Wanna Win a Flip? The Video Boss & Patina Soul

Yeah, so do I. I only wish I had one to give away. Ok, so I really wish I had one of my own to tell you about.

Since I don't have one - or have one to give away - here's the next best thing: I know someone who does. His name is Nate Hines and he runs an interesting blog. All you have to do to enter is click on the picture of the Flip below, and enter. What could be easier??

By clicking on one of my links to enter, you're also giving me another chance to win. He's actually giving away two Flips (one to a random winner and one to the person who has the most referral entries)...and I would actually flip to get one. Seriously. You help me to win the second Flip by clicking on my link, and once I receive the Flip, I will post a video of me flipping. Just for your enjoyment. (And enjoyable it will be, since I haven't done a flip in at least 20-25 years!)

Once you've entered, you'll be tempted to stick around Nate's site and check things out. Nate has some great articles on his site - I learned what ThumbVu is. If you're a website owner or blogger, you should be interested in it, too. He also gives you some tips on how to "Promote on Facebook". I like that he does this in video format. 

I've been taking some classes from Andy Jenkins (The Video Boss) about why video gets more viewers, completes more sales, etc. His newest video classes focus on helping you to make your own video - and each session he does is jam-packed with information.

So there ya have it - my two PSAs for the week. You're sure to be the court jester if you don't enter to win Nate's Flip Video. What are you waiting for? Go to Nate's site and enter. Then, when you have a few uninterrupted minutes and want to absorb some fabulous information (in an entertaining way, no less!), head over to Andy's site (The Video Boss) and learn why "Video GETS MORE Money than ANYTHING". I'm usually not into stuff like that at all - but Andy makes some great points and really is entertaining. (Not to mention I think he's kinda hot, too.)

And one more quick note...have you been to Patina Soul? What a blog!! Not only is this blog gorgeous, but there is a massive giveaway going on. You have to act quick, tho - it ends tonight. I'm sorry! I just found out about it like 2 minutes ago - but it's too good not to pass on to you lovelies.

Thank you for all your well wishes about Hive Girl. She has almost morphed back into the Princess. I'm still on pins and needles - but her breathing is under much better control. The hives are obnoxious (she was diagnosed with chronic urticaria) - but not life-threatening. I'll post more about the condition in the future.

I actually have several exciting new things to tell you all about...and I will - very, very soon. Promise.

xx,

Is This the Apocalypse?

Photo taken as I wrote this post

Since Friday night:

Benadryl - every four hours. Around the clock.

Hydroxyzine - a prescription antihistamine. Twice/day. On a dose higher than given to adults because it knocks people out. She has no effects.

Prednisone - a dose high enough to make her doctors worry she could suffer long term effects. Twice/day.

Albuterol - three times/day. Also, every 4 hours as needed for breathing problems.

Advair - twice daily.

Epi-pen - as needed.

We. Still. Have. Hives.

Where - on that list of medications - is xanax for me??

Although I'm not sure which, I am sure this is going to kill one of us.

xx,

Google Thinks The Queen Sucks

Right off the bat, let me say I'm confused.

I looked back at my blog, and I have well over 100 comments. (I have many more than 100, but I'm too lazy to count them all.) On around 250 posts. According to Google Analytics though, I suck. And I'm awful lonely.

I've checked my stuff on GAG (Google Analytics Gauge) several times over the years. I never get any information. There is always some issue with my blog that prevents GAG from reporting. I always dutifully fix whatever issue GAG claims, only to remember to return a few months later and find another issue. This has been my relationship with GAG.

 

After reading Nanny Goats in Panties today, I was curious what some of the search terms are that people use to find my blog. I turned to my trusted nemesis GAG to figure it out.

Apparently, according to the figures displayed (rather largely) by GAG, my blog has enjoyed a sudden popularity, although it's a bit confusing when looking at the raw data. You see, to this point The Queen Speaks (um, the name of the blog you're currently on) has never had a visitor. Ever. My statistics have remained at zero. They haven't budged. It has been the one thing I could count on in life.

Surprise! While checking GAG this morning, I was shocked. Stunned. Amazed. The Queen Speaks (that's the blog you're on, remember?) has enjoyed a sudden surge in visitors. This little ol' blog has gone from a record low and high of zero, to SEVENTY-SEVEN! I'm not kidding...look:

Isn't that impressive? Just don't look too closely at the top half of the screen shot - it says all my stats remain at zero. I was very excited by this news. It was like learning all the voices I hear aren't coming (only) from my head. Until I looked at this page:

How can this be? I just had a surge in people finding my blog - a whole 77 of them! How can I be down 100% - when I started with nothing? Wouldn't I have to remain at nothing - or get less than 0 visitors - to fall 100%?

I'm so confused. I don't know if I should have 77 thank you notes engraved, or bring back the black veil in anticipation of my 100% drop.

On a side note: I apologize for not responding to comments and generally being rude lately. Remember how bad Hive Girl was? Of course not - I had no readers. (Does that mean I also made up the comments?) The reaction she had when I originally posted was nothing compared to the latest go 'round.

As of Friday, she went into full anaphylactic shock. She almost died. We now have an epi-pen that she cannot go anywhere without. We are going to see an allergist/immunologist this morning - I will post more about it tomorrow - but please keep your fingers crossed we figure this out. Even with the epi-pen, there aren't any guarantees. I'm pretty unflappable - just look at my children. They scare me but haven't run me off...yet. However, I am really scared about Hive Girl's condition.

xx,

Ol' Saggy Britches

Yes, he actually thinks he looks good.

Then again, this is the same boy who wears droopy drawers.

 What else can I say??

xx,

Hive Girl, Girl Scout Cookies & Good People

I've been MIA for several days - which is unfortunate since I have news about Photobucket to share with you. That will have to wait for now, since I'm still caring for Hive Girl, formerly known as the Princess.

Her hives were so bad they were in her esophagus - so on top of being extremely itchy, she was throwing up like crazy. Poor, pitiful thing! Although she's seen some great doctors about this, I think we're going to go in a different direction. The dermatologist thinks the outbreak is due to an allergy. She was tested for allergies when she was little, after she choked on a peanut. The peanut got lodged in her main bronchus, which was removed endoscopically at the hospital. Her PCP thought the incident may cause a nut allergy, so we had her tested. Good thing the tests were negative - can you imagine her being surrounded by all these "nuts" (brothers, uncle, etc) if she were allergic?!?

I'm going to make an appointment with an allergist. Maybe they can figure out what's causing this. It's getting scary - the girl who has a sensitive immune system and serious asthma - is now having trouble breathing when she has these "attacks". Her upper lip and fingertips turned cyanotic (blue from lack of oxygen) for several long minutes during this attack.

On an interesting and happy note, one of her friends from school adopted a little Haitian girl. They've been in the adoption process for awhile - and everything was sped up due to the catastrophic earthquake.

It's also Girl Scout Cookie Time. Since Hive Girl has been so sick, she hasn't been able to sell cookies like she wanted to. If you live in an area where you can't get cookies - and want some - please let me know. I will pay shipping on all cookies, so you just pay the box price of $3.25. Please email me for information.

Enjoy your week!!

xx,

Looking for a Life - Richard Heene Should Do Same

This is what the Princess and I did to entertain ourselves last night. I need to get out more. Or get a life.

I think this is how I began...before kids.

Don't judge me.

 

 After the first.

 

After the second.

 

 A permanent look - after the third was born.

 

On a regular day.

You're judging again.

 

 By 6 o'clock - any evening of the week.

And speaking of the third...

 

I suggested the Princess keep this picture so she knows how to wear her hair for prom.

She claims styles may change in the six years that will pass before she becomes a junior.

 

How could that be possible?

The hair, when combined with her natural dance style - looking like an Egyptian here -

couldn't possibly go out of style.

Hey - the Bangles made it happen.

Oh - and Richard Heene? Shut the hell up. Please.

 
 xx,

The White Flag of Surrender (Made of Underwear)

If you want to feel old and out-of-touch, take a teenage boy shopping for pants.

I am waving the white flag of surrender. Made of tighty-whities.

You see, I have been jean shopping for my sixteen year old son lately. It's taken us over a month to find something I will pay for. And don't make me want to disown him. Or run up behind him and yank the saggy butt part of his jeans down with one (not so) wild jerk.

What is up with kids? Why does my son find it necessary to let everyone in the universe see his underwear?? He would die if he knew I told you all he wears boxer-briefs...but he has no problem letting the state of Colorado know...he doesn't even care that everyone knows what color they are.

(In order to help some of you other parents rank a little higher on the - unwritten and constantly changing - "cool scale" than I do...apparently, singing "I see London, I see France, I see the mutant's under pants...Might be yellow, might be pink, all I know is they sure do stink!" is not funny to a sixteen year old man-boy. Especially when sung - kind of loudly - in front of his friends...by his decidedly uncool mother. They don't think it's funny even when they're on the phone.)

I threatened to wear my pants pulled down around my knees. Yep, I threatened to "sag". His face froze, contorted in fear, the likes of which I don't recall ever having seen before. Except the time I tried to make conversation with some girl he liked, when she called while he was out getting the mail.When he walked back into the house and found out who I was talking to, you could actually feel the earth stop rotating for a moment. It was like the sound of crickets chirping was some how jacked up by the universe - because that was the only sound audible for several long seconds, while (I assume) he was swallowing his heart back into his chest.

Back to my threat to "sag". I told him I would pull my jeans down around my knees - and go out in public like that. Probably on a day when he would be surrounded by friends. And that I would wear my "mom underwear" - you know, the really hideous pair every woman has shoved to the back of their drawer, that they just can't throw away in case they need it on laundry day or something, but that they never actually wear.

He didn't know this was just an empty threat. That I could never get my pants pulled down like that (because the waist isn't big enough - or isn't big enough to fit like that), and that I would never intentionally embarrass myself like that. (I do well enough embarrassing myself when I don't intend to - I really don't need to work at it.) But that's a mom's prerogative...to occasionally make up crazy things. Things just insane enough to keep her children wondering how imbalanced she actually is. Constantly keeping the 'beasts wondering just how beserk I am is one of my survival skills.

I don't even know how the man-boy can walk. He's gone through countless belts because they don't stretch when he sits down - and they are right around his bum, which increases in girth when you go from standing to sitting. There have been many times when he's walking somewhere, and we all have to stop and wait because he's got to reach down and grab his pants in order to keep them up. Many other times, he's lost them completely - his hands will be full and he'll be waddling along, pants down around his ankles. He's not the most coordinated child, either (must get that from his mom) - and the ankle drooping pants only work against him, to trip him up. Yet he's lost on why he would trip with his pants like that. Just as he's lost when he is unable to find "his size" in most stores. I always try to look surprised that 44x30 isn't a common size.

I'm sure in reality he probably wears a 38x36. Which, for the record, I've had him try on. He claims he can't get them over his thighs. Who am I to argue? I'm just the mom. I suppose I should let up since I'm not the one wearing them. Then again, I am the one subjected to seeing his constant "plumber's butt".

I may have given you the impression this is how he only wears jeans, which would be false. He also wears his Dockers like this, which caused a "discussion" every morning before he left for work (when he was working). Or when we're going to church. Or anywhere else. Which is what finally did me in.

I think I may try sagging - if only in my own home. (Remember, I want them to wonder about my sanity and just how far I'll go with things - not actually be fitted for a straight jacket. Again.) I've decided it really doesn't matter where I sag, it's the sagging in general that will mortify my offspring - and hopefully make them question my sanity unlike they ever have in the past. I'm thinking the idea of seeing a parent sag just may be perturbing enough to get my point across. I've already contemplated the long term results of such an action, and my conclusion is the same as it usually is...the 'beasts will already be in therapy blaming me for everything anyway, why not just add this to the list? I can always deny it later.

Maybe this would be taking it too far? I mean, it could seriously damage them to see their mom in her undies - whether I'm wearing pants around my knees or not. I don't want to do something akin to walking in on your grandma/grandpa while they're in the shower, changing clothes, or worse - getting amongst it. The 'beasts drive me nuts - but I do love them and don't want to damage their psyche. At least not in some really awful way that will never go away. I want to prove my point and get him to stop sagging, but I don't want to do something that would equal seeing your parents involved in some truly obnoxious incident on COPS, being set up on a blind date with your mom/dad, or accidentally hitting the wrong speed dial number on your phone only to "drunk dial" your grandparents.

Hmmm now that I really think about it, maybe I should contact my friend JD, who does all sorts of amusing things. She has a much better body than I do (just check out her nekkid post), and would probably do it - just so I don't have to.

xx,

Wix's Halloween Gift

In a surprising (semi) continuation of yesterday's post, look what I found last night...

Although this man and woman look innocent enough...

&

They definitely have a little crazy running through them...

I have no idea who this is...but what a great face to demonstrate "crazy"!

Why would I say that about such seemingly normal people?

I was gathering laundry yesterday and came upon something that took me aback. I wasn't expecting it at all. I had to wait for Wix to come home so I could ask him about it - and it turns out, those seemingly normal people gave it to him in his Halloween bag.

What, exactly, did I come across?

To Whom it May Concern...

