion that I hadn't wanted, basically patted me on the head, and assured me they'd do better next time.  It's tough to be taken seriously around here.

Other than managing to feel human for the entire day at work, that was about the extent of the excitement of my day today.  Some days it's the little things that really count.  At the end of the day I walked outside to find my 6 year old bobbing around in the hot tub in an inflatable fish shaped inner tube.  I thought about asking about it, but even I realize that whatever answer I got wouldn't really cover it.  Instead I took pictures because it amused me.  Maybe tomorrow I'll be even better and willing to challenge her on it.  Or... maybe I'll just pour myself a drink, find a fish of my own and bob around with her.  If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

MPH Thinks He's Funny

Okay, so update on the killer cold.  I felt a little better again this morning, still congested but better, so I made a decision to try to make it through the day without those loopy cold medications.  It was only about 9:30 when MPH (My Poor Husband) gave me a call to ask about something.  And this is what I got for bothering to answer the phone... which I won't be doing again, I assure you... do you hear me, MPH?!

The Queen:  Hello (said in a moderately congested voice...okay, fairly nasal)
MPH: Baby!  Are you okay?
The Queen:  Yeah.  I'm just trying to make it through the day without the cold meds.
MPH: Umm, why?
The Queen:  Because they make me light headed.
MPH:  Sweetheart, you're blonde!  You're supposed to be light headed!  It's your thing!
The Queen:  Think you're funny, don't you?
MPH:  Yup.
The Queen: I know where you sleep, funny boy.

And that, dear readers and loyal subjects, is when I used the nasal spray so I'd be able to breathe better to give him hell when he got home.

Yes, it's true. MPH does think he's funny. I keep trying to explain to him that he's the straight man to my comedic genius and exceptional timing but he just doesn't seem to get it.  For instance, MPH has a favorite joke.  It's a joke about a pig... and it's HORRIBLE!! I hate this joke. I can't TELL you how much I hate this joke.  Mostly I hate it because it's long, and by long I mean this thing takes forever to tell.  I've heard it about a gazillion times.  And on top of it all, it's not funny.  But he loves it.  He's been telling it forever, and just recently I've figured out why.  Turns out he tells it BECAUSE I hate it.  Isn't that just the way men are?  Apparently he's usually able to warn whoever he's telling that I hate this joke.  This way they're able to observe as I begin to explain how much I hate it with full knowledge of what's coming.  And if you can't tell yet, I'm not quiet about how much I hate this joke.  In fact, I nearly go into convulsions as I'm trying to describe how horrible this joke is to whoever is supposed to be listening to them. I beg them to refuse to listen. I plead with them to run while they still can...ANYTHING to make him not tell this joke in some situation where I can't run screaming from the room.  So it would appear that the joke wasn't really the whole point anyway.  The joke is more appropriately on me.  Go figure... geeze.  In retaliation, however, I always tell my favorite joke... which is more than a little obscene... and includes hand and body gestures that require me to stand up to tell it.... usually in a nice restaurant or public place where anyone without a fairly risqué sense of humor will be sure to be mortified.  Yes, people, that's my kind of joke!  And depending on how nice of a place we are when I decide to tell it, MPH has been known to nearly crawl under the table to try to convince anyone in the room that he's not with me.  That's how I know I've done a good job, by the way!  To my credit, at least my joke is funny!

As a reward for listening to me rant about that truly horrible joke that MPH likes to tell, however, I've left a little present on a former post.  I had it pointed out that some were not happy about the fact that I explained both prison tattoos and logical reasoning in the same post without actually showing anyone a picture of my own prison tattoo.  I have remedied that this evening.  So here it is at the bottom of the post.  It's because I love you.  You're welcome.
Enjoy!!!  Oh and if you ever have the chance to meet MPH in person... please oh please oh please, do NOT ask about the pig joke!  I'll give you a dollar later.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Pink. It's the new... well... pink.

Okay first of all, I had to laugh this morning.  After the discussion of what ads should have popped up associated with my post on tiny penises in my houseplant (see here:, I logged in to find an actual ad for Walden University on the blog.  Needless to say I started laughing and called Denise who had come up with that concept in the first place.  She was dumbstruck.

Second, I want to thank everyone for the get well wishes.  I'm feeling much better today.  Still sick, but I'm better!  I'm pretty sure I've beaten back 5 of those 10 burly thugs who attacked me with this cold.  So to answer your next question, yes.  I'm still whining anyway.  Tammie, bless her cold giving heart, has made the cootie thing up to me with a lovely copy of God Save the Queen's lyrics.  I'm considering using it as my personal theme song for a while.  To be honest some of my other personal theme songs have been a bit more... risqué.  But they're always huge fun to sing!

And on a different note, it was my now six-year old's actual birthday today.  Yes, we had the party of the weekend, but this was the big day.  And let me just tell you that having a six year old run the day is an interesting event.  Mine is a micro-manager... and a tyrant!  Yeah, she's me in miniature.  She apparently managed to plan out with her sisters that she would be the one with the final word for the day.  More specifically, she got to indulge in one of her favorite activities and pick their clothes for the day.  This one event alone could have filled up her day.  Kitten, as we call her, isn't one to be afraid of change.  Change is good.  LOTS of change is even better, especially when it comes to clothes.  To begin with, Kitten has a definitive favorite color.  It's pink... the brighter the shade of pink, the better.  And she's a big fan of pink clothes.  She typically wants to choose my clothes for me on any given day.  And if she had her choice, I would be clad perpetually in hot pink... head to toe.  The shades of hot pink might not even match but that's hardly her concern.  And trust me.  I've made the mistake of telling her she could do this in the past.  (I'm a sucker for a cute little princess.)  I own hot pink keds, hot pink heels, a hot pink sundress, hot pink t-shirts, and even pants with hot pink accents.  Yes, I like it too, but not all together!  Her idea of a great outfit for Mom is the hot pink sundress layered over the pants with the heels preferably and maybe a purse to go with it.  There have been occasions when I've walked out of the house in some such ensemble only to stash another set of clothes in a bag, sneak them to my car, and change when I got out there!  Yes, I'm weak.  The tears and fit were more than I could steel myself for on those days.  It was just easier this way.  Though I'm not sure what my neighbors think when they wander out to their car only to see me struggling to change into an entire new outfit in my own car.  Oh well, it's one more thing for them to talk about with their co-workers.  I can hear it now "You are not going to BELIEVE what that woman has done this time."  Now that I think about it, they really owe me.  I'm adding spice to their otherwise boring and rural lives.  I tell MPH the same thing fairly frequently.  It seems to stop his eyelid from twitching when I've otherwise pushed him too far.  Or maybe it doesn't, and I just can't see it anymore when he walks away muttering under his breath.  I'll have to ask him next time.

Anyway!  I'm still a little under the weather so I'm going to take myself on to bed.  Besides I should show MPH how lovely I look in my hot pick PJ's, pink fuzzy bathrobe and pink fuzzy slippers.  Guess who helped me get ready for bed.  See you tomorrow, peeps!

Monday, March 26, 2012

Tammie Gave Me Cooties

Tammie gave me cooties.  It's true!  I have figured this out all in my cold medication addled brain.  Tammie gave me internet cooties.  That is why I am sick after I spent the end of the week and weekend talking to her online and sending her get well wishes.  This is what I get for being a nice person.... cooties... of the icky kind... not that I'm sure there are cooties of any other kind but I feel like I should still clarify that here.

Yes, dear readers and loyal subjects, the Queen has a cold... a particularly nasty one, I assure you.  My head is all congested, and I'm tired of coughing and sneezing after less than 24 hours with it.  And no, it's not allergies.  This is a HUGE and UGLY virus of biblical proportions.  I'm certain that's the only sort of thing that could get through my royal immune system.  It's the equivalent of being jumped by about 10 big, burly thugs.  I swear!  At least that's what I'm telling MPH while I whine to him about not feeling good.  Fortunately I rarely get sick because I really do whine about it.  He's a good sport about it, though. And by good sport, I mean he takes one look at me in my sick costume, yells and backs towards the door while asking me if he can do anything in the tone of voice that says "Please say no!  Please say no!" so he can run screaming for the car.  Yeah, I admit it. I have a sick costume.  It's usually one of two things.  It's either a fleece footed pajama onesie sort of thing... the kind your young kids wear... that's baby blue with teddy bears reclining on clouds (Yeah, I actually own that.) or it's a pair of sweats, t-shirt, and sweatshirt over that.  Today it was the latter.  I was striking, I assure you.  But to my credit, when asked by a friend if I had a scrunchie in my hair too, I was able to answer honestly that I didn't.  I hadn't bothered to run a brush through my mop of hair after I got out of bed either, but at least I didn't have a scrunchie in it!  The Queen has SOME standards.  Yup!  My fever has to be a bit higher for the scrunchie to come out.

All of that said, I still managed to make it through work.  I'm not sure if anything I said or did today made sense.  Cold medications really sort of make me loopy.  Okay, they make me MORE loopy.  So I was loopy and paranoid all day that I might be acting loopy while actually BEING loopy... This was a vicious cycle, people.  Fortunately for all of you, and the coherence of this post, I am now cold medication free.  Unfortunately for me, I'm back to being congested, sounding like I'm talking in a tunnel, and wondering if straight whiskey is a good treatment for a cold.  At this point, it can't hurt!  Okay, I'm off. Where the heck are my drugs.  Get rest and drink OJ, people.  Apparently this thing is catching!

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Zumba... Without That Pesky Exercise

Is it bad that I like the music from my zumba class better than I like actually going to zumba?  It's not that I dislike zumba.  In fact, now that I think about it, I really enjoy it.  Anything that actually convinces me that I'm dancing rather than exercising is a good thing, in my mind. I love to dance.  I hate to exercise!  But zumba is something that I found recently and started doing... before I got lazy and quit going because I could come up with too many other things that needed to be done instead of an exercise/dance class... like cleaning out the corners of my office behind the bookshelves or drying my hair without washing it first... whatever!  So yeah, I admit it, I'm not a huge fan of exercise even though I enjoyed the zumba class. I think it's a mental thing, and there will be no "mental" jokes at this time, kthanxbai!  Anyway, despite all of this, I really enjoyed the music my zumba instructor selected.

I think it's the fact that this woman isn't stick skinny.  She's a curvy sort of girl.  I'M a curvy sort of girl.  I can weigh nearly nothing and my body is still going to curve!  I'm a girl, not an adolescent boy, dammit!  I even gifted MPH (My Poor Husband) with a text/picture message of my cleavage today because I was bored at work and thought it looked nice.  But my point is that the music she selected emphasized that it was okay to be curvy.  My favorite was the Moto Moto song from Madagascar.  Yeah, you heard me!  I like a song from a cartoon!  Darn thing was called Big and Chunky.  Yes, a hippo sang it (played by from the Black Eyed Peas so still cool) but that's not the point!  This song espouses the joys of the curvy among us.  It's okay to not be a toothpick, which is good because the Queen is NOT a toothpick.  So naturally whatever she IS is a good thing.  Welcome to my world, peeps.  Okay, so the heroine of Big and Chunky eats so much she eats a barking dog, but these are hippos, people!  Don't judge!  It's a food chain thing, I'm pretty sure.  Anyway, so I always liked this song and the Queen can seriously shake it for some Moto Moto.  The other song she used that I really enjoyed was Chocolate (Choco Choco) by Soul Control.  This one was all about loving chocolate!  And it has a seriously danceable beat (or zumbable... look! I just made a word!  You're welcome.).  This song also has the added advantage of having the line "It makes you happy!  It gets you sexy!  It makes you fat!  But we don't care about that!"  I love these people!!!!  It's like they're running around inside my head!  Okay, if they were really running around in my head, they'd have run off screaming by now, but you see my point.

Alright, I see that I appear to be obsessed with sweets and the consequences of said sweets here but it's been that kind of weekend.  My baby, who we call Kitten, turns 6 on Tuesday and we had her birthday party on Saturday.  Yes, I had my wand out and was MagiQuest-ing again (See here for round one at MagiQuest and how I let my friend Julie win because I'm a good friend like that!  But the point here is that we had birthday cake.  There are few things on this planet that I can't resist (most of which aren't tempting at all, like brussel sprouts covered in peanut butter because I'm the sort that can resist anything but temptation, but I digress), but high on the list of irresistible is birthday cake with that gritty icing that's all lard and sugar and has no redeeming qualities... you know, like cupcakes!  Yeah, it's not a big stretch.  You people should have seen this coming.  But I admit it.  Birthday cake is like my own personal kryptonite.  I can not resist!  I had it for breakfast with a cup of espresso in a vampire mug that was a gift from when MPH went to Transylvania.  THIS is the true breakfast of champions!  By the way, people often ask the Queen of health advice.  It's sort of part of her job.  I'd like to officially state here that I'm a do as I say and not as I do kind of girl.  There.  Now you know.

Anyway, I am now listening to all the zumba music that i enjoyed from class without actually, you know, doing any zumba. This is the life, people!  Now someone bring me some more cake!

Friday, March 23, 2012

The Weekly Random Wrap Up

Yes indeed, dear readers and loyal subjects, it's time for our weekly random wrap up.  It's that time of the week where I bring to you all those random tidbits that I've gathered together for you all week that just didn't fit into any particular post... including the one about tiny yellow penises in my house plant.  And yes, I know.  That's really sort of frightening when you think about it.  Regardless, even I have a hard time getting all the random to fit some weeks.  And this... was one of them.

This week I learned an important life lesson.  Frankly, I may have known this back in kindergarden but if I did, I forgot it and so it was important to learn again.  So here it is.  If you're going to make a popsicle stick puppet, you shouldn't use superglue.  I accidentally glued myself to a stick puppet of my hero, The Bloggess.  And yes, I have a stick puppet of The Bloggess.  What?  You have a problem with that?  Just wait, peeps!  One day you'll all be happy to have stick puppets of me.  And when you do... don't use superglue.  Words of wisdom from me to you.

If you have little girls and they play with water balloons, you should watch them carefully.  It turns out that inevitably it occurs to one of them to put the water balloons in their bathing suit tops.  I was unprepared for the sight of my 7 year old and 9 year old with water balloon boobs... and I had diet coke in my mouth.  It got messy.

Now this next one is left over wisdom from Disney World that I saved up for you.  Turns out, it's really hard to get a good picture of a large cupcake with pink frosting.  I got one at Disney World before I left with every intention of posting a picture for you.  I've found, however, that they don't stick around long enough to get their picture taken... even when we're alone.  I'm not sure why that is.  I'm sure it was the cupcake's fault, though.  I should probably get another one and check out my theory... or ten.

This one is a Facebook related lesson.  If you ever fall into a pool while trying to rescue your 90 pound German Shepherd, don't post that fact on Facebook and expect to get some sympathy, even from your own mother.  Apparently everyone really just wants to know if the dog is okay... including your own mother.  Which now that I think of it, I'm probably lucky she didn't bother to eat her own young.  (Just kidding, Mom!)

When MPH suggests that we should leave Disney World very early in the morning so we miss some of the traffic on the way home and then I ignore him, as I tend to do, he really isn't in the best mood when we hit traffic and lose an hour on the drive home.  Oh and a caveat to this one.  If it's Bike Week in Daytona and you have to drive through, it's best to decide to stop for breakfast at any exit OTHER than the one with the a three story Harley Davidson dealership that serves as one of the centers of bike activity.  Turns out bikers get really hungry too... in mass.

And last but not least.  You haven't been on vacation with The Queen until the cops have been called!  Chalk up one successful vacation!  And if you missed it, trust me. This one was worth a read.

Now I hope you all have a wonderful start to your weekend.  The Queen will be at her baby's birthday party.  She's turning six and it's round 2 of the Dueling Wars at MagiQuest.  I'll be sure to do you proud!  Kisses and cupcakes for everyone!

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Misadventures in Google Ads

Alright, I admit it.  My overactive sense of curiosity has gotten the better of me.  And now you, dear readers and loyal subjects, are exposed to the results.  Sorry!!!!!  Actually, it's not that bad.  You see this all happened because of a conversation I had with Denise, my friend from work... who really is to blame here now that I think about it, right about the time I started the blog.  We were talking about my plans for the blog itself and the fact that there really wasn't going to be a "theme" so to speak.  The Queen doesn't do themes... unless it's AWESOMENESS or perhaps FABULOUSNESS, but I'm not certain that's really cohesive enough for a theme.  Is random a theme?!  Oh yeah, back to the conversation.  So Denise asks me if I'm going to have ads on the blog, and my response was, naturally, "Who the hell would want to advertise on my blog?!"  Face it, peeps.  I wasn't even sure what I was doing.  I'm lucky to be able to work the computer well enough to even figure out how to post on my own blog!  And it's not like I'm writing anything that is likely "highly marketable," except to other fabulous and awesome people, of course.  I pretty much just write about whatever weird thing has struck me as funny at any given point in time.  I'm pretty sure you've noticed that by now. So basically the only product I was able to come up with that might want to advertise here was Ritalin!  Regardless, Denise had an answer.  Her answer was "porn" because apparently it's everywhere else (even the non-turtle and pterodactyl kind ) so why wouldn't it want to be advertised on my blog?

