Another day, another fabulous set of donors to my March for Dimes charity walk. You all are so fabulous, in fact, that I'm only $55 away from my $1,000 goal. I've already had to change the goal twice, but I'll feel good about Our Collective Effort when we hit $1k.
If you haven't donated already, will you be my $55 Kate Middleton? Or my two $27.50 Sonny & Cher? Or my three $18.34 Destiny's Child group members?
We begin with my sister Amy. Amy donated to the walk, so long as I donated to her charity cause, Pennies for Patients, because Amy and I are both fans of helping Sick Children(tm). She is doing this with her 4th grade class at school. I love Amy's 4th grade class, because they provide lots of entertaining stories. Some favorites:
So Amy will be the only "royal" that only holds an unofficial title: Her Royal Hotness, Pippa Middleton. I've never checked out Amy's butt, per se, but I assume it is nice.
Pippa also looked nice at Prince George's Christening. I've never thrown a christening, because I don't have children, but I assume that if I dressed my cats up in christening gowns, Amy would dress as stylish and appropriately as Pippa did.
Next is Brooke. Here's how I know Brooke: ten years ago, my now-husband met a guy named Brent playing "Medal of Honor" on the internet, back when only nerds met on the internet. I'm being serious about this: they had a LAN party and everything. Then Brent met Brooke on the internet when meeting people on the internet was more socially acceptable. Brent & Brooke did not have a LAN party; they had a wedding (which I guess is still a type of party). Then Brent & Chris held their breath as they introduced us, because OMG what if we hated each other?
But we didn't. Brooke is like a sister, even though she lives in Georgia and I'm in Virginia. We text each other every day, have each other's backs, we both like Vineyard Vines and nachos. You know, all of the important things. Brooke has a timeless elegance about her. The aforementioned wedding was a small, classy affair at The Plaza in New York. And I'm very jealous of all the time Brooke gets to spend in London. I am not jealous of all the time she spends in Tallahassee and Hartford (she travels a lot for work).
Fellow royalist Beckie suggested that Brooke should be the fabulous, jewel-encrusted Queen Maxima. A good choice. However, there's a better one: Princess Madeleine of Sweden. Madeleine studied in London, went to school in New York, and even married a British-born New Yorker. Mads also knows how to rock the Swedish tiaras and whatnot, but without being too flashy.
My best friend Debbie donated under her husband's name, presumably because she hates attention, and doesn't like to be too girly, and doesn't want to be compared to some tiara clad fashion plate. Too bad, Debbie, because I have the perfect royal for you. I love Debbie, because she doesn't take any crap, and even though she's about the same size as your average fifth grader, she could totally kill you with her bony elbows. Her husband, Greg, is an Real Life Rocket Scientist, but actually has social skills and common sense! He's also an author. Most importantly, Debbie and Greg are two people I consider on par with my level of hilarity, and that's a high compliment indeed. Greg was the only person Chris and I trusted to do justice to our wedding reading, The Day the Saucers Came. Good job, Greg.
At any rate, their unconventional-ness makes them the Jordanian royals. Queen Rania always has a look about her like "do I REALLY have to be here doing this stupid event?" And when she wears a tiara, it's always a bracelet (i.e. small) tiara. It's her way of saying "I'm supposed to wear a tiara, so here's the very least I could do. Now I will kill you all with MY bony elbows."
Rania's husband is King Abdullah II, who I picked because he lists football and science fiction among his interests, which are two interests of Greg's. (He also lists sky diving and rally racing as interests, so get cracking, Greg!)
I was so excited that Kelley donated because I wanted to write about her. Kelley is funnier than I am, ya'll. She infrequently blogs over at The Lundscape--you should check out her post on Canadian money. We will not give Kelley any guff about her infrequent updates, because as a blogger myself, sometimes it's just all too much to clothe and feed yourself, and then write about it. The struggle is REAL.