...I don't really care if you don't want to get up at 6:00 am. Neither do I. But you have to get up so I have 8 hours to look for my sanity, without your help for school.

...it isn't my problem you don't have clean clothes. Maybe you should have put them in the hamper every day - rather than dumping them on me all at once. Oh yeah - the hamper is that huge thing by your bedroom door...right next to the pile of clothes you've accumulated on the floor. You know, that thing you use as a weapon against your brother and sister.

...you'll get me to wash your clothes if you ask me before 10 pm.

...no, I'm not going to let you have a girl sleep over. You haven't been that successful at taking all my sense.

...yes, I do get "pissy" when the police show up at 10:30 pm because the neighbor called after they heard you yell at your sister, "I'm going to throw you down the stairs and kill you!!". And she's screaming in a pitch that's close to something only neighbors dogs can hear.

...I also get "pissy" when you use the word "pissy".

...I hate riding the city bus.

...I get a bit irritated when, 2 weeks into school, you call to tell me you'll be home late because you have detention.

...you gave me every gray hair I have on my head - so stop singing that stupid song you guys made up. ("Secret Gray Haired Girl" sung to what I've now decided is also a stupid song "Secret Agent Man".)

...you can give me all the dirty looks you want for taking 17 items in the 15 item lane at the grocery store. I just want to get out of there before my 'beasts do damage I can't pay for.

...I'm not amused when we get home from the store and I discover 5 things I didn't purchase at the store - but you threw in the cart behind my back. Especially when I had to put my Midol back because I didn't have enough money to cover the total.

...you'll feel the same way when you discover why I was buying the Midol.

...it isn't charming when you go up to random strangers and tell them I'm single and need a date.

...it really isn't charming when you choose to do this when I haven't showered, we walked to the store in 90* heat, and the guy is:

~ so obviously not into hygeine.

~ has a wedding ring the size of Maldives.

~ is already with a woman.

...it's so not funny when you call out, in a crowd of people, "Ok, ok - just please don't beat me again when we get home! I can't take the pain anymore!" - OR - "Mom, if you won't use the whip on me I promise to put my own chains back on and get back into the closet myself!".

...I also don't care for the game, Intercom Mom. (Don't know what that is? It's one of the hottest games my kids love to play - and the rules are simple. The store must be busy - and mom must be frazzled. You nonchalantly make your way away from said mother...then beat feet to the customer service desk. Then you tell the person working that you think your mom left you at the store - and could they please page your mom?? Yeah. I love that game.)

...finding out you're a well-known "comp doctor", after you left me hanging with my pain situation, annoys me.

...no, I don't think I'm the only mother in the universe who gets upset when you spend the night at your friend's house - and come home with bright green hair. And a nose ring. And some additional new "colorful" words to add to your already "colorful" vocabulary.

...having your dean call me - in the middle of an appointment with "comp doctor" - to let me know you skipped a class, will put me on edge. Telling the dean I don't "do anything" and am just at home, not answering so the dean should continue calling back until he gets an answer, isn't exactly on my list of great ideas, either.

...then again, the dean deciding it's ok to continue hitting redial until I answer, gives me serious cause for concern regarding our educational system.

...I'm sorry you think I'm acting "uppity" because I was irritated you called some 800 number to get a "free" Bible from the Mormons - and now they won't stop calling/coming over - and you want me to handle it, and I won't. You called for the Bible. You can politely tell them you aren't interested. HINT: Agreeing to let them come over for a Bible study this weekend, then planning on just pretending you aren't home when they show up, is not a good way to end their barrage of calls/visits.

...just because I "look" normal doesn't mean my handicap placard hanging from the rear view mirror is fake. No I'm not interested in discussing my medical condition with you. No you cannot have my dr's phone number. No I don't care if you report me.

...and finally, I don't care about so-and-so's parents letting their kid have co-ed sleepovers/go two states over for a rap concert/not having to go to school/drive - alone - even though they failed the driving test/smoke pot/whatever,.You've already told me I'm "the meanest mom in the world", I'm "totally uncool", and that I was "never a kid so [I] don't understand and never will!!" - and that other thing. You know, the one about the joy I get out of punishing you, the pure glee I feel for not letting you do whatever you want, and the sheer giddiness I have about you (and your attitude) staying home rather than going out with your friends. I actually do sit up at night and come up with ways to make you miserable. (Are you kidding me? I'm almost always useless by 7, praying for bed by 8, and catatonic by 9...and you think I'm still able to come up with ways to wreck your life??)

Wait. Scrap that.

xx,