Now, I admit this too.  I have an insanely overwhelming sense of curiosity.  And over the past month, the question of who would want to advertise on my blog has come back to haunt me again and again.  And it just so happens that it turns out there's an answer!  Google Ads wants to help me find that answer!  It appears that Google Ads coordinates advertising on specific blogs.  They come in and do some kind of magical evaluation of your blog and then hook you up with sponsors who place ads in the space you allow.  And I use "sponsors" in a very loosely defined way.  Regardless, my curiosity did get the better of me finally, and so I signed up just to satisfy it and find out who they would match up with the awesome randomness that is my blog.

Now, here's what I've found out.  First, the ads change with each time you load the page so you don't always see the same ads.  I will say that most of them did seem to focus either on something that is totally ubiquitous (some ad to make your computer run faster) or on something I mentioned in my blog (puppy adoption ads associated with any post I mentioned a dog in, which is a lot lately).  But there was one ad that I found this morning when I logged in that truly made me laugh until I cried.  And it's not just that the topic seemed odd to me, but it was because it seemed odd in general and even odder that something about it had made someone choose to place it after a post on tiny penises in my house plant!  Frankly the only ads I can come up with that are really appropriate there would be for either plant services or maybe Viagra (Tammie's vote) or even Denise's choice...Walden University: A higher degree, A higher purpose.  Surprisingly though, in the war of the random... Google Ads has won the first battle.  Curse you, Google Ads!!!!

"Do You Rap?  Wanna Perform?"  That was the title of the ad.  I just stared at it and thought "Really?!"  I mean let's think about this.  Exactly WHAT in a post about tiny penises in my house plant makes someone think "Oh!  You know what this post needs?  An ad for rappers!"  Really, people?!!!  And do you want to know what I found even funnier?  The ad was grammatically incorrect!  Maybe it was intentional?  I'm not certain, but the next line shouldn't have been "Perform Live opening for a Industry Artist in your city, Submit Today" because it should have been AN Industry Artist.  Elementary school grammar, peeps!  Use it!  And yes, I'm the grammar Queen too.  But that said, I never had any idea I would find ads quite so amusing as I do today.  The potential jokes just keep on coming, but for now I'll let you all come up with some of your own.  Feel free to post in a comment!

(By the way, I fully expect Google Ads to cancel my service within the next 24 hours.  I'm betting they don't think the ads are nearly as funny as I do.  It'll have been worth it though!)

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Why Are There Penises In My House Plant?

Okay, I realize that Freud would be having a field day here but today I discovered tiny penises in my house plant!  I only have one house plant in my house because I have a serious black thumb, and it's here in my office.  So here I sit, just chillin'... (I mean working hard, Cherie!) and I turned around to look out the window.  That's when I was reminded of the need to water my plant... that's why it lives in front of the window, people.  I need all the reminders I can to keep from killing this thing.  I've had it over a year and it's been alive that entire time... mostly!  It's really a miracle.  So anyway, I went to check the soil by delicately poking one royal  finger at it, and that's when I found them.  Penises... Little neon yellow penises in my plant.  Just what has my plant been doing while I was working with my back to it?!

Now I know that if I just tell you, dear readers and loyal subjects, that there are penises in my plant, then I know you will say "But Queen, surely you're exaggerating.  What's REALLY in your plant?"  At least that's what I'd imagine you'd say.  I called MPH and told him I had tiny yellow penises in my house plant.  He asked "Is that why you called me?"  I told him it was and he muttered something about needing to go back to work.  It was HIGHLY disappointing as far as responses go.  Telling my friends at work went a little better.  Actually, I sent them pictures.  I mean really!  Wouldn't you need photographic proof before you believed that my plant had invading little penises in it?!  Well, Denise cut right to the chase, took one look at the picture and announced that she thought my plant was "screwed."  I kid you not.  Tammie, on the other hand, told me she thought I should probably take better care of my plants.  That's when I offered to turn on mood lighting and water the whole lot of them with a Jack and coke but apparently that's not what she meant.  Tammie really needs to learn to be more specific.  I figured playing a little Barry White would help too but again... that wasn't what she meant.

Now, I realize you're all just dying to see these little yellow penises.  Oh and by the way, MPH tells me I should never call any penises "little" but they are.  So here's the picture you know I took for you.

It turns out it's unnaturally hard to take decent pictures with an iPhone of tiny penis plants, but there they are... the neon yellow ones hiding around the base of the mushrooms that also invaded.  MPH felt fairly confident that the penises were immature mushrooms but I'm sticking with the tiny invading penis theory because really... why would you not?!!!  Besides, even I think penises are funnier than mushrooms.  Mushrooms are so mundane.  Penises... now penises are funny!!!  Just ask me... but don't ask MPH.  He took that whole statement sort of personally.  Men... what can you do?  The bottom line though is that I don't have the heart to pull these little guys up out of the plant.  They just seem so... helpless!  I'm planning to let them get a little bigger then I'll get them out.  I feel less guilty about pulling up mushrooms.  Yeah, it's just one of those odd things.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

I've Fallen and I Can't Get Out!

It's been a beautiful and already very warm spring here in the sunny South.  The temperatures are running in the high 70's and low 80's and it's been just about perfect.  Now if you live in the south, those previous statements bring to mind one thing... pool weather!  Yes, it's about that time, my dear readers and loyal subjects.  It's about time for those of us who have, live near, or can sneak into a pool to open them up.  Granted, it's mid March so it's early yet, but we're all thinking about it anyway!  The Queen is fortunate enough to have a pool. We put it in last spring and loved having it well into the fall.  It's a great outlet for the kids.  Let those little monkeys swim some of that energy off, I always say!  And it's even better for me.  I bask in the sun on my little pool float and drink the most marvelous blender drinks while looking just FABULOUS in my little bikini... at least that's what I always mean to do.  The reality is that I fight my kids for the mat, pray they don't play shark then come up under me and flip me off just as I do manage to get a sip of whatever I've spilled the least amount of into the pool all while hoping the neighbors don't see me because that diet really hasn't done what I want it to yet.  I'm working on fixing that, though!

I have a solution to part of the problem.  I announced it earlier in the day to MPH.  I want a pool boy.  I'm just putting this out there.  I don't think it's that unusual all on its own.  I mean, what woman really doesn't want a pool boy.   It doesn't even really matter if you have a pool!  Though I must add that it makes it a lot harder to justify when your spouse tries to figure out what this guy really does other than stand around looking hot and handing you drinks with cutesy names and little umbrellas in them.  Not that there's really much more that he NEEDS to be doing by my way of thinking.  So I decided to express this to MPH (My Poor Husband).  And because I'm me, I believe in being very specific when discussing what I want just to keep there from being any confusion.

The Queen:  I want a pool boy.
MPH:  You want a pool boy?
The Queen:  Yes, I want a pool boy... but I want a particular one.
MPH:  I'm almost afraid to ask.  What particular one?
The Queen:  I want a pool boy named Enrique who has fled Cuba because he didn't feel right about continuing his thriving modeling career under an evil dictatorship.
MPH:  (Well he didn't really say anything. He pretty much just stared at me as he sometimes does.  I'm not sure why.)
The Queen:  What?
MPH:  You want... never mind, you know what?  I'm willing to go all the way to Cuba to interview Enrique for you... and his sister, the porn star.
The Queen:  Wow!  I didn't know about her!  Does she have any useful talents?
MPH:  Well now you do, and I'm betting she does.  Let me know when I need to go.

I suspect that MPH was oozing a bit of sarcasm there, but I'm not really certain.  I still have hopes for Enrique, though.

Now on a side note, it turns out that I wasn't the only one thinking that it might be about time to open up the pool.  My 11 year old German Shepherd, Aubrey, seemed to have it in mind too.  I think that's why she decided to take the plunge into the pool today.  I could be wrong though.  All I know is that I was upstairs in my office working diligently (Did you hear that Cherie?! Diligently!!  Everyone wave to Cherie, my boss!) with the window open for some fresh air when I heard the splash.  I looked out the window, and there was Aubrey clinging to the side of the pool like she was just resting there for a bit between laps.  Well, I was pretty sure that that's NOT what she was doing despite her nonchalant appearance and so I went barreling down the stairs, yelling for her... like she was going to just hop right on out of there because she heard her name or something.  It was instinct, people.  Don't judge me!  Well I got outside and assessed the situation.  I was fully clothed and there was my dog in the pool which has a vinyl liner that I knew she could cut with her claws. There was no help for it.  She was too heavy to pull out.  I was going to have to get in to carry her out, or at least carry her to the steps.

I figured I was going to get my pants wet during this process.  I was resigned to it, but I did take my shoes off.  What I didn't count on was the fact that the pool still isn't clean enough for me to call it open and the steps leading into the pool were slippery!!!  I made it down the first and lost it on the second.  That second splash was me falling all the way into the pool still fully clothed.  I swear to you, Aubrey looked back at me accusingly.  It was almost like she was asking "Are you going to splash around back there or are you going to help me out."  I just sighed and trudged over, dripping wet, got her around the middle and carried her back to the stairs.  She climbed the rest of the way out, shook to get the water off, then looked back at me as if I was supposed to do it too.  She gave up on me, though, and off she went to lie in the sun.  I should have done the same.

The day definitely didn't go the way I had expected, and so, dear readers and loyal subjects, this is just one more reason why I need a pool boy... and more drinks.  This would have been a LOT better with Enrique to rescue the dog and then me!  You know, I'm going to go warm up the blender now and hope Enrique gets here soon.  You people should have one too.  I'm just sayin'.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Manual Labor? Me?!

You know, my day started out as any first real day back at work after trying to take over Disney World could possibly start.  I will admit that the Disney take over was harder than I'd have expected.  Turns out those Princesses band together when a Queen shows up.  Shoving one off a float so I'd have more room to wave to my subjects apparently just got them all feeling testy.  Who'd have thought?  But back to what I was talking about... my day was going pretty well.  I'd had my espresso.  I'd had a large cupcake with pink icing and little Mickey Mouse confetti that had managed to come home with me.  (What?!  It's the breakfast of champions, people!)  My people at work were all well.  My meetings went smoothly, mostly because they'd been postponed but that still counts, and I was able to keep up even after being gone for a while.  With all that said, why oh why did I end up doing manual labor after my work day ended?!

Now, manual labor isn't one of those things I'm usually very good at.  The Queen has her skill set.  I shop exquisitely.  I accessorize with glorious abandon.  I can point out the flaws of any of a number of princesses with nary a backwards glance.  I even pose for paparazzi photos without breaking a sweat, but I will admit that there are other skills I simply don't possess.  Needless to say, manual labor is one of those.  I'm not entirely sure how I got sucked into the vicious and labor intensive cycle today.  Oh and cooking.  Cooking is another of those things and I thought I should throw it out there as long as I was confessing to these teensy tinsy shortcomings.  And budgeting... because let's face it.  Queen's don't budget.  I think I'm getting off topic now, though.  Not sure how that happened either.

Anywho!  So there I was at the end of my work day when my beautiful middle daughter, Kaffie, came into my office to announce "It's 5:09.  When will you be finished?"  The only appropriate answer (mostly since I had caught up with everything by that time) seemed to be "Is now good for you?"  And... it was.  She wanted to play so off we went to the back yard.  And that's where it happened.  It was the four letter word... the one that starts with W... you know... don't you?  Oh please, do I have to hold your hands for this?!  It was WORK!  There was work hiding in wait for me in the backyard!  There it was... stalking me!  I swear that's what happened!  I walked out the door and it attacked!  There was nothing to be done to stop it!  Even I, your Queen, couldn't get away!  So my daughter and I somehow ended up working in the yard, getting things done and generally giving myself  a blister on my hand.  And that, dear readers and loyal subjects is just WRONG!  I think I even broke a nail!  This was not how my day was supposed to go.

I have to admit that my daughter did come up with a stroke of genius.  She's my daughter and all, and I'm terribly biased, but even with that in mind, this was still good stuff!  You see, we have one older dog and a new puppy, both of whom spent the past week being cared for in our fenced in back yard.  You see where I'm going with this, right?  There was some significant clean up that needed to go on.  So there I was with one shovel and a hoe trying to clean up the yard so we can walk barefoot through it.  This was, needless to say, a less than Queenly task.  But since I was the one who brought the sweet and cute puppy home, as MPH would no doubt remind me, I figured I'd better get started on it.  I'd gotten about half the yard done when my daughter, her royal cuteness, looked up at me and said the words that still resound with their sheer rightness!  "Mom," she said, "I think a boy should be doing this."  Okay, I admit that I wasn't completely clear on her logic when she first said it.  I did, however, stop a moment to think about it.  Let's just get this out here now.  While I am definitely the Queen here, I still have a hard time coming up with anything that I think a guy can do that I can't.  Add to that the fact that I might have a wee bit of a stubborn streak whenever anyone tells me they think I can't do something, and you have a recipe for me being absolutely certain that I can not only do anything I want, but that I can do it better than anyone else!  I so totally rock that way!  But I did stop and ask her about it, and even I can't fault her logic.  She looked at me and said "This is yuck!"  And yes, I had to admit it sort of was.  So she followed that up with "And boys usually like to do the yuck things."  And that is exactly when I stopped doing the manual labor and put the shovel and hoe aside for MPH (My Poor Husband), because who was I to fault that logic.

On a side note, I did try to explain the whole thing to MPH who apparently has a faulty logic synapse or two in his noodle.  There was just no reasoning with the man.  I did however have a bunch of fliers made up that say "Kaffie for President!"  I figure her idea is definitely as good as any I've heard out of any other candidates of either party during this election year.  I think we're sure to get the royal votes!  Everyone be sure to register and vote often!  We're in it to win it!  Go team!

Cinderella Breathes a Sign of Relief

Yes, my dear readers and loyal subjects, I have returned home from Disney World!  No more will those princesses have to make way for the Queen on their floats.  No more will their Princes ignore them in favor of yours truly... at least until I make my next trip back.

So this isn't really a post but just a quick note to say that I'm home and will be back and posting as usual tonight.  You are all in my thoughts, and I will be searching my day for the absurd and random just for your reading and giggling pleasure.

Kisses and pink cupcakes for you all!!!  Oh and feel free to check out my run in with the police or some of the other posts you might have missed.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

And Then The Cops Came

You know, the Queen lives her life fairly simply.  She wears a fairly subtle tiara when she goes out of the house.  She runs to the grocery store with only her chauffeur in tow to carry her bags.  She puts her pants on one leg at a time... when she's not modeling the latest in haute couture, of course.  Because we all know that those pants go on over your head... when they have pants at all.  But I digress.  My point here is that the Queen prefers to live her life like you do, my dear readers and loyal subjects.  She tries not to attract any more notice than her obvious regal bearing and good looks demand.  That said, it's been ages since she's had the cops called on her!  I mean, if I think about it and had to put a time category on it.... I'd say... it's been.... ooooooh.... at least a week!  But all that came to a screeching halt today when the boys in blue came looking for her.

And it all started out so nicely, too!  MPH (My Poor Husband) and I were out with Betty (hereafter known as MPR or My Poor Realtor for having to put up with me running higgeldy piggeldy through a series of potential vacation homes criticizing the furniture choices and why anyone in their right mind would build a wall only part way to the ceiling and then call one huge ass room two which is beyond me) calmly scouting potential vacation investment properties near Disney World.  There were some lovely homes (the most lovely being about 3 times what I was looking to pay, naturally, but it was AWESOME!) but I do have to admit that there was a lot of police activity around one home.  It was the sheriff department helicopter that originally alerted us to some sort of issue.  It kept buzzing around one development while we looked at a home there.  Then when we tried to leave the way was blocked by two police cars with lights flashing, though they did let us through.  We found out later that there was an attempted break-in in the neighborhood (always a downer for potential purchasers... just saying').  But we figured it was no big deal.  Well at least that's what we told Betty and her husband when they didn't seem to get that we were kidding around the time we yelled "Holy crap!  It's the pigs!" and dove for cover in the first house.  I'm not sure why my sense of humor is just lost on some people.  Oh well!  They'll all survive!  On the plus side, there had been renters in this home before we got there and the cleaning service was there getting it ready for another set of renters.  Turned out the first set had left some beer in the fridge so we got the bonus tour that came with the extra beer!  No one else wanted it so somehow a can ended up coming into the car with me.   It was a can of Busch.... only the classy stuff for me, people!

Anyway, we did keep moving away from ground zero for the local sheriff's department and went to a truly amazing neighborhood.  This place was AWESOME!  The homes were a big *cough cough* WAY *cough cough* out of our price range but they were worth looking at if only to say that I'd been in these places and stolen a door knob or two while I was there.  At least that was my plan.  Apparently the cops figured out the plan too.  Phoey.  So Betty takes us to this just killer house there in the neighborhood.  And I'd like to take a moment to state for the record that even though the police came, there was no actual murder taking place either now or at any time in the past at this home... to my knowledge.  But back to the story... we get to this home and make it through the front door, only to be greeted by the buzzing of the alarm system.  Now we all know that there's a code for the alarm system and Betty, of course, had it!  Or at least we all thought she did.  Turns out... not so much!  The code she had did nothing to dispel the buzzing and, in fact, the buzzing turned into loud whoops of siren noises that were definitely less than tranquil.  This is about the time we decided that it would behoove us to scour the outside of the house prior to the arrival of the police.  Fortunately Betty spoke to the alarm company and got the alarm cut off again so all was well.  That's when the real criminal activity began.  This house was spectacular!  It was perfection!  It was beautiful!  It was expensive as hell, and I wasn't planning to leave it!  I was moving in!!  The heck with pilfered door knobs. I wanted to pilfer the whole house!  Squatting is legal, right?!  I'm not kidding here!  It looked like someone had snuck into my head, figured out what I loved best, and smacked all of it down in one place and yelled "Voila!"  This was the result.  It made my heart beat a little faster, and I savored every moment I got to spend there... right up until the cops came.

We were really about to leave.  I swear we were!  No one saw me doing otherwise!  That's when we heard the knock and could see the two officers standing outside the cut glass door.  Naturally, because no one would expect otherwise, MPH and I both ran towards the door past the embarrassed Betty.  Howling in laughter with our hands up over our heads, we flung the door open and yelled "WE DIDN'T DO IT!!!" I think we both had the idea to claim it was a hostage situation just in case there was any confusion about who to shoot at.  The thing was the two officers were already laughing when we opened the door.  Normally I figure that's a good thing, but I wasn't sure that they should have found us all that funny that quickly.  We could have been hardened criminals!  We could have been anyone!  There was an alarm involved here!!  So lowering our hands and staring at them as if they had no sense whatsoever, we watched as Betty managed to push past both of us and explain the situation, apologizing profusely.  When she finished, we found out they were afraid that this alarm had been caused by whoever was trying to break into the next neighborhood down, so they'd sent two cars to investigate.  I was kind of sad to find out that we didn't warrant the helicopter.  But given that information, even Betty began to wonder what they were laughing at when we opened the door.  So they told us.  They'd come up on the house and seen our minivan in the driveway.  Looking through the window they'd also seen the can of Busch beer.  It would seem that a minivan with beer in it isn't the usual modus operandi for house thieves working the area.  Who knew?  It was a little disheartening to find out that I no longer inspire fear in the hearts of police everywhere....maybe if I'd been driving truck or something.  I'm really not sure.  But they were very nice and understanding about the whole thing.  So we waved and called goodbye to them and just before they drove off, I yelled back at MPH "They're going now!  Grab the flat screen!"  I don't think Betty really wants to show us any more houses, and I can't say I blame her.

Friday, March 16, 2012

The Weekly Random Wrap-up!

Okay, everybody!  It's time to grab your cupcakes and hang on because it's time for the weekly random wrap-up!  Whooohooo!  I'm excited!  Are you excited?  I certainly hope so because really all I've got here is a title that I just wanted to use.  I mean, come on.  Have you tried saying it yet?  Weekly Random Wrap-up... If you have, then I think you should try it five times fast because it made me giggle after about two and a half.  But to be fair, a lot makes me giggle.  Actually, I've been thinking on and off all day today about what I'd like to talk about tonight.  It's my last night on vacation with the family and my mind's been all over the place.  I've had a lot going on and so never could settle on one topic.  So you see, I stumbled onto my obviously GENIUS title for tonight but then wasn't sure what to do with it.  But now I know!  I will regale you, dear readers and loyal subjects, with all the odd little things that have gone on this week that really just didn't fit into any other post, which, now that I think about it, is impressive all on it's own.  I wrote about pterodactyl porn this week.  It's kind of hard to imagine what else I have that I thought didn't fit in somewhere else if I made room in a post for that!  Anyway, here goes!

1.  Working while you're on vacation can be an interesting experience.  I work online so I ended up working on both Wednesday and Friday while I was down here.  Today, I spent the whole day with the windows open and a lizard who kept me company.  He spent most of the day on the side of the screened area surrounding the ubiquitous Orlando area house pool, but I'm pretty sure I caught him humping it a few times during the day.  Once I caught him sitting on the window sill staring in at me while I worked.  I wasn't sure if he was thinking about humping the window sill next or if he was trying to sell me insurance.  I wasn't sure that either option was good.

2.  There's not much funnier than a five year old staring up at you in the gift shop at the Rockin' Roller Coaster in Disney World while wearing a headband with Mickey Mouse shaped, glittery antennae on it when you just aren't expecting it. Trust me on this one.  I have pictures!

3.  Little Miss Matched, the previously mentioned five year old's favorite source for socks, is now making (I'm not making this up here...) cupcake themed mismatched sock...that are scratch and sniff!!!  They claim the smell will last through about 17 washings before going away.  You just have to rub your finger lightly over the cupcakes on the socks and then you can sniff them.  I've thought about this and can see no end to the jokes that can be made here... or the tricks that can be played with these socks.  And yes, before you ask, there is a set of them already packed in my suitcase.

How can these NOT be a great idea?!  Here's the link if you want some too.

4.  If you let me into a home that's for sale fully furnished, you should expect me to make gagging noises if the furnishings are horrible.  Now, the Queen is never rude, as I'm certain you know, but there is an appropriate amount of gagging that can be performed delicately behind one's hand and covered with an obviously faked cough.  That's what I was going for there.  Or maybe it was more along the lines of the amount of gagging that would be required if my previously discussed lizard friend had tried to run away from the horrific furnishings and kill himself by tossing himself down my throat.  Yes, that about sums it up.  And I must say here that the furnishings in one house... Whew!  Worse than any smelly sock jokes I could come up with.

5.  If you are a mere princess and the Queen shows up, it is best if you scooch aside a little on your float before the Queen shoves you off it.  A Queen needs a lot of room to wave to her loyal subjects, and by any reckoning, Queen trumps princess.  So there.  Now don't be such a cry baby, Snow White!

And with that, I leave you to the rest of your day, dear readers and loyal subjects!  I have one more day in the Magic Kingdom tomorrow which I plan to use to ride everything twice and find the biggest, pinkest cupcake in the Magic Kingdom and have my picture made with it!  I'll post the results.  You're welcome.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Pterodactyl Porn... I can't make this stuff up.

Alright, I have friends, people.  I have lots of friends, now that I think about it, but some of them are weirder than others.  And some of them have SERIOUSLY weird web links that they seem to delight in sending me.  And when the Queen says weird, trust me, she means WEIRD!

Fortunately for me... and you since you appear to be compelled to read this post... a lot of this stuff is really weird in an oh so hysterical way.  I mean, let's face it.  Sex is pretty funny anyway, and the stuff that people come up with to post on the internet related to sex is even funnier!  I'll have to start out with turtle sex here.  Have you ever seen turtles having sex?  Actually, it's not so much seeing them as hearing them. Okay, now that I think about it, it's seeing them too.  Turns out that male turtles get down right testy when they want sex.  They proceed to headbut the bejeezes out of females until they get what they want.  And these aren't really ninja turtles I'm talking about here!  They just look it once they're horny.  If you've never seen this, then I can assure you it's worth a watch.  I laugh until I cry every single time I watch it!

This turtle has a FANTASTIC time with his partner who, if you look closely, I'm pretty sure is asleep.  Oh and if you're easily offended by turtles having sex, you should probably not click on that link up there.  You also probably shouldn't keep reading because it just goes downhill from here, peeps.

Now, as if the fact that people actually film turtles having sex purely for their own amusement isn't odd enough, I have more for you!  You're welcome, by the way.  And if you do a quick you tube search you'll find that there are a LOT of people filming turtles having sex.  Don't even get me started on the turtles having sex with shoes videos.  (It would seem that I have a bit too much time on my hands sometimes, or that I have really weird friends who do these searches for me.  I vote the latter.)  Anyway, so this friend of mine sends me a link to something I never EVER thought I would see... and I assure you that I never really needed to see it... pterodactyl sex.  Who knew there was a fetish regarding pterodactyls?!  I mean, I consider myself to be rather worldly, but never in my WILDEST and most kooked up dreams did I ever imagine pterodactyl sex.  And yet, there it is!  It's right there on the interwebz!  People dressed up as pterodactyls and having sex with some girl who is NOT dressed up as a pterodactyl is beyond even what I could make up.  They even flap their wings!  I couldn't stop laughing.  I'd give you the link but it's porn, people!  Google it for yourself.  You know you can.  Oh and if you happen upon a site about the weirdest kinds of sex, eel sex is right after the pterodactyls.  I was afraid to click it.  Let me know how it is if you do.

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

German Biergarten:1, The Queen:0

I had a flash of brilliance today while I was having lunch at the German Biergarten in Epcot.  I knew immediately what I wanted to write about this evening.  I recognized this thought for what it was at the time... sheer genius.  Then I somehow accidentally challenged a guy at the next table, who was a lot bigger than me I should tell you, to a beer drinking contest and somehow that thought flew out the window.  Honestly, I was minding my own business at the time.  I haven't been to Germany in about a year now, but I finally learned to drink beer the last time I was there.  To be accurate, I drink beer mixed with Sprite which is called a radler or something like that, and it's really the only way I can drink it. I've never been able to stand the taste of beer by itself.  But when you're in Munich at the Haufbrau Haus, it's suddenly really important that you participate in the whole cultural experience of having a liter of beer.  So I figured out that I could do it this way. Which brings me back to the Biergarten.  Since it had been almost a year since I'd last had one, I decided to participate in the cultural experience again, so I ordered another radler.  The waitress asked if I wanted a small or large one, and I just had to have the whole liter stein again, so I picked large.  That's what seems to have started it all.

After I'd been served my beer, another table was seated.  I looked up to find the waitress pointing at me, and I realized the gentleman at the next table was trying to decide what size beer to order as well. She was apparently pointing out mine to demonstrate the size of the large.  Well, you all know the Queen is accommodating, so of course I held up my beer, smiled, waved, then may have made some comment about how only wusses ordered the smalls.  I can't exactly remember how it went now. I swear.  Anyway, next time I look over, this guy has a nice large liter stein as well.  It was all very social at that point.

It wasn't until I was loading up a plate with schnitzel and spatzel at the buffet that I ran into him and had a chance to chat.  That's where we began to talk about the size of this thing.  He said something about the fact that he'd be drinking on it for the next half hour, and so I helpfully suggested he put a nipple on it.  At that point, it was on!  We raced back to our respective tables and held up our beers to see who had the most left in it.  From there we checked frequently.  This guy was apparently a lush because he was flying through that thing!  Or maybe I'm a lightweight and should have considered that before I began to taunt him.  Who knows, but I had to come up with some creative drinking skills.  These involved me pouring beer rather frequently into my "to go" beer cup (God bless Disney) and having MPH hold it and hide it under the table so it looked like I was doing much better than I was.... and he was still beating me!  At one point he called over to me to let me know that the place closed at 9pm... it was 1pm at that point, so I poured everything I had left into my hidden cup and called out triumphantly to him while seeming to upend my glass and finish it entirely.  Yes, I admit it. I am not above cheating. This was a matter of principle, people!  My drinking prowess was at stake.  The fact that I usually just threaten to drink and rarely actually do it is beside the point!  I refused to go down without swinging.

We ended up calling it a draw. Turns out he'd finished about the same time as I'd hidden all my beer.  The Queen had not lost.  All was well.  It was a shame that I ran into him another country down from Germany after we left.  There I stood with a full plastic cup of beer, and he looked awfully suspicious.  I think I managed to cover though.  I slurred a bit, swayed on my feet and told him I'd gotten another one... then I asked him where his was when MPH hauled me off complaining.  Seems he didn't want to see me figure out how to cheat a second time.  Apparently they frown on you pouring beer surreptitiously into the plants during the Flower and Garden Show.  Who knew?

Monday, March 12, 2012

But It's MY Ice Cream!

Watching your child stand outside the Dole booth in the Magic Kingdom at Walt Disney World and yelling, "I'm not sharing! I'm not sharing!  I'm not sharing!" is one of those parental nightmares we all dread.  If you add in actual foot stomping, it's apparently worse.  At least that's what my mother assured me earlier today, but to be fair, it was MY ice cream!  Maybe she should have waited another day before coming to meet us at Disney World.  Then she'd have missed the whole event and only MPH would have been mortified.  The kids just wanted my ice cream, despite having their own I might add... but they seemed unphased by my attempt to take a page out of their own books and pitch a fit.  Oh well. It was worth a shot.

Disney World is truly one of my favorite places in the world.  This is such a well known fact that MPH (in this particular context that does stand for My Perfect Husband) even arranged for us to have a vow renewal for our tenth wedding anniversary at the Wedding Pavilion next door to the Grand Floridian about a year and a half ago.  It was AMAZING!!!  There was a horse drawn carriage and everything!  And naturally I broke out my best tiara for the occasion.  So it should really shock no one that I'm back at Disney World with the extended family and having a wonderful time, other than having to fight to keep my pineapple float to myself.

We've been coming down here so often and for so many years that my children were all Disney pros by the time they were each 3.  They routinely stop and give adults directions and tips on how to get onto the rides fastest.  They roll their eyes when they discover that some people don't know how to work the "fast pass" system.  They tell you which characters show up for which meals at which locations, and then they tell you which days they'd like you to take them to said meals.  They know when the characters show up at particular locations around the different parks, and they also plan their days to know on which ones they will need their autograph books.  Today we were at the Magic Kingdom.  It's their favorite.  We get their early and we ride everything we can get on until MPH calls for mercy and we battle our way back through the midday crowd to get off campus to eat lunch and take a nap. They we head back in again during the late afternoon and ride some more rides!  They all have their favorites.  They've even ranked them in order, and we make sure we get to all of them.  We even have rituals involving how we get into and out of the parks.  You can't drive by the Tower of Terror sign near Hollywood Studios without everyone in the car yelling "Tower of Terror!  AIIIEEEEEEEEE!"  Don't try it.  It's not worth it.  They're like three little honey badgers and it's easier to just give in and yell than to try to pull them off you.  Because face it.  You have some rational reason why you aren't yelling like the rest of us.... but Honey Badger don't care.  Every time we bring a new au pair down here with us, we have to explain just this sort of thing.  Now that I think about it, our au pairs stare at us strangely a LOT!  This just gives them one more excuse to do it.

So anyway!  We are down in Disney and heading to Epcot tomorrow. There's a flower and garden show there this month, and surprisingly my children are thrilled.  Yes, I know. We've been here too often, and they even know the perks of the flower show!  Who'd have thought there would be for three kids younger than ten, but there are!  They love the butterfly pavilion and the Pixie Hollow area.  Me, I love the German Beer Garden where I'll be hiding while they color these cardboard teddy bears and wander around the different countries having them stamped and attaching emblems of each country to them.  Yup, if anyone needs me tomorrow, I'll be cheering on the oompah band, yodeling, and probably compulsively buying out the Japanese department store over in the Japan section.  So... ya know.  Don't wait up for me.

See ya real soon!!!

Sunday, March 11, 2012

It's Like Pulling Teeth!

My five year old, the one we call Kitten, the one that's exactly like me especially where stubborn is concerned, has just lost her first tooth.  It fell out.  And when I say "fell out," I'm not meaning that it just took a little tug to get it out or that she bit into corn on the cob and it came out when she did it.  I mean that it literally FELL OUT!  She opened her mouth, leaned over and her tooth fell into her hand.  And I am so thankful that it did that I can hardly express it!  This tooth has been driving me completely bonkers!  I think it's had a personal vendetta out against your Queen.  It's been taunting me...wobbling there in her mouth and laughing at me... I could hear it!  IT WAS AWFUL!!!

Okay, maybe I should back up here and explain a bit.  First of all, this child is stubborn... I think I might have mentioned that.  Admittedly, she got that quality from me so I shouldn't say too much about it... but I do anyway.  It's the Queen's prerogative, you know.  Anyway, she's stubborn and seriously high maintenance.  But at the same time, she's incredibly brave when she wants to be.  Two weeks ago she put on a harness, got tethered to the ceiling at Wonder Works and proceeded to run an obstacle course 15 feet off the floor that included tight rope bridges and balance beams.  She was unstoppable!  Her older sister started the course then gave up and demanded I take her back down to the ground because she was terrified, but not this kid.  We had to make her come down when her time was over, and she still took the long way around on her way back down!  This is the child I'm talking about when I now tell you that this loose tooth got the best of her and me both!

She was really excited when the tooth was first discovered to be loose.  I don't think it was the idea of having her first tooth come out so much as it was the idea of getting cash from the Tooth Fairy.  You see we've recently opened bank accounts for each of our daughters in an attempt to get them to understand economics earlier rather than later.  They each have these little debit cards with their pictures on them and they're having a great time having their own money and cards to use to spend it.  The youngest is, again, the most like me.  She derives great joy from spending her money on things she likes.  Thrifty is not in her vocabulary.  So you can see where she would focus immediately on the whole cash for teeth aspect of the situation.  So we watched it... and wiggled the tooth from time to time... and two weeks ago I figured that the tooth was ready to come out.  This was when I made the mistake.  I mentioned.... pulling it out!

To say that this child reacted badly to the concept of yanking a perfectly good and apparently still attached tooth out of her head badly is a wee bit of an understatement.  Running and screaming like a banshee and having a total melt down whenever anyone was stupid enough to raise their hand as if to touch her mouth at all.... yeah that's really a much better description.  Occasionally she would deign to allow me to extend a single finger in order to wiggle the tooth to see how loose it was, and MAN was it loose!  Eventually it was obvious that the tooth was no longer attached in the back.  Then it was obvious that the front left corner was unattached too.  In fact, this child had a tooth that was barely hanging by a thread.  It was actually lopsided in her mouth!  The new tooth was visible behind it!  She couldn't even eat except by shoving food back to her molars in order to pull some off and chew it!  This tooth was almost falling out on its own. But still she refused to allow anyone to even try to pull it.

This is when I got the idea of the century.  You see, it was driving me completely insane to not be able to pull out this wobbling and nearly unattached tooth.  I was certain she would swallow it.  She could choke on it.  I was twitching because I wanted to pull it out so badly!  I just couldn't leave well enough alone!  So I came up with the plan.  I would wait until she was asleep and THEN I would gently open her mouth, reach in and pull out the tooth.  It was genius!  She wouldn't even know!  She could be mad when she woke up but by then it would be too late! I would have that pesky tooth out already and could wave the idea of cash at her and she'd be appeased.  And so I set out to implement this stroke of sheer brilliance.  And it went incredibly well, thank you... right up to the point that I tried to stick my hand in her mouth.  You see, Kitten sleeps very soundly.  I figured that was a good thing, to be honest, but it turns out that she sleeps soundly with her mouth in the SHUT position.  And she's not good about opening it just because I whisper to her that she should in that whole subconscious tone of voice which I've always thought was sheer genius and always worked... at least it works in the movies.  Don't ask me which movies because I can't name one or anything but come on!  Who thinks this isn't a great idea?!  I ask you?! Who?!!!  (Special note to MPH... shut up.)

So one night I decided I'd had enough.  I slipped into her room to smooch on her and tell her I loved her while she was asleep, like I do every night in a very Mom loves you and non-stalker sort of way, only this time I decided it was time to pull that tooth.  I started with the whispering part.  I told her to open up. I told her I loved her.  I told her it was alright.  I told her anything I could come up with to get that jaw open and nothing worked!  So, I did what any self respecting mother would do... I tried to pry it open.  I mean, how hard could it be?!  Apparently, very hard is the answer here.  She didn't wake up but she didn't open up either.  I pried her lips apart. I tried to get my finger in between her teeth.  I finally managed to wedge her jaw open a tiny bit and proceeded to wiggle my finger in in an effort to actually grab the offending tooth.  And that, dear readers and loyal subjects, was when it happened.  My beautiful, sweet, delightful (albeit stubborn) child... bit me.  She opened her mouth for a split second and then she chomped right down on my finger.  That's when I screamed.  IT HURT!  She was shockingly strong for someone who was asleep!  And would you believe it?  In my shock, I jerked my finger back out of her mouth and didn't even manage to snag that darned tooth!  So there I sat, nursing a bite to my index finger, pouting, and staring at the sleeping angel with a tooth pretty much dangling out of her mouth.  This was not my night.  I didn't, however, try that trick again!  Even a Queen can learn a lesson every now and then.

On the plus side, I was able to get her to really wiggle the tooth herself despite the panic attacks that struck whenever pulling it was mentioned.  One night she finally tells me that she can wiggle it all the way down to her lip.  I mean that she could push it all the way forward until it was perpendicular to her gum!  I told you this thing was loose!!!!  I encouraged that!  Oh yes, I did!  Suddenly she yelled at me, "I can't get it to go back again!"  It took me a moment to figure out what that meant.  In that moment I asked her as intelligently as possible "Do what?!"  And that's when she leaned forward, put her hand in front of her mouth and her tooth fell out into her hand.  She was elated!  I was elated!  That thing was FINALLY out!  So here's to my little girl who is afraid of nothing but a loose tooth!  And here is a picture of her gap toothed smile.  She's a cutie!  To be honest though, I'm already dreading the next loose tooth because I seriously doubt it will go any better than this one.  Oh well, somebody pass the corn on the cob.

(By the way, for those of you who were lamenting the lack of a new post on Saturday night, my apologies.  The Queen was traveling that evening for a well deserved vacation and couldn't get anything in for your viewing pleasure.  Hopefully, this week will provide you with enough to make up for it.)

Friday, March 9, 2012

Facebook Has My Unicorns and Fairies (subtitled: He So Totally Wants To Be My Friend)

The Queen now has her own Facebook page!  It's Queen Of All Things Good, and you should run there and like it!... like, you know, now. Are you still here?  You shouldn't be.  You should be there.  But then, of course, you should come back here because here is good. Here rocks!  Here is da bomb!  Okay, sorry. I haven't used that expression in years but it just slipped out.  Sometimes the Queen's exuberance gets the best of her.  Deal with it.  You see, I actually need you to go like it because Facebook is an evil empire, and they're withholding some goodies from the Queen until she gets a certain number of likes.  They call it "access to insights about your activity," but we all know what that means.  Yup, you guessed it.  Unicorns!  Unicorns and Fairies! Facebook has 'em and the Queen wants 'em!  I'm even willing to share them with my loyal subjects and dear readers, so go Like the Queen and we'll work together to release the unicorns and fairies back into the wild where they belong!  Or at least I'll let them hang out at my place because I think that would be cool.

I have to admit it, though.  My foray into social networking has been an interesting experience.  I've always had a Facebook account, but usually I didn't open it except for once every few months.  I've never gotten hooked on anything like Farmville, and frankly it's always really confused me that my friends were trying to send me prize winning pigs or lumber for a new barn every time I turned on Facebook.  Let's be honest here.  If you offer me a prize winning pig for some reason, I'm going to start waiting for the mailman to come lumbering up the driveway carrying a squealing and squirming hog and that would delight me to no end!  Everyone should have a pig!  They're cute!  My friend even posted a picture of the cutest little porker I've ever seen on her Facebook today... which I know about because I'm suddenly socially connected again.  This has perks, people!  See?!

This is what I was missing on Facebook!  Who wouldn't want this little guy delivered?  A virtual version just isn't going to cut it!  But wait, what was I talking about again?  Oh yeah!  Social networking!  So I'm really kind of proud of myself here.  I've not only rejoined Facebook, but I've also learned to blog, learned to twit (not a tough skill for a lot of people I know, as I've said before), and I've created the Facebook page for the Queen!  And I've done all this with little help!  I know the Web Mistress of All Things Good is proud of me!  But there have been other things I've learned as well.  For instance, did you know that if you create a professional Facebook page, all you can do is have people "Like" you?  The whole friends thing doesn't apply.  Turns out that MPH (My Poor Husband) was NOT aware of that... so I educated him... right there on the page for everyone's enjoyment!

MPH: So it begins...

The Queen You love it.

MPH:  I can't figure out how to friend you...

The Queen:  You can't! MWAHAHAHAHAHAAA!  Actually you really can't. I set this page up as a professional page. That way it's technically separate from my personal page so I won't be overwhelmed by the mobs of fans the Queen has on my personal page since you can only have 5000 friends on FB and we both KNOW that mobs are many more than 5000, at least I'm certain that'll be the case soon... any minute now... maybe later today. So anywho! You can like me... which I know you dooooooo, but The Queen has no friends. She's above that. 

MPH:  Good.  I didn't want to be your friend anyway.

The Queen:  You so totally do.

MPH:  Okay, you got me.  I do.

