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So when we Flounced on October 8th, I was disappointed for a whole host of reasons.  All of them due to my dashed expectations.  To my mood and my lack of patience.  I still cannot get fake eyelashes on my darn eyes.  That is an exaggeration.  I can do it, IF and only if I have 30 extra minutes to deal with the glue and the placement and the eyeliner and the misery when the glue gets in the rim of my eye and I have to start over from square one.  Plus, add in the fact that I wear contacts and that complicates the mistakes when the glue does seep around past the eyelash base.  Oh you do care about that. I am just telling you to give you one tiny little window into the experience of that night. 

When we arrived at Ellis Square there was a freak show going one.  At least that is how I thought of it, since it not only looked like a carnival sideshow show, but it smelled like one, too.  The eau d’ horses’ urine and the cigarette smoke really destroy the ambiance.  Maybe next flounce I will pack a small travel size Diorissimo or Miss Dior Cheri.  The nosegay from the Victorian era is becoming a concept that I may embrace, now that I think about it…

Anyway, the show included a couple.  A man and a women who were fighting.  Or at least I thought so.  I thought so until I got closer and heard the guy tell the lady (right after he almost hit her and she fell to the ground) to “Just lay there. “  She did.  He told her, “Just lay there and be still. “  She did it some more.  Then she would bounce up and do a Karate Kid kick and they would circle each other sparring and hitting the air.  The she would fall and “just lay there.” 

I start feeling a tad dizzy from the obvious lack of charm that we are surrounded by.  The commoners were not just commoners.  They were extra common,  commoners. 

I love waving to the commoners and they love us, but I have decided Ellis Squareon Saturday night is too much like Bourbon Street.  Too tourista.  So the tourist element, at this time and at this location was not the level of tourist one finds in say…Charleston.  It was the River Street and Bourbon Street level of experience.  Not Royalty worthy.

But to return to the good thing that I am grabbing holt of.  (Yes.  I said it. Grabbin’ Holt of. It is a saying).  The freak show couple was not a really fighting and they were not paid actors.  The producer guy, Chip who come up and told us he was filming in Ellis Square had not hired the Fighting Couple to add color to his film, “Untouched.” After researching his name, I saw on his blog that he had found out the couples’ name and they were just being silly. So I have hope for his film. 

The Fighting Couple was completely on their own. They were free agents acting out their own peculiar fantasy in the middle of Ellis Square, just like the MJQs were.  So when I critique the fantasy, which I love doing by the way, all I can say is this, “Be Royal.  Wear chiffon. Spread Joy.  If you can’t do all three, do one of them. What are y’all spreading?” Looked to me like they were just spreading cra-zee….

A Flounce and Tiara Time on Saturday is a much deserved break from the everyday.  Good-ness, I need that…Plus Mary’s photo shoot and maybe the Jr mints photo…

This Membership Directory and Calendar project is going to be wonderful. I hope.

So the Membership Project is continuing in a way I am surprised about.  Actually I am so cynical I am not that surprised, but frankly I had expected a little more enthusiasm.  Just a really teeny tiny small bit more. But that requires buy-in and buckets of Royal energy of which, we as a group are suffering from a shortage.  Oh well, we do have a core group.  Thank God for that! 

The core group of outrageous, laughing, joyous MGQs will represent in Savannah. Represent-Represent Represent-Savannah!  Of 30 MJQs, we have 7 who will be attending the flounce on Saturday.  They will bring 5 Jr. Mints. Mary will have her photo made and we will get on the trolley. A few Core group members will miss it, and are deeply saddened that they are not available.  (If you are a Fun Queen, a Key Queen, or part of Core group, you know who you are. Wink Wink nudge-nudge. This blog post is not about you, dear.) 

The excuses I have heard remind me of the party Leslie Ballenger designed the invitation for way back in 2006 I believe it was.  The “Not a Good Time of Year to have a party, Party.”  Then, as now I find the same problems and the same success.  I have found out over the years who loves being a Queen and who does not!  I have seen people stay in the group for years and not attend a thing. (I have had one dear Queen TRY to quit because she felt she did not fit in and was too busy, but I am too selfish to let her quit.  So I paid her dues and she is in.)

I have discovered who is always willing to try something fun (Dottie) and who will rain on the parade.  I have learned what excuses people rely on to avoid doing anything.  And unfortunately, I have learned that no matter what balance of cash value the Treasury has in the Royal Bank, we need more cash. 

Thankfully, I would write a check everyday of the week for a chance to laugh, so donning a tiara and chiffon is a priceless experience and I am truly fortunate to have the disposable income to throw at the evening.  Hell-o!  It is really a bargain.  For a mere One hundred dollars I can plan a Queens’ event.

So even though we have a dues requirement, (which I wish we had not even put into place), I have learned that you can spend thousands on a party or nothing on a party and the level of success in totally, completely, utterly, irrevocably, (any more -ly words?) linked to the level of enthusiasm of the Attending Queens.  So having seen that, I challenge each MJQ (each Queen Who frankly my dear, Gives a damn) to find one human being…preferably female, who possesses a deep vein of joy and energy and loves being Royal. 

I want at least 5 new MQS by next year, but I have always asked for that and it does not happen.  Why?  Because you have to have that sparkle to see it in others.  You have to CULTIVATE that in yourself or it will wither and die.  If You really start thinking that you can’t possibly be seen in a costume dress out in public, because “What would people think?”   When you start being concerned about what people think when you are simply having a tad bit bit of innocent fun, then just close the coffin, honey.  Close the damn coffin!  It is over. Or at least, your love of youth, innocence, frivolity and swishing about in great skirts of happiness is over.   Close the coffin on your reign as Queen.    

Now you may say, “Queen Erica, You sound like you are being too critical of people who have found their joy somewhere else.  They have other demands.  Other interests.  Other Friends. Maybe the MJQs are just not fun for them. What is the matter with that?’ 

My answer, dear one, is, “That is the point!”   They HAVE found their joy with other interests and other friends.  If the MJQs never see you and you never participate, why are you in this group?  If it is not fun?  What are you doing?  The core group will party on with or without those missing Queens, but why pretend to care?  Why even be in the group at all?  Become a retired Queen.  Label yourself a sustain-er. 

But if you tell me you are a member, and I plan a get together, I figure you might, (right around the time hell is cooling off a few degrees,) you might grace us with your presence and then some of the younger Key Queens will come up to me at the party and ask “Who is that lady over there?  Is SHE a Queen?  I have never seen her.”   We have a hand full of ladies who never come to anything. EVER.  If we have not seen you at an event in a 2 years period…you are too busy.  If you have not attended a flounce in 3-4 years, you need to retire.  I am not your mother and I will not just kick you out of the group.  That is not my job. 

Which brings me to the one of the myriad of reasons the Membership Directory is in need.  If you claim to be a Queen, you at the very least should know who the other queens are.  Maybe not know their darn NAME.  That would be asking too much.  But you should be able to look over at someone and know that they are a member of our group. So if you never attend a function, you are required, (Yes, I said It!)  Required to participate this year when we plan a photo shoot for YOU. So your darn picture can be in the directory. Crazy as it seems. 

And no!  Do not hire your own photographer.  This is NOT a competition to see who can take the best photo.  That is one thing we do not do: Compete with each other.  It is not going to be at your home. I have hired someone to do all the images so it will have a cohesive look and we will not get into competitive photography.  It will be in Public Downtown, or goodness maybe at Tybee (and definitely at Wormsloe because Emma called it first.)

(opps. ) I feel another rant coming on.  On the nature of female relationships and the combative thread that all people innately possess and the one-ups-manship and how we need to stop trying to out-do each other. Stop trying to be the top dog and compete on every darn thing in every location in every moment, in the world and in our community and at schools…And why do I have to send out 4 emails?  FOUR to get people to RSVP and some still have not Responded.  Really.  If I mail an invitation the same thing happens.  Mail OR email; it is the same story.  So how do I plan a party if I can not get a proper count of who is in and who is out? 

I think we need 60 damn Queens so we will have a core group of 20 who can a party at any given time.  20 is a good number for a party downtown and to get 20 in attendance, we need 60 MJQs. And where in the world do we find 30 more queens to join.  This is not the Ya-Yas or the Sweet Potatoes. Hell-o! They only had a core group of 5 or 6 . AND the Ya-Yas where are all fictional friends and do were the Sweet Potato Queens. That is mission impossible right there.  This is crazy that you can’t find enough great Royalty lovers to be part of this.Enough friends who enjoy this kind of thing.  Darn they do not have to even BE friends.  Just ladies who like being silly.  How many times to you have to go over this stuff?  You are like a dog with a bone.  Just let it be what it is.  What it is.  Be what it is…opps.  This rant is beginning to give me a tad bit of headache.  I better stop now and have a cup of something. Something to calm my nerves.  Tea?  Sure. It is rather early in the morning. Tea will have to do. Big Rants are always followed by Tea. Or a martini, I forget which…

3 drinks (AKA $45.oo dollars worth of drinks, not counting tips), toast flouncing.)

November 30th the MJQs met at The Mansion on Forsyth Park for drinks.  Again, I was less than impressed with the service or lack there of at this 4 star wanna be. If you need the space to have a function downtown, then I suppose this location will fill the bill, but if for some strange reason you long for a Southern experience in the style that represents the best of hospitality, good taste, and of what makes Savannah a destination, better rethink your choices.

I will stick to my very limited dealings with the place and its staff.  Last April we had cocktails at The McMansion and we were met with surly service. Not a single smile or “thank you” was uttered as we shelled out 16.00 for a single glass of wine poured into a cheap glass 2.00 stem. At the time, I chalked it up to Crown Envy, a little known syndrome of the type one witnesses from certain women that are temporarily blinded by jewels in some one’s hair. You don’t believe me? Put on a tiara and watch. A handful of ladies give you the disappoving you-r-such-a-harlot stare. Others will ask, “Where in the world did you find your cute tiara.?” So, since the wenches behind the bar were…well…wenches, their sour attitudes were ignored by us.  Now back to our recent expereinces at The McM. 

The poor barkeep that met us Friday evening was totally over-whelmed by a flow of females asking for wine, Cosmopolitans, and Mint Juleps. Honey, the bar was almost dead with about 8 folks already served when the first group of ladies approached. During the 45 minutes I stood at the bar waiting for a drink, this pitiful lad struggled with every concoction.  It took me 45 minutes to get my first drink.  I was never even acknowledged or greeted.

Three ladies had to flounce upstairs to get their drinks since they had waited so long. Lucky for me someone else was able to get his attention and procure the julep for me.  Now, the julep was so bad I almost gave it back to him, but frankly I was suffering from absolute dehydration and I decided I would never get another drink so I kept it.  The little pseudo-drink was, from what I could figure a concoction of ginger ale, bourbon, sugar, mint leaves and huge lime wedge perched atop the glass. Yuck.  More like a little punch.  In the future, I suppose I must resort to ordering bourbon and water, a side of mint, and a packet of Dixie Crystal that I stir in myself. I was at this bar for 2 hours and never offered another drink or even spoken to by anyone behind the bar.

Now you may ask if I have eaten at the Mcmansion? No dear heart, I have not.  I am not talking about their food or “dining experience.”  Wait.  I did attend a big gala that was catered by the McMansion. Does that count?  The food was horrible and pretentious. The wine glasses were hot, fresh out of the dishwasher.  The funniest food item they served was some mashed potato thing in a martini glass with a port wine  reduction, (AKA gravy) and shredded cheese. I know this event was a fund-raiser and the non-profit that booked the location was not wlling to shell out the ten prices needed to make a decent table of nibbles. 

Way on up in NYC, The Waldorf-Astoria, Tao, and The W all have friendly service, nicer stemware, better drinks and, here’s the shocker…similar bar prices to the McMansion. Never the less, when faced with adversity, we , The MJQs absolutely make the best of a challenging situation and rise to the occasion. We yuck it up, flounce a little, and smile real pretty for pictures so it did not ruin our time.  In fact, we had a blast drinking over- priced wine. miniature Cosmos, and bad Juleps. Then some of us went on to dinner at Wally’s Six Pence Pub, crowned our waitress, and devoured a darn good burger.  Next time though, I really don’t think we will congregate at The McMansion. Alligator Soul or the Mercury Lounge will likely be the location of choice:)

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Have you ever been introduced to someone that seems utterly annoyed by the minimal effort it will take to say “Hello. Nice to see you”? They hold out a limp wristed hand and grasp your fingers as though they might be risking some bodily fluid contamination.  Then the charmer gives you a look as if some odious fragance is wafting by them, and you, my dear are the culprit.  I  had such an unpleasant and frankly confusing moment recently. 

I admit that I have my own challenges with social introductions.  I think most of us do.  When I meet new people I immediately forget their names and must ask them again, but I try to smile cheerfuly and give them a firm handshake with the ritual greeting, “Nice to meet you” or “Lovely to see you”.   Some well-meaning men that I have met, will crush my fingers  into my ring and I believe the pulsing pain is to blame for my absent mindedly forgetting who they are.  When I catch my breath, I ask for their name, again.  

So this is the situation. At a recent gathering, a friend met me and my husband with a sweet “Hey. How-you?” and then with gandioise sweep of hand toward her friend , “I am sure ya’ll have met Mitzey. Ya’ll know Mitzey Smith?” To whom, I offered smile and outstretched hand.  “I am sure we have met at some party.  So good to see you. “  Then whammm. Let the snobbery begin. She gave me a look-down-her-nose aloof, pompous expression paired with the floppy, limp handshake. “Good to see you,” was forced from a sneer. She promptly turned on her heel and walked away. Later, I actually asked my husband if he had been shown the same lifeless, hauty greeting.  I wondered outloud if it was at all possible if we could have done something to offend this person.  He felt that our offense was merely taking up some of her airspace and occupying the same patch of carpet as she.  Maybe a larger person would not have been bothered. I can’t do it.  I would be fake and insincere to say I wasn’t angry. Honey, I was madder than a bee in a bonnet.  Plus I know I would have had a different experience had I genuflected more effectively. “Smith?  Is that The Smith’s of Savannah Canned Peach fame?  Oh my gracious!  It is so nice to finally meet you!  May I please kiss your ring?”

In Letitia Baldrige’s Complete Guide to a Great Social Life, the author plainly advises, “Be nice to everyone you meet, not just people you have heard described as important.” It is the wise thing to do.  However Vanity Fair author William Makepeace Thackeray admitted that “It is impossible, in our conditon of Society, not to be sometimes a Snob. “  I agree with both points.  I have the ability to be a snoot, but during a common introduction and unprovoked,  I hope not. The “Be nice/Play nice” edict that millions of mothers have taught their children to apply in the playground is pretty easy to use.  

I can imagine someting like this.  Some poor soul introduces her friend to me at a party.  “Erica, let me introduce you to Crystalle.  Crystalle is my third husband’s baby mama.  She and the baby been staying with me ever since her boyfriend got busted at a meth lab that was in the trailer next door. You know that sorry ex of mine don’t give her no money for the baby, so she’s working night shift at the Circle K.   Crystalle ’s helping me pay for that flat screen I just got at Bes’ Buy.”   

Would I turn up my nose in horror?  No. I’d probably say something like this. “Crystalle,  I am so glad to meet you.  Sounds like you’re having quite a time. Honey, if you need a good attorney, I bet I could find one to help you get some child support.  Do you work at that Circle K on White Bluff?  They got the best Blue Raspberry Icee in town. Oh, and I am curious. Which do you like better, plasma or high-def?”