Smell Ya Later, Houston
So guess what? The Beyoncé and I are moving back to Denver, from whence we came. In 17 days. We’ve both given notice. We’ve posted it on Twitter and Facebook so you know it’s o-fficial.
The Beyoncé and I, as it turns out, have fundamentally different approaches to the process of moving. I prefer to do as little work as possible and hire packers and/or movers. The Beyoncé insists that the entire thing be a DIY project, and not in a sexy hipster, devil-horned-crocheted-cap sort of way, either. Oh no. Read on.
Since I don’t see patients on Mondays I was tasked with procuring cost-free cardboard boxes. I had already magnanimously agreed that a) we would pack our own shit and b) we would use U-Haul to schlep said shit. Feeling quite impressed with my ability to compromise, I headed out this morning on a quest for boxes.
I courageously went to two liquor stores, one grocery store, and Office Motherfucking Depot. And what did I get for my trouble? Blank stares, uncomprehending gazes, a little bit of drool, and NO BOXES. After this unstinting bitchazzness, I called The Beyoncé to inform him that I would no longer be scrounging boxes like a common, well ….box-scrounger. Oh no, not this queen.
I then spent 45 minutes driving in circles in downtown Houston, trying to echolocate the U-Haul store using sonar clicks and trills. Bupkes! GoogleMaps had failed me utterly and all seemed lost when suddenly arose the U-Haul sign, like a great orange beacon against dark stormy seas, luminous on the horizon! After much careful deliberation I emerged victorious, my car full of boxes of varying handy sizes. I even got tape. Impressive!
When all this broke-dick tomfoolery is finally over, we will be in Denver. The Beyoncé has hisself a pretty cool job, and I will be doing the same sort of long-term care stuff I’m doing now, only for a smaller company.
I will miss Houston–I recently rekindled some friendships with people I’d known way back when I was in gradual school in Lincoln, NE and I’m very sad to have to disconnect from these awesome people AGAIN.
And of course there’s the truly hawesome Houston Twitter community….far too many to name individually….which has led me to several incredible friendships I wish I had more time to develop. I’m hopeful that living in a more hospitable climate with close proximity to mountains, skiing, and did I say mountains? will lead to LOTS of visits from our Houston friends.
Houston has really grown on me, and not like some kind of post-Ike mold, either. When we first moved here I thought it was all noveau-riche bitchez wearing fancy jeans and driving Lotuses. And it kinda is. But there’s a lot more to Houston if you can look past the wretched excess, hurricanes, and stifling humidity. There’s a vibrant arts community, tons of museums, cool ethnic neighborhoods, accessible professional sports, some of the best restaurants EVER, fascinating history, and lots of economic growth. Good stuff.
I will miss this place. I will miss these people. It’s my belief that nothing lasts forever, and if it’s meant to be, our paths will cross again. May the silver go-go boots of GirlJesus™ bless you and keep you all the days of your lives, y’all.
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |
Queen Bodacious’ House Of Sass
Y’all. I got me a lil jewelry shop over at Etsy. It’s fabulous. Trust. The above photo is actually stuff I made with my own two beady hands. There was a fuckload of some swearing involved in the process.
Because I often have trouble finding bracelets that fit my superheroine-sized, former rugger/shotputter/archer wrists, I decided to make the bracelets of the 8″ variety. If you need a smaller size, just convo me and I’ll do it. Also: send bourbon. It helps me focus now that I’m off gluten/bacon/sugar.
I make beaded sparkly-sparkly* with beads, wire and all manner of gaudy-ass shit.
It’s my therapy. Don’t judge.
Buy.
* This is what I call jewelry that I find delightful. And maybe slightly trashy. But definitely sparkly.
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |
Help Me Save Those Goddamn Lazyass Whales
I mean really. What have whales ever done for me? Nothing, that’s what. But Dr. Ding is a total sucker for marine mammals like whales, dolphins, seals and manatees… despite the fact that all they do all freakin’ day is eat, poop, frolic, and fuck. It’s a great life but a tad unproductive, wouldn’t you say? Shouldn’t someone be clueing these bitches into some kind of lifehack, personal brand or search engine optimization?