If you need a singer-dancer-Realtor, Kelley is full service. She helped my sister buy her place, when my sister was under a bit of duress. (Duress = finding out you're moving out of the house you've rented for a decade when a different Realtor shows up to list it.) But Kelley made the House Search from Hell fun, even when the seller was being Dick. No seriously, his name was Dick. And he was one. And then she gave Amy a Lowe's gift card, which is more than MY Realtor did (you hear that, Jim?!) which is why Kelley is now my Realtor. I'm in it for the gift cards.
Kelley is so fabulous and can rock a flapper dress and ball gown with equal panache, so SHE'S the magpie of them all here: Queen Maxima. Max wears some truly crazy shit, but she looks fantastic in it. Case in point: during her husband's coronation, she busted out this giant tiara, and wore a mother-effin' cape. A CAPE. And she looked amazing.
Then she did it again when she was the guest at a wedding. I'm so glad I didn't invite her to mine. Upstaged much?
And again, last but not least is my Uncle Ron. Or as I call him: Un-Ron. Un-Ron is a retired pilot, and is calm and collected in all situations. When he would tell me stories about times he almost died while flying a plane, he would say they were "interesting." For example: "and then we landed on black ice in New Mexico, the plane almost slid off the runway, and it was...interesting."
Un-Ron gets me, because he's the younger child, and I was the younger child in a house full of First Borns. He gave me one of my favorite toys that I had growing up: Amelia Bearhart. So adorable. (Mine was red & yellow instead of purple & pink.)
Because he's a pilot, a gentlemen, and always watches out for me, Un-Ron is Prince William. A true prince among men, if ever there was one.
Thank you again, fabulous donors! And remember, it's not too late to be a fabulous donor yourself--only $55 more to go.
If you haven't donated already, will you be my $55 Kate Middleton? Or my two $27.50 Sonny & Cher? Or my three $18.34 Destiny's Child group members?
We begin with my sister Amy. Amy donated to the walk, so long as I donated to her charity cause, Pennies for Patients, because Amy and I are both fans of helping Sick Children(tm). She is doing this with her 4th grade class at school. I love Amy's 4th grade class, because they provide lots of entertaining stories. Some favorites:
- I came in to help grade papers and such, and they thought I was Amy's daughter.
- One of her students made a newspaper about the civil war for an assignment, and had a fashion section (as I'm sure all civil war papers did) about the season's newest look: Hobo Chic. This student grew up to be Johnny Weir. (Just kidding. But he does have a hilarious blog.)
- This week, one student tried to cheer another student up by putting his lunch down his pants and eating it. Yum?
- Amy's cafeteria sells an item called Crispy Chicken on Bun. Amy and I are fascinated with it. I did a cross stitch of Crispy Chicken on Bun for Amy, and she holds it up every time it's a lunch choice. Although now it is apparently Crispy Chicken on Whole Wheat Bun with pickle. Damn nutritionists.
So Amy will be the only "royal" that only holds an unofficial title: Her Royal Hotness, Pippa Middleton. I've never checked out Amy's butt, per se, but I assume it is nice.
Pippa also looked nice at Prince George's Christening. I've never thrown a christening, because I don't have children, but I assume that if I dressed my cats up in christening gowns, Amy would dress as stylish and appropriately as Pippa did.
Next is Brooke. Here's how I know Brooke: ten years ago, my now-husband met a guy named Brent playing "Medal of Honor" on the internet, back when only nerds met on the internet. I'm being serious about this: they had a LAN party and everything. Then Brent met Brooke on the internet when meeting people on the internet was more socially acceptable. Brent & Brooke did not have a LAN party; they had a wedding (which I guess is still a type of party). Then Brent & Chris held their breath as they introduced us, because OMG what if we hated each other?
