New web address

Hi everybody,

I’ve noticed that I gained a couple of new followers since I completed my migration. Since my first nine months of photos are still hosted here, at jesterqueen1, I can’t put an autoforward on this address. So I’m sending out an update that if you want  to keep hearing from me (oh please, want to hear from me!!) you should visit me at and sign up for e-mail updates there. I’d be so grateful if you did, and I apologize profusely for the hassle.

Friday Fluff February 23, 2012

Dear readers,

Friday Fluff is going up early (even before the linkup is open) because The Jester Queen is moving. It shouldn’t look or feel any different to you. If I’m doing this right, you won’t notice anything different, and there shouldn’t be any downtime. However, the process takes between 36 and 48 hours, and I’m not going to lie and say I’m not scared shitless. If you are used to getting e-mails from me, you won’t get one Friday, Saturday, or possibly Sunday. Or, I don’t know how this works, maybe Saturday, Sunday, and dear god surely that’s all. BUT. The e-mails and new content should resume on Monday, which means that if you don’t hear from me, PLEASE visit and resubscribe to my blog. Everyone at bluehost says this is not necessary. BUT I AM TERRIFIED that I’m about to ditch a following I’ve worked really hard to build up.

Also, I’ve got to get my Friday Fluff up early so I can copy and export my site. I’ll save my Whitney tribute to be the first post of the new blogennium. My Life in Music is up and running right now, and if you want to post about how Whitney has (or has not) affected your life, you can jump right on in over here:



You don’t have to love Whitney to participate! I am the Jester Queen, and as tragic as I find her death, my post won’t be the standard tribute. I’m coming to bury Caesar, not praise her, to mangle me some Shakespeare, and you can contribute your own experience, whether positive, negative, or neutral. Just tell us what she means to you!

Now, to the fluff. This week’s questions come from here, a survey by a dolt who clearly is missing the basic punctuation buttons on his or her keyboard. Briefly, I’ll go over them. Period . Comma , AND Quesion mark ?. Just place those wherever you think them necessary.

Do you think people are good

No. I think we are neutral at best. There’s some study that I’m not looking up that says that we are all predisposed to believe our own intentions are good while others’ intentions are bad. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about normal people being able to justify slaughtering entire families. Not just during the Holocaust, but in the Balkans, in Rwanda, and in Darfur. We are malleable, and under the right circumstances extraordinarily cruel. There are points of extraordinary generosity, but on the whole, these behaviors are less common than simple herd mentality. If the herd is doing good, many people will do good. If the herd is doing evil? Well…

Do you like meeting people

You’d think not after that last answer, wouldn’t you. But I’m actually very fond of meeting new friends.

Do you shake hands

Odd question. It’s very hard to avoid it, although some are adept at offering only a fingertip to avoid crushing. Mostly, I hug.

Is a good handshake important

That sounds sexual. Like, “Baby, come home early tonight, and I’ll give you a good handshake” {eye waggle}

Do you get along with the oposite sex

Spelling fail. The opposite sex and I were having a great time the other night when we “shook hands”… oh you mean platonic friendship. Yeah.

Do you like being around small children

No. I was surprised to find out that I’m fond enough of my own to willingly spend time in their company on a regular basis. And don’t ever make the mistake of shaking one of their hands. PLATONICALLY.

Do you like yourself

You don’t fool me with your mastrubation questions. What started with a handshake ends with the sound of one hand … uh … clapping.

Do you have a best friend

I do.

Do you think your a good friend

I have HAD it with Your. Your and I were finished back when he pulled the Easter Bunny stunt. Fool me once, shame on you(r), fool me twice shame on me. Nuh-uh. Your and I are through.

Do you listen to gossip

Of course, if someone is speaking it. Do I act on it? Depends on whether or not the gossiper and I are on a handshaking basis. {Eye waggle}

Do you think midgets are funny

Hey asshole, I hate prejudice.

Do you feel sorry for fat people

I am a fat person, and I rarely pity myself for it.

Is it funny when someone falls

Falls In love? Falls out of an airplane? Falls down the steps? Falls on banana peels?  Falls down while “shaking hands”? CONTEXT PEOPLE.

Do you like animals

I liked the cow I ate for dinner very much. The chicken wasn’t bad either. But I did NOT shake their hands. Or hooves. Or … whatever the hell you call chicken feet.

Do you help people alot

I sicced Allie Bosch’s alot on one of you people, and I will do it again. Right now. There. Be sure you SHAKE HANDS with it.

Do you do random nice things for people

Clearly, Allie needs to train her alot.  You’re still writing. Yes, I commit random acts of kindness, because I love to flip people out.

I’ll be linking this up with Lisa over at Seeking Elevation. Other than that, see you Sunday or Monday. Gulp.


My Life In Music: Whitney Houston

It’s an every other Thursday folks (like that has a whole lot of meaning to you who are not tracking Thursdays) so it’s time for Bella and I to host another edition of My Life In Music. This round is dedicated to Whitney Houston. Bella is a Whitney fan, and, while I’m not,  I have a lot of respect for the lady and a great deal to say about the tragedy of her death. I’ll be adding my actual submission to the meme in a couple of days, but for now, I wanted to get it up and running over here at Jester Queen.

If you participate, please take a moment to comment on Bella’s and my submissions and at least one other person’s. Beyond that,  just follow the prompt! There is nothing else.  You can post a list of songs, a music video or even just the lyrics of a song! Any genre, any song.  Tell us what it means to you — why it is significant in your life.  That’s all there is to it! Let’s have some fun sharing our lives through music!!.


Dine In, Carry Out

Algy jammed everything back onto the last tabletop after wiping it clean.

Edith said, “Easy now.”

“Rob sent me another letter,” Algy told her.

“Did he?”

“He wants me to send him my paycheck.”

“Ohh.” The sound was a cross between a groan and a sigh. Edith went to the cash drawer, counting the money twice over to be sure. Then she asked, “Did you write him back this time?”

Algy grunted.

“You did, didn’t you.”

Slowly Algy nodded.  “I said to ask me nicely.”

Edith counted out several stacks of bills, then went into the office for her deposit slips. Returning, she asked, “If he does, what then?”

“I’ll tell him it’s too late. That’s my college money.”

Edith smiled. “Good,” she said. She dropped the deposit in her purse and started for the door.

Algy didn’t follow her at once. “Do you really think Granddad will let me have this place when I’m older?”

Edith turned back. “What did that letter say?”

Algy drew a deep breath. “That you and Granddad would be throwing good money after bad to let the restaurant fall to a big headed fool like me.”

Edith shook her head and held a hand out to her grandson. “He’s the fool to say that.”

“That’s why I told him to ask nicely.” Algy joined his grandmother. He didn’t take her hand, but instead held the door. “It’s why I’m waiting for him to ask again to say no.”

“Good,” Edith repeated. She turned and locked the door .“He just wants to get your goat. He’s got a lot of nerve to ask, though.”

“It’s because he still thinks he’s my father,” Algy told her. “But he’s not anymore, is he?”

“No,” said Edith. “And he won’t ever be again.”

Algy opened the driver’s door for his grandmother before going around to his own side. “Then I don’t ever have to give him my money.”

“You don’t ever have to give him anything at all.”



The fools over at  Trifecta have assigned us the third definition of fool. And I pity the fool who doesn’t rise to the challenge. {ahem. sometimes, the puns will out}


The day after I wrote  the story where a five year old nearly drowns, I lost Sam for twenty minutes in the Tennessee Aquarium. Irony much? Intellectually, I knew there was no way he could get at the tanks. Everything was encased behind a wall of glass, and no child could sneak through those locked doors. But before security found him two floors above me, trying to escape and get to the car, I ran repeatedly past the same spot, each time looking up into two stories of light infused water, expecting to see my son’s green-coated body floating down.


Sorry Lance, Carrie. My entry for the hundred word song is not nearly as chipper as “White Nights”.  I picked up on the  musical intensity and the surreal video with the water and diving at the end. And just to be clear, Sam was fine. He was adamant that because he had known he was safe, I should not have been concerned. Little. Shit.

Dear Armstrong Family

Dear Jon Armstrong and Heather Armstrong:

Don’t worry, I’m not one of those assholes who feels the need to jump Heather’s shit and turn what you are both terming “Recent Events” into a hate fest. I do not blame either of you for the current state of your union, and I do not, in fact, feel like your marriage is any of my goddamned business at all.

But that’s why I’m writing you. Naturally.

I want to talk about this from a fan’s perspective. I follow blurbomat and I feel (although the feeling is false) that I am included in some of your most intimate moments. So as a fan, I reacted with shock when you announced your trial separation. It was a reminder to me of how little I really know about all the bloggers I admire but haven’t met. Up until then, I thought the worst thing going on in your lives was a missed connection during the NYC Marathon. I don’t celebrity watch. I don’t have much interest in actors’ lives outside of what they put on the screen. But I’ve discovered that I follow bloggers’ lives rather closely. It just feels different. (Even though it’s the exact same thing.)

Which is why I became  pretty shamelessly obsessed when your marriage, which I perceived as impenetrable, proved to be merely human. My husband is now sick to death of me evaluating our own relationship for potential cracks, even though there are only a limited number of parallels between your lives and ours. As a reader, I’m infinitely sad. I miss my idea of you.

But as the child of divorced parents, I’m cheering. Oh yeah. You read that right. If, in the course of this separation, you find your way back to being a stronger couple, more power to you. I have seen friends’ marriages survive trial separations and come out more healthy than when they went in. And I have also seen one set of friends run back to each other from a trial separation when they should have run in opposite directions and not stopped. The relationship they returned to was worse than the one they left, and they are still making each other miserable today, some seventeen years and multiple children later.

Mostly, though, ‘trial separation’ is relationship-ese for ‘early stages of divorce’. And, inasmuch as it is none of my business anyway, I’m cool with that. (Yeah, you can now move forward with whatever you need to do, since I’ve given my permission. You’re welcome.) From before I can remember, my parents didn’t get along. They used to have these colossal arguments in a house so small there was nowhere to squabble out of my hearing. The first time they mentioned the D word, I was horrified.

But then, for reasons I can’t fathom, they did not divorce, and I suddenly realized it wasn’t such a bad idea. From the time I was eight years old until I was nineteen, I told them weekly, “Just get a divorce. Everyone will be happier”. Eventually, they did. It was an excellent decision, and they could have spared everybody some thirteen years of agony and just done it when I was six and my sister a newborn.

They were not happy together, and their unhappiness overshadowed a lot of my childhood. So even though I’m saddened as a fan and a reader, I’m also proud of you as a child who watched her parents continue to wound each other well beyond the point when healing was an option.  You are not doing to Leta and Marlo (who I know only as well as I know you, but who I FEEL as though I know like my own kids) what my folks did to me, and that is, quite frankly, admirable.

I’m unsure why my own marriage is so strong, to be honest, when I know a lot more about relationship collapse than stability. I do know this. Things fall apart, and often nobody is guilty and everyone has done something wrong. If there is love there, then fight for it. Fight for each other, and fight for a thing that is rare and true. But if the love is lost, then pull back now, while the friendship can still be saved, before you mindlessly destroy each other.

What you’re doing is hard, and having to go through a uniquely private hell with an audience of thousands has got to be misery. But you are treating each other with respect, even going forward with a project scheduled long ago. Neither of you is taking potshots at the other, even as you both express your grief. That’s not easy, and it takes a level of poise that not many people have. You’re doing what you can to live your lives and protect your children while your relationship is in turmoil. And for that, you have my respect.

I will continue to blog-stalk you and overanalyze every minute development in your Recent Events, but I promise not to do it with a judgmental eye. You are talented bloggers who have both been doing this a whole lot longer than I have. I am watching because I admire you as professionals and people. I want peace for you both, and I hope you achieve something positive even as you struggle with this loss.


A Weird Fan


a flicker of inspiration at Lightning BugI wrote this letter for the prompt over at The Lightning and The Lightning Bug asking us to write a letter to someone we’ve never met. I should note that I write a lot of letters already. Most of them are composed and sent on the computer. When it’s over 500 words long, I think it qualifies as a letter, even if no stationery was harmed in its composition. I understand the thrust of the prompt, to remind people to write real letters, not just terse correspondences. But I think the spirit of the prompt was about content not material usage.