Anywallow, sign this petition. The cheerleader on Heroes is running it, and let’s face it, you do NOT want to piss her indestructible ass off.
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |
Somebody Buy Me This
Oh my gentle GirlJesus™. I found this gem over at List of The Day. I want!
What’s not to love? Purple-haired aliens, mesh manboob shirts, and supergroovy space vehicles. I immediately put it at the top of my Netflix queue. If this is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.
And while I’m on the subject of cinéma vérité, when are you bitchez going to pony up and buy me Killer Drag Queens on Dope like I demanded asked so nicely? Chop chop.
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |
Lordy Lordy Look Who’s 40
That’s right, you’ns. Dr. Ding is turning 40 tomorrow and I couldn’t be happier. Why? Read on, my gentle and very sexy readers.
1. Finally, I will have a smokescreen for my pottymouthed, irreverent and curmudgeonly behavior. People will just go “Oh, it’s probably just the perimenopause talking” and leave it at that, which then allows me to continue my bid for global domination unfettered by things like decorum. Or, quite possibly, a job.
2. I will be squarely in the zone of negative a-fuck-giving. I’ve been teetering between Not Caring One Whit about what others think and Not Giving A Tinker’s Damn, but rollin’ with the 4-0 heaves me into some hippy-zen kind of mental state where I’m all cool with letting the stream of life, like flow on by me, man. Wow. It’s just so….there, you know?
3. According to the ancient ways of my people* turning 40 entitles me legally to go swanning around whenver I feel like it while demanding that people pay homage by throwing glitter and the occasional set of rhinestone eyelashes.
4. Most people don’t know this, but being out of one’s 30s automatically imbues one with deep mystical wisdom, effortless grace, and the sudden ability to perform the Electric Booglaoo. Truth. Behold:
*Women who unabashedly adore drag queens, 1980s nighttime soap opera wardrobes, and pretty much anything with a reflective surface.
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |
7 Things About The Ding
Y’all. My esteemed colleague, Dr. Miggy, has tagged me. Where I’m from we would call that a “pimp slap” but whatever.
She has requested my particular brand of “fart humor elegantly dressed in GRE vocabulary” and I do not want to disappoint La Miggy. She’s got a new art blog, ArtLicker, which makes her way cooler than me because I don’t know stuff about art. If you put an “f” in front of it though, I am definitely your gal.
So here are 7 things you didn’t know about the Dingster.
1. I was an aquanaut as a teenager. I lived underwater in a habitat in Islamorada, Florida for 24 hours and saw bioluminescent creatures and swam around a lot while breathing from a gigantic hookah from topside. I brought down eyeliner and 3 swimsuits in a pressurized pot. Glamma!
2. In college I was a rugby prop forward for 3 seasons. I didn’t make it to a 4th thanks to being obsessed with getting into grad school and filling out 13 very lengthy applications using a typewriter. Yes, you read that correctly. A. Typewriter. Afterwards, I punched my feet through the floorboards of my granite automobile and left the town of Bedrock for a long vacation.
3. In the summer of 1987 I worked at Baskin & Robbins. I couldn’t eat ice cream for 2 years following.
4. I don’t think I kept a single New Year’s Resolution I made for 2008, except using my rewards points and keeping my car running. Meh.
5. Secretly I think about quitting my job and working retail so I can have a fabulous wardrobe at a fraction of the cost. Or going to beauty school. Or becoming a wig stylist for a drag show.
6. Lately I’ve been reading a bunch of books by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Childs. They’re the duo that wrote Relic and Reliquary. I read those a long time ago and now I’m getting caught up on all the new ones featuring Agent Pendergast. They’re addictive, mind-candy thrillers.
7. The Beyonce is going to taunt me for admitting this publicly, but I adore crossword puzzles. I plan on subscribing to the New York Times ones. Shit’s about to get real, people.
So, those among my loyal readers who blog: consider yourself tagged.
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |