Not My Prince, but a Prince nonetheless. Nor is that me but it is my boobs. That is totally what my boobs look like. Get out. This is my fairy tale.
Of course this tale did not take place in the Black (and White) Forest but in San Diego where the skies can be a bit grey in July. There were no witches or villians or frogs, just a stupid Prince and an admittedly stupid Princess who wore tee shirts under babydoll dresses and followed the Prince around wimpering, but I love you! Which, of course, only made the 20 year old Prince gallop away in his '68 Dodge Dart that much faster.
So on the 4th of July the Princess was alone with her cat named Kitty. (And no that is not a euphimism for masturbation because this is a fairy tale and not a porn.) The Princess went down to the beach alone where it seemed as if the entire kingdom was laughing, calling to eachother and tossing frisbees as if they were filming a Sunkist commercial and she were an extra, or worse, working at the craft services table. The Princess felt as if at any minute a cranky short man with a clapboard would wander onto the set and kick her off the beach because she simply didn't belong. So she kicked herself off and went home and listened to the fireworks from her teeny basement studio apartment with the wall to wall carpet that was infested with sand fleas.
And every year since then the sound and smell of fireworks takes me back to that place, to that time when I felt as if Independence Day was a funeral and Yankee Doodle Dandy a Dick. If you're in that place this weekend, a kingdom of your own Grimm's Fairy Tale, here are some of my recommendations to get you through it: 1. Chocolate covered pretzels: the perfect combo of salty and sweet (just like young love).
2. Postcards From Yo Momma: In case your own mom isn't around to make you feel better, check out this website that features funny correspondence from other mothers. Here's a sampler:
I NEED HELP AND SOON, BEFORE I STARVE TO DEATH !!!!
I am guessing that you are wondering how come I’m doing this — it’s just because I am locked into my computer room and cannot get out. I was trying to put a door knob on the door and got started, but the thing went completely closed as I was trying to see if it was going to fit — and now here I am having to stoop so low as to write an email to you to see if you could call someone to come get me out. My phones, of course, are all in the other room. I thought that perhaps you could call Beverly and have her and Howie come over and get me out. If you happen to have Tami’s number then call her.
Anyhow, can you get me out of here. I guess I’ll just play games on the computer until someone lets me out of here. Send me an email to let me know you are doing this for me. 3. Rent the first season of Californication. I realize I'm a little late to this party, but I have spent the last 48 hours watching these DVDs and oh. my. god. I have never really liked David Duchovny before, but now? Oh. The characters are just so good. The 12 year old daughter Becca is like a modern day Phoebe Caufield if Phoebe dressed like Emily the Strange and sang punk rock thick as syrup sweet. She is my new muse. Is it weird that a 12 year old fictional character is my muse?
Anyhow, can you get me out of here. I guess I’ll just play games on the computer until someone lets me out of here. Send me an email to let me know you are doing this for me. 3. Rent the first season of Californication. I realize I'm a little late to this party, but I have spent the last 48 hours watching these DVDs and oh. my. god. I have never really liked David Duchovny before, but now? Oh. The characters are just so good. The 12 year old daughter Becca is like a modern day Phoebe Caufield if Phoebe dressed like Emily the Strange and sang punk rock thick as syrup sweet. She is my new muse. Is it weird that a 12 year old fictional character is my muse?
4. And lastly, find out just how truly fucked you are by visiting I Am Neurotic. This website allows you to post your particular neurosis and lets people comment on your instability. My fave: Everyday i ask my family questions only they would know to make sure they’re actually my mother, father, etc. like, what if they were robots or aliens. i just want to make sure. Wait--that's neurotic???
Okay, there you go. A fairly random list of my long weekend recommendations in case you've got the 4th of July Blues. Me? Luckily the Evil Spell of the Two 20 Year Old Idiots Who Were Only Royal In That They Were Pains In The Asses broke long ago so my Prince became my King and I, the Queen. We are taking our little Princess Zoey to the beach. To film a Sunkist commercial.
Be Safe!
14 comments:
When I was in high school (just before my 18th birthday) my (bastard) prince of 2 years broke up with me on new years eve for a 13 year old(yes that's right - she was an 8th grader and we were seniors). For the next two years I was a bitter mean old witch on New Year's eve. Then I realized he had a problem and this princess was WAY better without a prince that liked them young. This story gets funnier and even has a touch of irony but I'll leave that for another day.