But we didn't. Brooke is like a sister, even though she lives in Georgia and I'm in Virginia. We text each other every day, have each other's backs, we both like Vineyard Vines and nachos. You know, all of the important things. Brooke has a timeless elegance about her. The aforementioned wedding was a small, classy affair at The Plaza in New York. And I'm very jealous of all the time Brooke gets to spend in London. I am not jealous of all the time she spends in Tallahassee and Hartford (she travels a lot for work).
Fellow royalist Beckie suggested that Brooke should be the fabulous, jewel-encrusted Queen Maxima. A good choice. However, there's a better one: Princess Madeleine of Sweden. Madeleine studied in London, went to school in New York, and even married a British-born New Yorker. Mads also knows how to rock the Swedish tiaras and whatnot, but without being too flashy.
My best friend Debbie donated under her husband's name, presumably because she hates attention, and doesn't like to be too girly, and doesn't want to be compared to some tiara clad fashion plate. Too bad, Debbie, because I have the perfect royal for you. I love Debbie, because she doesn't take any crap, and even though she's about the same size as your average fifth grader, she could totally kill you with her bony elbows. Her husband, Greg, is an Real Life Rocket Scientist, but actually has social skills and common sense! He's also an author. Most importantly, Debbie and Greg are two people I consider on par with my level of hilarity, and that's a high compliment indeed. Greg was the only person Chris and I trusted to do justice to our wedding reading, The Day the Saucers Came. Good job, Greg.
At any rate, their unconventional-ness makes them the Jordanian royals. Queen Rania always has a look about her like "do I REALLY have to be here doing this stupid event?" And when she wears a tiara, it's always a bracelet (i.e. small) tiara. It's her way of saying "I'm supposed to wear a tiara, so here's the very least I could do. Now I will kill you all with MY bony elbows."
Rania's husband is King Abdullah II, who I picked because he lists football and science fiction among his interests, which are two interests of Greg's. (He also lists sky diving and rally racing as interests, so get cracking, Greg!)
I was so excited that Kelley donated because I wanted to write about her. Kelley is funnier than I am, ya'll. She infrequently blogs over at The Lundscape--you should check out her post on Canadian money. We will not give Kelley any guff about her infrequent updates, because as a blogger myself, sometimes it's just all too much to clothe and feed yourself, and then write about it. The struggle is REAL.
If you need a singer-dancer-Realtor, Kelley is full service. She helped my sister buy her place, when my sister was under a bit of duress. (Duress = finding out you're moving out of the house you've rented for a decade when a different Realtor shows up to list it.) But Kelley made the House Search from Hell fun, even when the seller was being Dick. No seriously, his name was Dick. And he was one. And then she gave Amy a Lowe's gift card, which is more than MY Realtor did (you hear that, Jim?!) which is why Kelley is now my Realtor. I'm in it for the gift cards.
Kelley is so fabulous and can rock a flapper dress and ball gown with equal panache, so SHE'S the magpie of them all here: Queen Maxima. Max wears some truly crazy shit, but she looks fantastic in it. Case in point: during her husband's coronation, she busted out this giant tiara, and wore a mother-effin' cape. A CAPE. And she looked amazing.
Then she did it again when she was the guest at a wedding. I'm so glad I didn't invite her to mine. Upstaged much?
And again, last but not least is my Uncle Ron. Or as I call him: Un-Ron. Un-Ron is a retired pilot, and is calm and collected in all situations. When he would tell me stories about times he almost died while flying a plane, he would say they were "interesting." For example: "and then we landed on black ice in New Mexico, the plane almost slid off the runway, and it was...interesting."
Un-Ron gets me, because he's the younger child, and I was the younger child in a house full of First Borns. He gave me one of my favorite toys that I had growing up: Amelia Bearhart. So adorable. (Mine was red & yellow instead of purple & pink.)
Because he's a pilot, a gentlemen, and always watches out for me, Un-Ron is Prince William. A true prince among men, if ever there was one.
Thank you again, fabulous donors! And remember, it's not too late to be a fabulous donor yourself--only $55 more to go.