Isn't he the cutest, people?  And he puts up with me... which scores him all sorts of extra credit!  Although he doesn't have twitter still and just doesn't get it.  Frankly, sometimes I don't either, but I'm easily amused so there I am.  It's @QueenOfATG if you're looking for me.  You know, if I'm feeling benevolent when I get to my required number of Likes in order to unlock the gates of greatness over at Facebook... I might just let him pet my unicorn.  But maybe not. The Queen does have her moods.

Thursday, March 8, 2012

The Issue With Cupcakes

Yes, dear readers and loyal subjects, this is the issue with cupcakes!  We may all rejoice and be merry!  Wait... what?  No! No no no!  There is no issue with cupcakes! This is the ISSUE with cupcakes.  Got it?  No?  Goodness.  Do try to follow me here.  This is the issue of our blog (And yes, I am using the royal pleural there.)... with cupcakes!  There is no issue/problem with cupcakes.  Heavens.  What were you people thinking?

You see, my love of cupcakes is so well known that many of you have graciously supplied your Queen with further information about our much loved baked goods.  These I have no compiled in order that I may expound upon their deliciousness... their convenience...their delightful nature...well, at least upon the weird things that you people have found related to them.  And frankly, the weirder the better, I always say!  I keep trying to convince MPH (My Poor Husband) of the value in that statement too. Unfortunately, he usually wanders off muttering under his breath about the time I feel compelled to bring it up.  I'm not sure what that's really all about.  But anyway, we have more important things to discuss.  Namely...

Cupcake ATM's!  Yes, the future of cupcakes is now!  They have arrived!  Cupcake ATM's... can you believe it?!  Now I see what all this Mayan 2012 business was about.  Apparently they knew!!!!  Yes, indeed!  Sprinkles, a gourmet cupcake chain with apparently about 10 locations nationally, has decided to install cupcake ATM's at their locations.  These babies will be placed outside the shop and will be available for your 24 hour cupcake dispensing pleasure!  No more will you awake at 3 am with a raging case of insomnia and think "If I could just drive to my nearest gourmet cupcake shop and get myself a devils food cupcake, I just know I could bounce off the walls for 3 more hours just from the sugar rush and then crash in the sleep of the dead as soon as my buzz wears off," without being able to act on it.  We're talking 10 locations nationally, folks!  The farthest you'd have to go would be... let's see, ten divided by fifty... no that's not it... fifty divided by ten is... FIVE! That's it!  Now you would only have to drive the distance of no more than five states and you could have said cupcake!  At least... that's if they distribute their chain equally, of course.  It's genius!  Of course, if all ten locations are in California and you're in North Carolina... well you're just screwed, people.  Unless... I'VE GOT IT!  Maybe they'll franchise one of these little beauties out to me for my house!!!  You're all welcome to come over and use my cupcake ATM.  MPH will be thrilled to pieces to see you! Thrilled, I say!  And from what I can tell, it will fit in beautifully with any decor.  At least as long as your decor looks like something out of a pastel Willie Wonka factory, because here it is.

Alas, that is not me standing at the cupcake ATM. I only wish it were because frankly, it looks delicious!  I wonder if it's one of those scratch and lick items.  I'm betting it's bubble gum flavored!  Oh the joy, the tastiness, the very cupcakeyness of this product is beyond measure.  And look!  I just created a word!  You may all go out now and use cupcakeyness in your daily conversation.  No need to thank me.  I am there for you, my subjects.  You're welcome.

So that's our first product.  The second is one that I found all by myself. Can you believe it?!  Yes, I was out shopping and minding my own business when our next cupcake product leapt in my path and screamed "I am delightful!  I am cupcake goodness! BUUUUUUUUY ME!"  That sort of thing happens to me a lot, incidentally.  So without further ado, I give you the cupcake notebook!  

This is apparently the cupcake's response to those ubiquitous "Keep Calm and Carry On" posters.  And I must say that I'm much more partial to the cupcake's suggestion!  I'll carry on AFTER I've had my cupcake, thank you!  The scary thing here is that I didn't buy this.  I'm not sure what got into me.  I'm having non-buyer's remorse now, and I may have to make a special trip back to Barnes and Nobles where I found it to remedy the situation.  Self control sucks!

Ah well. Thus ends our issue with cupcakes for this week. I do hope you've all enjoyed it.  I must run now because I've come up with the ultimate new thing and I must go patent my idea.  It's the Tiara ATM, and I'm just certain it will sweep the nation!  I mean really... we all know that you never can be sure just when you'll need your tiara.  Now to figure out how to get things things down a chute!

Oh and before I forget.  I'm leaving you with one more gift for the night.  This one is courtesy of my friend Melanie of the wet pirates fame.  This is much more my style.  Enjoy the chaos!

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

This is Eileen's Fault

The Queen has been trying to watch her diet a little more closely lately.  It hasn’t been going too badly.  It went pretty well the night the pizza place decided to starve me, in fact.  Unfortunately when left to my own devices, I can usually find some food.  Hey!  Maybe the pizza episode was MPH’s way of trying to support the whole diet initiative.  Or… it may have just been a really bad idea on his part.  Guess which one I’m voting on.  But back to my point, you see, I’ve been trying so hard to get my notorious sweet tooth under control.  And today… I lost it.

The whole thing started while I was taking a break from work, actually holding on the phone for a teleconference that my client never showed up for.  While waiting for my client I had the opportunity to talk with some of my colleagues for a bit, however.  This is always a good thing.  I swear they’re all crazy enough to make me look normal.  And ummm… if you talk to any of them and they say otherwise, they’re also all psychopathic liars!  I swear!  Would the Queen lie to you?!  I think not!!!  So we were discussing cupcakes (naturally) and drinks (yeah, that’s pretty natural too) and how MAGNIFICENT the blog is. (My colleague, Syed, really did say that and so he gets a gold star for his forehead and will be knighted by the Queen in the very near future.)  And what I found after this particular discussion was that I was awfully hungry!  So what happened, from the best I can tell, is that Eileen got me started thinking about sweets and my sweet tooth woke up and had some kind of spasm!  It wasn’t pretty, people!  I was hungry and it was hungry and it was just sort of…. Rabid!  It’s true!  So naturally, I had to run to the kitchen to find something to feed it.

It’s really a shame about this whole diet thing.  Because of it, I’ve gotten rid of most of the sweets in the house.  I now stock the house with fresh fruit and yogurt and healthy snacks.  What the hell was I thinking?!  These snacks were just NOT going to cover it!  There was no WAY a plum was going to settle down this gargantuan sweet tooth of mine.  I wanted chocolate chip cookie dough!  I wanted cupcakes!  I wanted ice cream sandwiches!  I wanted something spectacular!  And finally… I found it.

I admit that I used to do this as a kid.  My grandmother used to bake special things for me.  She used to make this amazing pound cake for me in the summers and for my birthday.  To this day it’s comfort food.  Too bad I didn’t have a pound cake.  But I had something close.  I had a box of cake mix in the cabinet.  Now you’ll remember that I did say that I was working, so obviously I didn’t have time to make a whole cake here.  I was hungry, not irresponsible.  Okay, really I’d have probably made it anyway but I have a rule.  I don’t cook.  Ever.  For any reason.  Life’s too short and most things are just too flammable.  The Queen has some skills, but cooking isn’t one of them.  So I did the next best thing.  I made cake batter!  Yes, I said it!  I made cake batter… then I ate it!  It was raw cupcake goodness!

Alright, alright. I didn’t eat ALL of it, but I did cart off a container full of it back up to my office, along with a plastic spatula because that’s what my grandmother used to give me to eat it with, and I sat my happy self back down at work and commenced to eat.  People… dear readers… loyal subjects… there is very little in the world more wonderful than raw cake batter.  Now I know about the raw eggs, and I know about the salmonella, and I know some people like to cook it, but people!!!  This was DELICIOUS! It was so delicious the whole time I was eating… until I stopped… and then… it really wasn’t so delicious anymore.  BLEH, people!  There really is such a thing as too much of a good thing, or so they tell me.  This might have been one of those times, but I will tell you that I got lucky.  My upset tummy settled down after a liter or so of water.  There was no diabetic coma, mostly because I’m not diabetic, and I finally felt better.  Yes, people, life was good.  And a little cake batter didn’t kill me… so I ate some more!  Who’s idea was this anyway?  Oh yeah, it was Eileen’s.  The woman’s a bad influence if anyone ever asks. 

Later, peeps!  I have to go wish I hadn’t eaten this second round, recover and then rally for a third!  This stuff is hard work but my sweet tooth is beaten into submission.  I’ll consider dieting again tomorrow.  Anyone want a bite before it’s gone?