I got dumped on my birthday once, that was really klassy.
I really had a 68 dodge dart - it had a push button transmission - do your remember - did his? mine was white with red interior
Anonymous--no, his didn't have the push button ignition. Just the slant 6, stock upholstery and a radio that grew louder when you revved the engine. To this day when we see an old Dodge Dart on the road he drools and talks about getting another one.
i f*ing love david duchovny. and he looks 10 times hotter in that show than he ever did in x-files. (nerd alert!)
oh, and actually there are these choclate covered almonds at trader joes that have sea salt or something crazy on them, and they are WAY more addictive than chocolate covered pretzels. just thought i'd share :)
i love how the pressure of holidays makes people do stupid things. i broke up with my boyfriend in high school because he wouldn't want to go see the fireworks with me. i turned it into a big "then you must not love me" deal and we fought the whole night. what a nerd i was! we dated for 5 more years and still never spent the 4th together. bastard.
i hope you post pics from your sunkist commercial monday!
I was such a dumbass when I was 20 as well. I plucked all my eyebrows out (like pencil thin) because I thought I would look like Kate Moss.
I didn't.
Have a great weekend!
Great post. I must say that first picture (of the Fresh Princes of London) just kills me. I have to keep revisiting your blog, and I crack up every time I see it. I think it is just begging for a caption contest or something. The look of William especially just sends me into a fit of giggles.
In college my boyfriend broke up with me on Christmas Eve. This came as complete shock to me because I was sure he was going to purpose to me because we were in love. Oh the drama! Turns out he was gay. Go figure!
This is all so sad. I feel for each of you. I guess my life has been charmed.
I don't know what to say, other than that I heart you more and more each and every day.
i love your stories.
and i hate when i just love them and have no brain power to respond to them appropriately.
just love.
I loved reading this.
Also - I LOVE Californication. I've always been a David Duchoveny (don't feel like looking up the correct spelling) fan since his Fox Muldar days. But in this show - he's just ... well, he's just somethin' else. It's a fantastic show.
I know I’m off topic here but I just can’t let this pass…..
Hey, Missy, those are NOT your boobs that the randy Princelet is groping-not EVEN in your fantasy. Your boobs, quite unlike the pair in the photo, are real not store-bought (not that there's anything wrong with that as Seinfeld would say on a different subject). They are real and you got them from ME. Now once upon a time in a far, far distant galaxy named "Gravity-Free,Young and Pre-Pregnancy", I had me some FINE Hooter Twins-not too big, not too small, couldn't then grip Webster's Unabridged under them-they were JUST RIGHT. Like the adoring Mother I was-and since I was the appropriate parent to do so, I passed those Girls on to you.....and it was good.
Now, edging towards the, oh so satisfying point of this comment....This, then Princess (now Queen of Nothing), ME, new. Proud Mom of two could not help but notice that her once perky Girls had become a sad shadow of their former selves. Gravity, time, two pregnancies and some half assed attempts at breast-feeding, had definitely taken their toll. However, it was not enough that the Princess had only to look down and see the sad decline of her once memorable 34Cs because, each night as she put her adorable, precious daughter to bed, a cruel ritual ensued. Once the Princess had done the obligatory under the bed check for lurking monsters and called an "all clear", turned all the collectible Geisha dolls' faces to the wall for the night (their faces were fine by day but ominously too” skinny" by night for Precious to relax), found the "Dream Necklace" and placed it in her adorable child's sweet little palm to banish nightmares and keep her safe through the night, finished the nightly reading or singing Sweet Girl to pre-sleep, she would then lean over and down to kiss Sweet Sus goodnight and tuck her in...and then.....her Precious child began her own nightly ritual of reaching up and alternately palming the Princess's less than stellar mams, bouncing them and singing in her quiet, little voice, "Weebles Wobble, but They Don't Fall Down".
The only thought in the Princess's head, other than how sharper than a serpent's tooth were the young, was that ONE DAY....SOME DAY, Precious child would find out that not only genes, but gravity, years and pregnancy inevitably work their dastardly deeds and that KHARMA does exist .
I'm going to be teaching a certain Granddaughter the Weebles ditty soon...and you still have at least one more pregnancy to go before those boobs are completely finished off. So, with all the love in my heart, you got MY boobs and their fate is already written (Sorry about the pancake ass which you also got from me...and your Dad). All My Love, Mom
The End
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