Titles and Tiaras be damned!

So what? I was a beauty queen once upon a time. Somewhere in my mothers attic the box that contains all of my tiaras and crowns and probably a few dried bouquets of roses. So? It doesn’t make me a special person. It doesn’t make me more entitled to anything than anybody else; right?
Now when you’re speaking about people that have green eyes and a rare blood type plus and Rh negative factor and their blood, well that’s a whole different ball game. Welcome to my world of hell and why I have been hunted my whole life basically. The very same way that Meghan Walsh was shopped around as a child and teen, just because of who her father was, I too was attacked for whatever “gift“ my blood contains. Fortunately/unfortunately my blood also has a platelet issue. Which makes my value less than what it would be if it were pure without any medical issue. However, it is pure in the sense that I am not vaccinated for Covid. So I guess that makes me a “Magical pure blood, tiara having, ball gown wearing, fairy godmother“ who just really wants to be able to survive. And would really love a pair of these. What do you think it is?

I have visualized my target. And I know that the sizing of that for this “Queen B” is marvelicious. But, riddle me this- do you know what it is?
In other news…
I still need a new door because jackwagon (my estranged husband) will not replace it despite him doing this.

Do not tell me to decorate it. You might lose a hand.
Anyhow, I’m off to go hide the ever elusive attention whore of an elf on a shelf before the boys get home today. Plan the week of dinner menus only to have them hijacked by DoorDash orders that the teenagers make on their own and on their own dime. Yippee!