The game was utter nonsense. Whoever heard of playing croquet with flamingos and hedgehogs? Complete and utter twaddle.
And that trial. Farce, circus, charade, shambles! She had finally lost her temper, which, in turn, caused the Queen to lose her temper and order her card soldiers to lop off the interloping girl’s head.
And then the mushrooms! Right? Left? Who can remember? All she knew was, the next thing, she was a giant again and the cards were stabbing at her ankles with their spears.
The cards fanned out in her hand easily, screeching and crying, and then fell like a black and red rain of spades, clubs, diamonds, and hearts. She swatted at them but they only cut her hands with their razor-thin edges, painting those white roses – her one glory – red. Beneath the hem of her dress, she could hear the Queen of Hearts shrieking.
“Off with her head! Off with her head!”
“No!” Alice reached down a bleeding hand and grabbed hold of the now three-inch-tall Queen. “You have given orders quite enough!” …
I have this one friend and I imagine this is him on a Saturday night.
Last year I decided I was going to hold thanksgiving at my house because I hate deciding which side of the family to visit. My parents have been divorced for nearly 30 years and in the last few years there’s been dwindling attendance at both houses for the holiday. Some people don’t come because they are visiting with their spouses, others are in jail, some just live too far away and don’t have the means to travel.
I felt really guilty about whichever choice I made about where I was going to eat food and pass out, so I figured it was a good idea to consolidate. Everyone brings a little something, I cook the turkey and gravy, everyone is stuffed and happy.
I realized after my brilliant idea had been set I to motion that I was going to have my mother, my second mother (I hate the term stepmother), and my grandmother all in my tiny kitchen. This could be disastrous. Even though I’m 32 years old, I know that when it comes to cooking - I could be a goddamn gourmet chef and they would still want to be in the kitchen telling me what to do — because I come from a long line of take charge control freak women.
I had to figure out a way to take charge of women who were used to being in the drivers seat for family events. Then I remembered I still had the tiara I wore on my wedding day. I told everyone I was going to wear my tiara to cook thanksgiving dinner so that it was completely obvious that I was queen of the kitchen.
Of course, everyone thought it was me just being hilarious. (Because really, we all know I am.) But when I greeted everyone at the door, I did so with my crown firmly affixed.
The decision to have thanksgiving at my house again this year was a bit last minute, but thankfully I keep my tiara on my nightstand (don’t ask), and thus the tiara tradition continues.
Maybe I’ll start calling thanksgiving “Turkey and Tiaras” — because hilarity.
I’m getting real tired of your shit, Jezebel. Let me tell you why selfies ARE empowering and why telling women what should or shouldn’t be empowering is a sign of low self-esteem.
"Well, when I was nine years old, Star Trek came on, I looked at it and I went screaming through the house, 'Come here, mum, everybody, come quick, come quick, there's a black lady on television and she ain't no maid!' I knew right then and there I could be anything I wanted to be.”
— Whoopi Goldberg
Uhura is everything.
Even better that Whoopi became Guinan in TNG.
Please don’t touch my bathing suit zone.
STRANGER DANGER! Quit molesting baby Jesus!