Judging by the steady stream of comments like ‘we want beaver! Must have beaver!‘ I think I’ve left our male QB fans waiting in salivatng agony long enough. So here it is readers, the picture you’ve been asking for. The first ever Queen Beaches beaver shot… be careful what you wish for, you might just get it.
‘Oooo! It’s so big!’ ‘So luxuriously full and furry!’ ‘Look at the colors and patterns as the light dapples over it!’ Okay, STOP looking at the coat… look up… higher… all the way. To the tippy top of my head. There it is… the shot of my beaver that I’ve been promising.
It has also just occurred to me that my soleus to the maximus are on full display here as well. In fact, this entire picture is just a huge hot tranny mess... where'd I leave my wine?
Just a quick entry to answer a recurring question I've been getting lately- here is Claiborne's version: "I seem to remember a photo was taken whilst fair Jamie was wearing the beaver. Would it be possible to post it so that everyone can get the visual?"
Yes, Claiborne, you are absolutely correct. The paparazzi were out in force that night and did indeed get a good shot of my beaver. However, apparently they (i.e. Katherine) were so jealous that they have 'lost' my beaver shot. Apparently they were not strong enough to risk running the photograph and discovering that my erstwhile muff is every bit as fab as I think it is.
Chris (my husband) has graciously offered to help me this weekend by taking another beaver shot which I will post as soon as it becomes available. Which will probably be a good thirty minutes after it is taken. You know how men are.
A couple of years ago I took tennis lessons with a really fun group of women, and I am absolutely convinced that we were the highlight of pro Steven Welt's week. Not so much because of our tennis prowess, but because of our uncanny ability to take any conversation and lead it straight into the gutter. (Full disclosure: yes, it was usually me leading the charge. Shocker.) Fast forward to last Friday and one can only imagine what transpired when Jamie busted out the Beaver.
Easy fellas. It was a hat. But not just any hat, it was her grandmothers real beaver hat, which I was surprised (mortified?) to discover J-Me's grandfather killed and had fashioned into a hat all by himself, with the help of a haberdasher, natch. (aside to Kenny - I make hats!) Keep in mind that my family hails from NYC so any furs in our closets came from the safe confines of a Long Island boutique, where one needn't think about the fact that one's gaw-geous new coat used to be an actual woodland creature. We know better now. Long live faux fur! And while we're on that topic - my friend Brandy would like to know...is there an actual farm where they raise pink bunnies? Yes, I told her, right next to the boneless chicken ranch. Sorry - I digress. Back to Jamie's beaver - she busted it out (the hat people, the hat) at our party to get a group consensus as to whether or not it was in fact, Fug or Fab. I think we all agreed, after reverting to the requisite 12 year old beaver humor for quite some time, that it was truly fab in theory, but alas, in reality was too small. They musta had some tiny heads back then. So Jamie came up with the brilliant idea of converting it into a muff.Well. You can imagine the fun we had with THAT one. And with that, dear readers, I'm going to let you take it from here, because my parents read this blog and well, I think I've made them proud enough already.
Ah, what a fuggin' fabulous Queen Beaches party! We were psyched to see so many Queen Bees buzzin' around, a martini in one hand, the other flipping through the hot spring clothes at A & M's... not only will we be doing it more often, but are already thinking about celebrating the blog's 1 year Anniversary (next Spring) with a Queen Beaches Prom! Dig out those bridesmaid dresses... shoot, get out your prom dress if it still fits!... find some awesome dyed shoes and get your man some hair gel! We'll drop details as they become available I.E. whenever we hit the Wodka and, naturally, think up unique and BRILLIANT ideas (like this blog).
And to answer Quinn's question about the size of my hangover- it was exactly equal to the size of my Rhoda martini glass- itty bitty! I felt splendiferous yesterday and only a wee bit soggy.
I went up north last week for a funeral. Getting into the church meant walking straight into the wind, so once in the vestibule I looked around for a mirror in which to straighten my lovely blonde locks (see picture below; I wish it had been taken before my lipstick blurred but at least my eyes aren't at half-mast like Quinn's. HA! I bet Katherine thought SHE got to be Patsy! Called it first!) Anyhoo, all I found was a quite diminutive mirror which upon further inspection turned out to be the passenger side mirror from an automobile. A closer look revealed that some very clever person had replaced the word 'closer' so that the factory applied stenciling at the bottom of the mirror now read 'OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE HAPPIER THAN THEY APPEAR'.
Katherine and I are stenciling our closet mirrors this weekend to read 'OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE THINNER THAN THEY APPEAR'.
Shout outs from Friday night- Tami Chase: LOVED your dress!... Janet Ellis: we are going to have to limit you to trying on 5 outfits next time because once we realized that everything looks awesome on your tiny little frame we got very depressed... Clai: I'm still in trouble about the St. Pauli dress, could you reconsider?... who didn't love those new jeans at Ally & Maddy??... jewelry madam Heather was ROCKIN' a cute little outfit at the end (and her jewelry ROCKS)... apparently nobody realized that the Fug Martini glasses (wine glasses with painted on translucent pink flamingoes) were a GIFT WITH PURCHASE and I am still stuck with all 6...
