2005-12-14 @ 12:54 a.m.
I mean, who doesnít like getting gifts, right? And Iíve been getting a whole slew of them recently from a gift certificate I had received from Amazon.com. And then my friend down in Manhattan sent me several packages. And then my friend out in California had just sent me a subscription to Readerís Digest. Huh? ok. That was nice of her. So its been an extraordinarily busy jog down to the mailboxes the last couple of weeks, but I pretty much thought it was over. Kinda like YAY ITS CHRISTMAS...whee! Moving on.
But then yesterday there was a big square box sitting on top of our mailboxes. I almost didnít even look at it. Although, I have to say, Iíve almost conditioned myself into thinking that all the packages that arrive here are now mine...mine...MINE!!!!!!! So I did glance at it and sure enough, it did say my name, so I took it upstairs very quickly (it was only about 12 degrees out) and tore it open, dropping packing popcorn all over for Guardcat to go all kerflewie over. And there it was....in all its glittery, sparkly, rhinestoney splendor. A tiara with clear and blue stones, which of course, immediately had me thinking....WTF?
But of course, I knew who it was from. The only chick I know who wears only a tiara when she dusting her stockwhips...the everlovely and extraordinarily decadent Hissandtell. We had just been chatting via e-mails, about tiaras, as girls often do, and then voila, there was a tiara, sitting in a box, next to the microwave.
Naturally, tiaras are made to be worn, so Guardcat and I had to throw together a little impromptu coronation ceremony. First of all, I had to take off my beloved black beret and John Lennon glasses. I really should have taken off everything since I looked like, what ďAĒ referred to me today as....Ēa hipsterĒ. But since I loaned my $57,000 coronation ball gown to that bitch Camilla Parker Bowles and she gave it back to me with a very suspect (cough) Royal stain and my glass slippers have been hopelessly lost since my last date in 1987, I thought it would be better if I just wore what I normally wear -- black slacks, black sweater, black bra, black boots, black socks. What? Are you waiting for the color of my underwear? Lets just say flesh tone and keep it at that.
I did want to make some kind of announcement to the press. Maybe call CNN. Or MSNBC. Or maybe Doppler the Weather Cat. Somebody had to be told, because this was BIG FRICKINí NEWS, ya know...BIG NEWS!
Voiceover: ďHello, control room. Can you insert the graphic please? Whatís that? The graphic generator is malfunctioning?Ē
Well, maybe its just as well, since I kind of look like one of the Monty Python guys dressed up like the Queen Mother with my new tiara on. But I guess it was inevidible. Me being elected Queen and all. Its either me being delusional or the fact that I now have my very own tiara. It could be a little bit of both actually. But as long as Iím queen, at least in my own mind, and the fact that I now own a tiara, I have decided that I will enact a few queenly decree thingies before Iím overthrown by the peasants in the Village, because you know how the peasants are...always grumpy if they canít get to their Starbucks before work....anyways....
First on the agenda...
The interview process was pretty easy actually. I didnít have social anxiety in those days. Boys were crazy about me. I was the star of the school newspaper. I played the piano for both the choral groups and all the theatre productions. Did I mention the boys were crazy about me? Oh yeah, I did. heh. Anyways, I made everyone laugh during the interview. I was a wittykitty even in those days. witty and cute. A killer combination.
But unfortunately, I had one fatal flaw for a beauty contestant. I was too bright intellectually. Thatís not to say that ALL beauty queens are stupid, its just that all my accomplishments at school were academic and creative. I had zero school spirit. I hated school sports. In the four years I was in high school, I never went to one football game, one basketball game, one wrestling match, or one track meet. I donít even know if we had any other kinds of sports at our school. Because I was off writing for the school newspaper and doing school plays and being selected for Whoís Who in American High Schools. I hated pep rallies. I thought they were stupid. And my best friend was the school mascot. She had to ran around football games with a massive paper mache lionís head on her head. How she never sustained neck injuries, I'll never know.
Needless to say, I was NOT selected as an Apple Blossom Queen candidate, and you must know, that if I had been, I would have definitely said that I wanted nothing more than ďWorld PeaceĒ. But alas, my dream of walking onstage in Sebastopol with a tiara on my head, with all its huge responsibilities, like standing placidly for photo ops at ribbon cuttings at banks, shaking hands with winners of coloring contests, waving from the Apple Blossom Parade float and of course, having my picture on the front page of the Sebastopol Times newspaper shaking hands with the old racist editor I used to write for Ernest Joiner (he used to French kiss his poodle. Honest to God!), never came to fruition.
So I am now just the Queen of my own domain. And I didnít have to jump through any hoops or sleep with any judges for my tiara. I just had to stand at the edge of the kingdom that is diaryland and let people show me, that I am capable of living a life where even food pantry girls can walk with their heads held high. Thanks Hiss. You're a real sweetie! XOX
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty