Category Archives: Royal Decree

TIT BRIGADE! ATTENTION!

The page you have been waiting for is here!

In honor of breastfeeding mothers everywhere, all of whom should feed WHEREVER and WHENEVER they see fit, we are showing you our TITS. You will notice a new link in my LEFT sidebar that will FOREVER show my tits, your tits, anyone who wants’ tits to the world in an honest effort to make people everywhere realize THEY ARE JUST BOOBS!They are meant to feed. They are meant to nourish. THEY ARE NOT OBSCENE and they should and WILL be whipped out anywhere and everywhere there is a crying baby.
GET THE FUCK OVER THEM!

There is still time to add your tits to the cause. Email me at queenofspainblog@yahoo.com!

Tits Across the Blogosphere

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Holy Boobs!

I want to thank everyone in their support of my “Whip ‘Em Out” for Maggie internet nurse-in. I can’t get over how many of you took off your tops and flashed me-all in the name of shutting up the haters.

I have so many emails I’m STILL reading them all, and so far, not ONE has been negative. And my inbox runneth over in boobage. So much so, that I’m going to launch an entire new page to this site brimming with nips, tits, and all that is breast. YOUR breasts that you sent me, linked to me, and otherwise lifted your shirts, bras, blankets, and those totally retarded “tents” to show me.

Look out internet, my tits are paving the way for dozens more…all beautiful, bodacious, and JUST FUCKING BOOBS! So in the spirit of telling the world to FUCK OFF THEY ARE JUST BOOBS I will happily launch the Tit Brigade in the next few days…for those who have already sent their tits to me, I thank you. Please let me know if you want them to be posted with or without your blog and or name. For those who want their tits on the page-email me now!

queenofspainblog@yahoo.com

For breastfeeding moms everywhere-SHOW US YOUR TITS!

Stick Your Pampered Chef Up Your Ass

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Raise your hand if you have to go to a pampered chef/tupperwear/naughty lingerie/home accent/wrought iron sconce I don’t need/and/or/candle party in the next few weeks.

I’m done. I’m not going. I’m not buying the crap to help you out or to stick in my guest bathroom.

I’m not going for the food or the free drinks or the mingling with other women I only know from seeing them at some school function last winter.

I’m not going to throw a party so you can get the extra large hurricane vase and I can get a 20-percent discount.

I’m not going to ask the same people I ask every single time to come. And I’m not going to go to their parties because they’ve run out of new people at work to invite.

I’m not going to feel obligated to buy something cheap so you can get your discount. I’m not going to make people I know feel obligated to buy something from me because I bought at their last party.

I’m not going to be tricked into thinking I need 2 dozen plum scented votive candles. I’m not going to buy yet another measuring cup that can’t seem to measure the solids or the liquids correctly after the first dishwasher safe cycle.

I’m not going to feel bad, either.

Stop the madness.

You can call me Mrs. Jumbo

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If you ever make fun of my kids, I’ll squash you like Dumbo’s Mom.

That’s my new motto.

I just made the mistake of watching Dumbo with my children, and I firmly believe Mrs. Jumbo had every right to kick the shit out of those dorky kids. Mrs. Jumbo is my new hero.

Every time I have ever watched this movie I was so concerned for Dumbo that it didn’t occur to me the suffering Mrs. Jumbo was going through while in Elephant Jail.

I also don’t think I’ve watched this movie since I’ve had children. Big mistake.

For those who haven’t seen it in awhile (or ever) Dumbo the big eared kid gets teased by some jerk circus patrons and Mrs. Jumbo smacks them silly. She gets thrown in the clink and Dumbo is left to try and make sense of the world with no friends except a mouse named Timothy.

Once Mrs. Jumbo is incarcerated I can’t concentrate on the movie. All I can think about is Mrs. Jumbo,worried to death about what happened to her kid once they dragged her away. Is he being looked after? Does he have food? A warm blanket? Did anyone hug him and comfort him while he mother was being locked up?

Sweet God in heaven if I were Mrs. Jumbo I don’t know what I’d do. Knowing those other bitch elephants wouldn’t step in and care for my son. Leaving him out there, alone in the big circus world.

Can you imagine being torn from your children and locked away without any knowledge of their wellbeing or welfare? Maddening.

Ok. Enough.

I’ve never really been a collector of trinkets or things (shut up, my dear Kaiser husband…regular things don’t count) but I honestly think I may take more of an interest in anything with Mrs. Jumbo.

She deserves the recognition.

Mrs. Jumbo. I’m with ya’ sister in motherhood- in spirit and in ass size.

I also think she should be our new mascot. For all us “naptime activists” and mother’s with causes, Mrs. Jumbo shows we won’t take any shit and will fight if you mess with our kids.

We might have to do something about that homely pink hat she wears, but otherwise…Mrs. Jumbo rocks.