I have a "friend"...

Don't really click here, this picture really can't do a lot for you.

No, seriously, she really is a friend and not me. What I'm about to talk about does not have anything to do with me - other than me having to listen to my "friend" talk about her dilema for a while now.

So, my "friend" (no seriously, I'm not talking about me) has been dating this guy for a while now (see, I told you I'm not talking about me) and he's older, but only like 41. This would be a big deal if like she was 24, but she's a little (I mean she's not old or anything - she's just not 21) closer to his age. Anywho - he refuses to just LET HIS HAIR GO. It doesn't even look that good. I've seen it. He looks like an old man, desprately clinging to his youth. Disgusting.

It's gross when a man spends more time fixing his hair than I do. I spend 15 minutes TOPS fixing my hair and no man who isn't gay should spend more than me. If you do, there's something wrong with you. Which brings me to my "friend." So, she's been dating this guy for a while, right? And he takes propecia. For his hair. Which doesn't really look good anyway.

If he had hair that was worth sparing, it wouldn't be so bad, but he doesn't and what's more, Propecia is clinically proven to turn men into eunuchs. That's right, men. Eunuchs.

He looks totally normal and hot, but he's a complete eunuch.

Being a eunuch isn't so bad if you're in charge of the King's Harem, but if your dating someone seriously, I GUARANTEE that your girl would rather you lose ALL your hair than you be a eunuch. Promise.

S0, to my "friend" and all the other women in the world who are trying to make it work with their eunuchs, I say lose him for a bald man! You'll probably be A LOT more...how shall I put this....satisfied.

Why Letting My Ex-boyfriend Wash My Car IS NOT WRONG

From some of the reactions to one of the questions in my last blog entry, it has come to my attention that some of you think that accepting my Italian ex-boyfriend's offer to detail and wax my car is, wrong "on so many levels." I feel like this needs to be addressed.

I don't think that I need to remind anybody that he totally didn't deserve me. Also, we ended our relationship on good terms. We've kept in constant contact since the break up! If he wants to wash and wax my car, then I don't want to stop the boy!!

I know what you're all saying, "Queen, it's obvious that he wants more from you!!" Pish posh!!! You obviously don't know my Italian ex-boyfriend! He has the sex drive of a one-eyed sloth. I know. I dated him for 2 1/2 years. 2 1/2 YEARS!!!!!!! I think I know what my Italian ex-boyfriend wants by now. Also, Italian ex-boyfriend was not a very complex fellow. What you see is what you get with Italian ex-boyfriend, which isn't a lot, but at least he doesn't pretend to be something he's not.

So, to all of you who think that his waxing my car is some elaborate plot to regain my love, you are sadly mistaken! He didn't want my love to begin with - I MADE HIM TAKE IT!!! (He's always been kind of week.)

Also, I've suspected for a long time that he was actually in love with my car (which, by the way is hott!), so really when you think about it, I'm doing HIM a favor.

It is finished...

So, where have I been? The answer: swimming in a pool of exhaustion.

The mural is finished. It's not bad, so that's good. But now, I'm spent. SPENT!!! Keep in mind, that for the past 3 weeks, I've gotten 6 hours of sleep a night - TOPS. And there's still stuff to do!

Here it is in all its glory:

I haven't quite figured out how I'm going to get the mural OUT of my house and to the gala...but I'm sure it will all work itself out...right? Right?!

To deal with all of this stress in a healthy way, I've been really trying my best to drink a lot more alcohol. You know - to thin the blood. Don't want my blood to get too thick!! That would really stress me out even more! However, I keep waking up with a morning headache...I wonder if it's in any way connected with my alcohol consumption. Nah, it's probably just allergies.

In other news, T.O. is still far, far away, but I have not lost hope!!! Also, I still let my ex-boyfriend - the Italian one - wax my car. Is that wrong?

Queen III, the socialite??