I could go on and on about how great everybody looked both in their own clothes and in potential new togs... I could go on and on about how fun the whole night was... about how great it was to spend more than 2 minutes with Ann McD who I never get to see!... but what I think it all boils down to is maybe there just aren't enough girl's night opportunities out there for true Queen Bees which is exactly what the Queen Beaches are going to remedy! Thanks for coming out.... look for my Friday night beaver shot in the next entry. (Bet that gets some male QB readers titillating... it's hot.)
It's a nasty Saturday here on the Outer Banks. Pouring rain, kinda humid, nary a shopper to be seen, and based on the way the pomegranate martini's were flowing here last night, I would guess quite a few hangovers. How YOU feeling, Jamie? Our Fug or Fab party was without a doubt, absolutely FAB. Big big thanks to all of you for coming out and helping celebrate our blog, share our cocktails and toast to all that is fab in the world. There truly is nothing like the support of good friends and a spandex undergarment. (Yummie Tummies! Hell to the yeah!) We have decided that last night was WAY too much fun to only do once, so we the Queen Beaches are thrilled to announce we will be hosting regular (monthly? bi-monthly? we'll get back to you...) group blog forums where we will gather at a local watering hole, throw out a topic for discussion and live blog your comments. We'll be glad to give credit where credit is due, but if you prefer anonymity we will change the names to protect the innocent and/or intoxicated. There were definitely a few topics that came up last night that hit a nerve and sparked some rather emphatic opinions. We're gonna shake things up! Get controversial! Dissect important issues! Rock the Casbah! (sorry, I'm still listening to the 80's station.) So...coming later today...a re-cap of last night's events. My take on Bobby Brown's tell all book about Whitney Houston (good god I can't wait to get my hands on that). And my unabashed glee at the discovery of the return of one of my absolute favorites to tv. *sigh* Life is good.
So it turns out that narcotics aren't as much fun as I thought they'd be. This sciatic thing still hurts like a m*%$##@! f%!@#*er, and I'm completely over it for many reasons: 1) um...it HURTS! 2) i feel like a 90 year old man every time I mention my "sciatic pain." 3) 9 days of pain meds are doing a number on me so i'm nauseated all the time, but can't stop taking them because...it HURTS! Actually, I can get through the day ok although i seem pretty stoned most of the time, but here on the outer banks that doesn't draw any attention. It's trying to sleep at night that gets challenging, and thus I have learned that other than the Sopranos, the Wire, Mad Men & Project Runway everything else on tv sucks. Witness:
a) Real Housewives of NYC. Jamie has commented on this one before, but I hadn't watched it, so since there was some sort of marathon on last night, I tuned in. Holy Crap! Who the hell are these people? We have Betthheenneeeyyy with her ridiculous fake boobs, bad skin (helloo? aren't you supposed to be a natural chef or something?), total lack of self-awareness and apparently a drinking problem. I actually had to turn the channel at one point because she was so painful to watch. Then there's Alex who seriously needs to eat a carb, and with all her money evidently can't find a decent hairdresser or conditioner. We also have Jill, who lets her chihuahua (which technically is a rat, not a dog) LICK UP HER NOSE! I mean the dogs tongue seriously gets all up in her nostril. Can't you just give the damn thing a milk bone? ** shudder ** And then there's LuAnn who wants her son to be well rounded so she gets him a breakdance instructor named Cyclone. That's nice. Now he can get his ass kicked while he's spinning on his head. Finally, there's Ramona, but she just makes my head hurt so I'm done with this topic.
b) Scientists have discovered the million year old dung of a spider, beetle or some other small creature. I can't remember, but it was exciting enough to be the subject of an entire show.
c) Jay Leno is terrible. Switched to Jimmy Kimmel. I like Jimmy, I do, but his first guest was Steve "I peaked with Cocoon" Guttenberg who looks like he's had his face and neck pulled a little too tight.
And he's a tool. Don't bother watching the video, just look long enough to see his turtle-like neck. Actually, that may be what million year old turtle shit looks like. Fortunately at that point the vicodin kicked in.
d) There's a new horror flick coming out called the Ruins.
I was only half listening to the commercial the other night while in my drug induced haze, but I gather it's something about some haunted ancient ruins and some sort of supernatural "beast" that is killing people from the inside out. All I know is, I heard the character say "It's INSIDE me" and I turned to the tv in time to see the title pop up on screen and I SWEAR I thought it said THE RUNS. Now that's scary.
Two haute mommas from the beach with our take on fashion do's, don'ts and oh no you didn'ts!! Plus life, love, kids, celebs, and whatever else tickles our fancy. We hope to answer life's critical questions, like,
"does this blog make my ass look fat?"
