"Queen High Mistress of the Universe...? Well someone's got their fancy pants on..."If you must know, Queen's are expected to wear fancy pants. For the record, they're called knickers. The rest of you only need worry about having clean underwear on in case you have an accident and need to go to the hospital - boo-hoo for you!
Heavy is the head that wears the crown... but ruffle clad is the bum. It's in the rules.
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Even though the Queen thing was my own idea, people stopped arguing with me long ago. Now they simply nod and smile... 'yes, you are the Queen High Mistress of the Universe,' they say as they slowly back away in deference to my royalnesstiality.
I find myself truly humbled at these delightful and spontaneous gestures of respect, so I always make sure to 'p'shaw' and blush attractively. This catches people off guard as most of them expect a self-proclaimed monarch to be standoffish and self-absorbed. People like me a little extra because I'm a surprise.
*ahem* But let's talk more about me...
Who is the Queen?
The truth is, I'm really not sure anymore. I used to identify myself by my job... "I'm a budget analyst for a contractor at NASA..." Back then I was incredibly boring, had two cats and no romance in my life.
Now that I have no official job, I realize there has to be more to life than a job title (else I would not exist, but I receive bills in the mail addressed to me so I know that I must)...
And then I realized I do have a job! I am Queen High Mistress of the Universe, a job with innumerous responsibilities - responsibilities too innumerous to list!
Problem is, there are so few benefits to being a Queen nowadays. It is absolutely useless on a credit app. And no one brings me sheep. No one brings me potatoes. I could really use some kind of monthly stipend to keep myself in fresh knickers, but the people of my kingdom do not provide me with this.
Selfish people.
It's too bad money doesn't grow on trees... I would plant an orchard of money trees - well, I would have my serfs plant the orchard - and then I would have my serfs collect the money for me. And then I would throw the money on the bed and roll around in it. Naked. Because my money was fresh off the money tree. Unsullied but not laundered.
But I digress...
After living in the same 10 mile radius for 40 years, I got married and moved 872 miles away to a small town in Tennessee. The sign says there are 800'ish people here but I think 200 of them died of boredom, another 100 succumbed to meth * and a further 75 were eaten by ticks. The rest, I think, are zombies.
* Fun fact: The creek by our house is a meeting spot where you can buy drugs. Awesome, right? I didn't think so either... Learned that today. Not because I buy drugs, mind you, but because everyone knows everything that goes on here. Except for the Queen. (sigh)
That said, I love Tennessee. Texas is a great state and the Queen will always be proud to have been conceived there, but Tennessee is awe-inspiring. Every day I look around at the hills, creeks, all the trees and rocky outcroppings and I think, "I can't believe I live here!" It's enchantingly beautiful. Even when it hits -10F in the winter, then the ice is enchantingly beautiful... when seen from afar. It's not so beautiful when you fall ass over tea kettle down the hill.
Random story:
Tonight I watched Lip Sync Battle, which is inexplicably entertaining... the whole concept of watching someone else pretend to sing a song really doesn't make sense to my logical side. But I rarely pay attention to my logical side.
Anyway, the battle was between Deion Sanders and Justin Bieber... Justin Bieber is hilarious, I didn't want to like him but I find that I do. So I admitted this on Facebook, noting that a little piece of my soul died in the process.
My friend, Queen Mary, clever minx that she is, inquired what my horcrux was. I told her it was the wine I was drinking. I asked if I should leave the glass unwashed or if it was okay to clean it? She said no, don't wash it - a little piece of my soul might still be in there. I decided immediately to transfer a tiny piece of my soul to all of my dinnerware (and perhaps some of the laundry, too)... the Queen does not like chores.
Speaking of which, I was all aflutter this afternoon because it was time to mow the castle quadrangle. What fun! A frolicking adventure in the weeds, with insects who besieged the Queen's shapely calves (rude!) and the noxious smell of gasoline.
Enough of this nonsense, what does the Queen have in store for readers of the royal blog?
hahaha, more nonsense...?
Don't let the Justin Bieber anomaly fool you - the Queen has tremendously good taste and her interests vary widely. I am partial to:
- cooking
- books
- gardening
- moo cows
- movies
- music
- photography
- spreadsheets
- Harley Quinn
- puppy dogs
- rainbows, and
- unicorns
Yes, the Queen loves all of these things and so should you. And if you do, then you may enjoy the royal blog.
Well... it is time for the Queen needs to get her five minutes of beauty rest. Goodnight dear kingdom... good night...
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