Forky once commented to me, "Queen III, I don't know who you most aspire to emulate: Auntie Mame or Belle Poitrine."
This got me to thinking, which one do I most aspire to be? At the time, I thought, well obviously I'm Belle Poitrine (translated: Beautiful Chest), set to do anything to launch me into stardom. In patricular, exposing my ample cleavage at at any time that seemed convenient...to me. But somewhere along the way, I got distracted by doing good works. Also, I had to get a real job, which left less time and energy to devote to exposing my cleavage in the name of networking.

I became a school teacher. (I know, I can't believe it either.) I joined a church and even TITHED. I became a card-carrying...wait for it...Junior Leaguer. That's right. A JUNIOR-LEAGUER. I'm not ashamed of it, however, I also don't wear a Junior League t-shirt to the grocery store, if you know what I mean. But, some of my fellow Junior-Leagers have been impressed with my work in the league. Unlike some other Leaguers, I joined the league to actually help out in the community and do my share. (What?!) So, I keep being asked to do stuff--increasingly important stuff. Of couse I say yes. I mean, I love attention, so I can't say no(...hmmm...sounds a bit like my dating life, but I digress)! I've been committing and committing and doing lots and lots of things. Currently, I'm working on an 8'x8' mural for a charity gala. At first, it was no big deal. Just some little ol' gala. Everybody has 'em! Probably nobody will even bother to come!

And I was right, if you consider Ross and Margot Perot as nobody. I know that we've all made our fair share of fun of ol' Ross. But when Ross shows up, everybody else in Everycity shows up. Everbody. Including the press. Here is where I start to get a little hyper. The mural is not all that I'm in charge of for this shin-dig! They found out I was a theatre major and put me in charge of all the "big" stuff, meaning everything BUT the table decorations. Okay, okay. So, no pressure or anything, but I'm painting a mural that I don't want for anyone to think is crappy and I'm in charge of making everything look good. If it doesn't look good, maybe no one will notice...oh...but wait....the press will be there...and there'll be...pictures. (AKA documentation of possible complete failure) Oh, and don't forget, Margot's on the board of the Everycity Museum of Art. No pressure.

So, I was discussing this with a friend just the other day and he just wasn't GETTING it. And in my efforts to try and make him understand, I said this:
"Don't you understand?!! This is monumentally important! This is my FIRST SOCIALITE EVENT!!!!!!"

[Insert vinyl record scratch here.]

What did I just say?!!! Did I just use the word socialite in reference to myself??!! Oh, okay. I see what this is really about.

Let's do the math:
aspiring socialite + attention whore + now happily single + erratic dating behaviour + my little patrick (taraji) + progressive views on raising children - having absolutely no money (but if I did I would be fabulous) = ALMOST AUNTIE MAME

Somewhere along the way, I lost focus and decided that the exploitation of my chest as a way to reach fame and fortune was not the way to go...but I guess it's never too late.

Do you think ol' Ross is a boob man?

Tom Cruise IS nuts!

I've been visiting this site forEVER, but I don't know how I stumbled across it. I, for some strange reason, haven't visited it in a while and am sad to say I've missed a lot. But, I've rediscovered my one true love and now I hope all of you will fall in love with it as well! Check it out: www.tomcruiseisnuts.com No, seriously, check it out!

Oh, silly, silly, Queen III....

What the hell is my problem?! It turns out that the horribly tragic relationship I had in college--you all know the one--involving a certain young man who greatly resembled Matt Damon, is choosing to repeat itself in a milder, less-gay way. Oh, what am I to do? Am I so gullable that I take everything at face value, or do I know the truth and forge ahead trying to claim blissful ignorance?

Sadly, I fear it is the latter. Like Anne Frank (who, by the way I resemble when my eyebrows are not waxed), I tragically think the best of everyone and believe down to my pathetic little core that mankind is really good, despite the horrible things it does. Whatev. I'm an idiot.

My ex-boyfriend, the latest one, is a scoundrel, who is unfortunately headed down the same path as his loser, craptastic father. I only wish there was something I could do or say to stop him. But there is nothing. This all wouldn't be making me so disgruntled if he didn't have a 9 year-old daughter. I'm sick with the thought of her hopeless future if he doesn't get his ridiculous life in order. Just another child, born out of wedlock and into a web of deceit and irresponsiblility. Sigh.

And just like the tragic relationship that we all know a little too much about involving the Matt Damon look-alike, I really believed that deep down, he was a good person. Alas!!! I set myself up for failure and heartache...almost as if I'm looking for it....almost...as if...I WANT to be Tess of the D'Ubervilles!! Hmmm......I probably need to be psycho-analyzed.

In other news, my dog is still preposterously cute and I still haven't touched T.O. But, I move ever foward in hopes of all my dreams coming true! (Someday, T.O., someday.)

Still I say, there's a way for us...

I've made a huge mistake...

They're all I come in contact with lately.


Okay, so at the time, it seemed like a good idea. And really, what else was I suppossed to do?! I mean, I just broke up with what's-his-face and I was mopey. I needed something to boost my self-esteem. All I wanted was uninvolved, shallow dating experiences where I didn't have to pay for anything! Is that too much to ask?! That's all I wanted.

But what I intended as a meaningless, capricious jaunt has turned into something far worse.

You see, I'm enjoying my freedom right now. I don't want to be tied down to yet another hopelessly doomed relationship. I have had a boyfriend of some sort for about 4 years straight and I'm tired. Boyfriends are work. I don't want anymore work! I just want fun - good, old-fashioned, shallow FUN. I don't want commitment or meaning or feelings or marriage or any of that junk. I'm tired and I need a break. But, I do need free food and flattery. Thus, online dating. It seems the logical choice, doesn't it?!

However, it is apparently the truth universal, that when a girl doesn't want commitment, a guy will fall all over her in desperation, begging, pleading even, for her to be his wife. WTF?!!!! All I wanted was some fun in the sun! Now, I have to constantly deal with desperate men hoping that if they hold on just long enough, I'll come around and love them. Men don't get to do this!! That's what women do! Women are the ones who get to be clingy and desperate and I consider it one of my rights as a woman! If men start to get clingy and desperate, won't the world fall in on itself? Won't crazy things start to happen like in the twilight zone or something?!

My point is, I'm tired. Men, hear me clearly: I don't love you! I don't want to be in love with you! I don't want to be your girlfriend! No, you can't stay over! No, you can't sleep with me! NO! I don't want to marry you! And for the love of everything good and holy, STOP TEXT MESSAGING ME!!!! I detest text messages.

Too bad I pre-paid for three month of this mess. I've made a huge mistake.

Addendum: If this man were desperate for me, I'd at least allow him to text message me...and entertain thoughts of marrying me...but that's it! I swear!

Jury Duty

Gafaw! An obligation, maybe...but an honor? That's a bit of a stretch!

How do I hate Jury Duty? Let me count the ways...

I had jury duty ALL last week. It was toture! Aside from the fact that I had to turn in my cellphone at security and that I had zero access to the internet all day, I had to sit and listen to lawyers talk.

You think that they would make lawyers take at least ONE or TWO classes on how to make things interesting. How dissapointing it all was!! I kept critiquing the lawyers' presentations, like, they could have delivered that this way and it would have been soooo much better. But, whatev.

I had to listen to this mess from 9 to 5 every day. The horror! It wouldn't have been so bad if it was just some boring ol' little case. But, no. Naturally I would be picked to serve on the jury for a Federal Criminal Case!! For a cocaine dealer and his affiliation with a very, very dangerous prison gang.

Anyway, it was all very scary as they piled up the evidence of AK-47s, Colt-45s, and kilos of Cocaine on the floor. I'm mean I've seen some stuff - even dated a small-time drug dealer or two, but NEVER have I seen Scarface on trial! It was crazy!

We convicted him, but believe me, if there was anyway I could have avoided it, I would have. Apparently, his unconvicted brother's name is Bone Crusher. Bone Crusher was there every day and got a pretty good look at me...

All I have to say is that next time I'm summoned for Jury Duty I'm just gonna say crazy stuff, like: "I deal drugs!" or "My dad's in the Mexican Mafia!" or "I'm all for slavery!" or "Women don't need any rights!"

Whatever it is, it'll be crazy, and will most definetly prevent me from serving on any jury ever again.