tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152614362009-06-03T05:04:46.359-07:00(but probably shouldn't say out loud)Queenannoreply@blogger.comBlogger301125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-6473421895707412462009-05-12T16:45:00.000-07:002009-05-12T17:40:25.911-07:00

Dear Angel,Having a baby is a weird and wonderful thing. You wait for nearly a year, imagining just how you'll react when your little one arrives, and then of course, it's nothing like you imagined. I loved you instantly, but on instinct. After all, you were a complete stranger to me. You with your wide unblinking eyes, bald-patched head, and wrinkled skin. You were more like a little alien

Queenannoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-73298889207411250212009-04-12T07:35:00.000-07:002009-04-12T08:01:49.095-07:00

Folks are always talking about how they love their children so much they'd get run over by a train for them....or something similarly quixotic and unlikely. Since the chances of anyone ever holding Mini Q over the tracks are pretty slim, I've been thinking of ways to express how much I love my little peanut....So Mini Queenie.... I LOVE YOU ENOUGH.......to interrupt my beauty sleep at 2 am...and

Queenannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-53306359461231296772009-02-20T09:31:00.000-08:002009-02-20T13:52:28.723-08:00

Well isn't she just the PRETTIEST thing you ever-did see? (and the best accessorized at that!) Of course she is, but did you have any doubt she would be? I remind her everyday that she is indeed the prettiest little thing on earth and as such she has a responsibility to also be the the best-behaved, least-fussy child, so as to keep her Mommy pretty as well.Cause I mean to tell you, this sleep

Queenannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-296826536699563762009-02-03T14:24:00.000-08:002009-02-03T15:49:46.706-08:00

I mean to tell you, this baby nonsense takes too long! Next time I have me one of these I'm buyin' the pre-cooked variety, like my mother tried to do with the Thanksgiving turkey. (She was guilted into cookin' the thing from scratch but I will not be so foolish.) Look at all the babies in the world that need good homes. Over in Asia they practically give them away! And anyway, having a baby the

Queenannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-44485214918189480132009-01-11T09:10:00.000-08:002009-01-11T10:02:22.118-08:00

Now I'm not gettin' on any moral high-horse here, and I really don't care in what order you pass life's milestones, but I am beginning to see some rationale in the marriage-before-baby paradigm. It's not because of any antiquated notions of propriety, or because the church ladies will gossip, or even because the last name issue will be confusing and bothersome. All that crap is crap and your baby

Queenannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-31012643850687115712009-01-02T13:39:00.000-08:002009-01-05T17:06:05.469-08:00

Happy New Year friends! We're another year older, but judging from the mess I see out on the streets, we're not a heck of a lot wiser. I just don't understand how year and after year, folks can keep committing the same fashion crimes. Have you not picked up a magazine since the Reagan administration?So let's make a few New Year's Resolutions, shall we? Not those ridiculous "I resolve to go on a

Queenannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-46712074359184860502009-01-02T13:38:00.001-08:002009-01-02T13:38:40.791-08:00

Well friends, I've got some big news...about 8lbs. of news to be exact. That's right, Sweetpotato and I are having our very first TATER TOT!! Couldn't you just die!? Lord knows the combination of our genes will certainly produce the most delightful little specimen of humanity ever, but there's more...The baby is a MINI QUEENIE!!! Now you can die AND go right to heaven, cantcha? I mean 'bout

Queenannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-25049759211691957012008-12-31T12:43:00.000-08:002008-12-31T13:48:09.325-08:00

So about now, I expect all y'all are beginning your preparations for this evening's festivities: painting your nails, buffing your feet, beating your hair into some semblance of an up-do, and sausaging your bunnies into double-ply spandex in hopes of hiding the bulges in last years party dress. Well that's what I would be doing if I were participating in New Year's Eve.But I am not. I have called

Queenannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-63947775874232391142008-11-09T18:09:00.000-08:002008-11-09T18:43:41.955-08:00

My lord if that woman won't get off my behind! It's a good thing my backside has spread enough to accommodate my mother and her incessant nagging. She has been on me like a rat on a Cheeto to blog and I just can't take it anymore! Of course this is why she continues to "remind", for the rare moments when one of her children are actually nagged into submission. My brothers, having developed

Queenannoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-71384244044943696232008-05-14T06:09:00.001-07:002008-05-14T06:37:31.149-07:00

So yesterday I was just in the most foul mood, reasons unclear but hardly important anyways. And just as I'm explaining to someone how I'm on the brink of really havin' a meltdown, the clouds part, the office door opens, and there stands a delivery man holding a half-dozen cupcakes with my name on them! And suddenly, all is right with the world.I just can't express the mood elevation powers of a

Queenannoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-30611796468683231702008-04-22T05:59:00.000-07:002008-04-22T06:32:57.179-07:00

Have you missed me? Sorry darlins, but I was off on vacation with my Sweetpotato to beautiful Puerto Rico! Being a beach girl, I can just lay in the sun for hours, readin my book, sippin my cocktail and generally ignoring the world around me. My poor hubby, well he turned into a Sweetpotato French Fry inside 2 hours and had to abort the beach mission in search of shade. I can't say I really

Queenannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-39213489661688306022008-03-27T06:13:00.000-07:002008-03-27T07:24:04.042-07:00

So this weekend will be filled with boas, cocktails, and stripper poles...yes friends, I'm attending a bachelorette party!Bachelorette parties in New York are a tad different than they are down South...for example, brides don't wear Life-Saver-covered tee-shirts reading "A Buck A Suck," praise God. Up here we don't try to make our party expenses back by whoring out the bride. Not that it's all

Queenannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-3873485898154562262008-03-07T07:09:00.000-08:002008-03-07T07:26:49.781-08:00

I mean I can't hardly watch American Idol this season for all the name-dropping! Every time Randy Jackson opens his mouth it's a shower of celebs, and now Paula's joining in too. Um, being the assistant to the choreographer of the music video of the original artist has absolutely nothing to do with how well a song was performed by the 20-year-old farm boy in front of you. Why do you feel the

Queenannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-8672895735726694672008-03-06T10:15:00.000-08:002008-03-06T11:15:52.487-08:00

I asked a friend of mine a simple question the other day and by way of an answer she launched into a 10-minute saga about some ex-boyfriend and some new girlfriend and who knew what about whom and how they found out and what that meant in the grand scheme of her world. When she was through I said, "so, did you want to come to dinner tomorrow night or not," whereupon she realized she'd gone

Queenannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-53767354077089790712008-02-25T06:01:00.000-08:002008-02-25T06:51:05.675-08:00

Dear First-Time Academy Award Attendees,Perhaps you have been so busy producing your Oscar-nominated masterpieces that you have been unable to process anything going on in the rest of the world, but for your information, the Academy Awards are a dress-up event! The Brits were of course the worst offenders, they almost always are (something about the constant rain must turn the fashion-conscious

Queenannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-10261658843629220552008-02-20T17:15:00.000-08:002008-02-20T17:35:38.730-08:00

Okay, did I not make myself clear cause we got some confusion goin' on. So I'm walking behind a woman today, the coldest day in February, the dead of winter- mind you. And she's wearing some really horrific pants. I mean they are too small and poorly tailored such that they look like they've been ruched up the inseam toward the ass crack, which I might add, was clearly defined against the thin

Queenannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-72332438009212140642008-01-28T09:00:00.000-08:002008-01-28T09:20:26.319-08:00

Okay, so about that last essay... I may have gone a bit overboard with the factual liberties. Basically, I wrote that years ago, back when I had aspirations of a book about a hap-hazard aspiring young actress trying to make it in the big city and the witty, inspirational tales of her tragedies and triumphs. And while that idea has not been fully abandoned, it has certainly been pushed to the

Queenannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-7970092483547394582008-01-28T06:25:00.000-08:002008-01-28T06:46:23.037-08:00

In honor of this past weekend's festivities (Congrats to Miss Michigan), I present for you an essay on my own pageant experiences (factual liberties taken at random). Some of you have read this before, but for the humiliation alone it's worth a second pass, don't ya think? Had I the time to look for the photos I might even post a few images of the debacle, perhaps if Queen Mum ever gets her

Queenannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-82080374588827472022008-01-15T08:25:00.000-08:002008-01-15T09:10:45.383-08:00

Dear god, this writer's strike has got to end! I mean if I see one more dance-off, sing-off, act-like-a-jerk-off shows on prime time, I'm gonna stab my own self in the eye!Whatever these writers want, just give it to them! At this point, the networks have got to have lost the money the writers want in advertising revenue, so just end it already. You're talking about a television wasteland the

Queenannoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-83485578042728445852008-01-08T06:49:00.000-08:002008-01-09T06:39:51.095-08:00

Now I don't mean this like the whole "men are dogs because they sniff around everyone's crotch and do you wrong and leave you" kinda stuff. I am making a serious statement based on empirical evidence.For example:Saturday night, Sweetpotato and I were heading out, leaving a very sad puppy dog behind in the apartment. Right before we left, SP threw her a big ol' steak bone and we snuck out the

Queenannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-74090483721869718512007-12-10T16:23:00.000-08:002007-12-10T18:39:52.948-08:00

You know, in the year and 2 months that Sweetpotato has been married to me, he has sent hundreds- literally hundreds- of thank you notes, dozens of birthday cards and quite a few baby gifts, wedding presents, and get well flower arrangements. And somehow, he has managed to sign not a-one. When you consider that in the previous 32 years of his life he had not written a single thank you note, you

Queenannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-606908165355853992007-11-26T16:59:00.000-08:002007-11-26T17:23:43.375-08:00

Like that hair product commercial of the late 80's, I'm tossing my tresses about in the smug satisfaction of knowing that as of November 25th I am 95% done with my Christmas shopping!!And not only that, I have written, addressed and stamped with custom-made stamps of my puppy (gag, I know) 40 Christmas cards.Now, typically I don't consider myself an overly organized person. Not a disaster, not a

Queenannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-83156307886653997612007-11-21T06:15:00.000-08:002007-11-21T06:36:36.180-08:00

Last night I really outdid myself. I mean I prepared a meal for my Sweetpotato that I thought only my mother had mastered- sloppy joes, oven-baked freezer fries and canned pork-n-beans. It was truly a masterpiece.Of course, if my mother had been plating the food, there would have been a dollop of plain applesauce with a dash of cinnamon oozing through the plate and sogging up the bun. You know

Queenannoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-85189732308959873212007-10-31T07:38:00.000-07:002007-10-31T08:14:20.673-07:00

The scary thing about Halloween in New York City is that you're never quite sure if folks are in costume or if they just be cra-zy. This morning, for instance, I saw a grown-ass man walking down the street in a diaper and baby bonnet. Now of course this was a costume, but at 8:30 in the morning it was still a bit odd. But then because it was New York, no one even looked twice at this 6-

Queenannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15261436.post-12848084303322584572007-10-29T08:46:00.000-07:002007-10-29T09:45:46.555-07:00

Just last week Sweetpotato and I celebrated our first anniversary with a trip to The Big Easy, and what a luurvley trip it was. New Orleans is the kind of place where you can do nothing but eat, drink and sleep and feel good about it. I mean there are tours to take and sights to see, if you're into that sort of thing, but we're more "as seen from your bar stool" kinda folks.Now the one thing that

Queenannoreply@blogger.com1