Not to Worry

We know you all were terribly worried at our absence, and we are glad you missed us. Do not be alarmed, however, we were merely unwell for a short period of time. We had a sudden attack of sass, you see. It came out of nowhere and just hit us like a truck, or a large quadruped. Quite dreadful, as we were only capable of lying about, quipping at everyone and everything. Luckily, there were no foreign dignitaries visiting, therefore my realm did not suffer because of my unwellness.

Fare thee well for another week,

Supreme BitchQueen of the Universe, Femnazi Extraordinairre.

Can't stay long

It's dreadful. We are only able to stop for a moment to tell you we can't stop - you see, we sneezed during a trade meeting with the next universe over and when we sneezed our hands flailed in such a way that the trade ambassadors were highly offended. They declared war on the spot. This is bad. WE NEED OUR POLYGLOT WHERE IS OUR POLYGLOT? BRING THE KOREAN AMBASSADOR TOO, MAYBE SHE HAS DIPLOMACY INSIGHTS HURRY! Padisha can knit me a hat so I don't get cold.


harried and worried (and hurried)
Jenna, Supreme BitchQueen of the Universe and Femnazi Extraordinaire

In Which Her Imperial Awesomeness is Accepting Applications

Dearly beloved subjects, we are here today to join you together with the knowledge that we are feeling our solitude a bit keenly. Therefore, we are searching for a consort! We have all the typical criteria: attractive, healthy, not brainwashed to assassinate us in our sleep, quick-witted, intelligent, and possessed of no ambition whatsoever. We want a man that looks pretty, talks nice, doesn't get all stabby with the knives at dinner, and will not attempt to take our throne. If you or anyone you know fits the profile, contact us! We will conduct interviews, and contrary to earlier such searches, we will not execute unworthy applicants. What can we say, we are feeling saucy.

Sincerely, Supreme BitchQueen of the Universe, Femnazi Extraordinairre, Gracious Tyrant, Wildcat in the bedroom, etc. etc.

In Which Her Gracious Majesty Separates The Combatants

We arrived in time to hear what could be the start of a disturbance between our most honorable Duchess of Adorable Puppy Eyes and our celebrated Padisha Boom Boom, Friend To Cats. While we understand that we must have diversity in our Corset Mafia, and furthermore we understand that our Duchess of Puppy Eyes cannot always control the facets of her, shall we say, animal nature, and our Friend To Cats is marked by her affection for the very creatures the Duchess is instinctively against, we must have peace. We cannot bring peace to our peoples if we have not peace within our own house. We are, therefore, calling for a preemptive cease-fire on the possible hostilities that may or may not arise. That is an official order.

No apology necessary.

If we were a person of lesser importance, we would apologize for not posting on our designated day. But we are not that person so you can just shush and meditate on our awesomeness while you wait for words like pearls to drop from our lips. Except then you would wonder why we had a mouthful of pearls in the first place, and why we would attempt to speak with a mouthful of hardened oyster mucous, and would the pearls not be coated in our royal saliva and therefore be rendered drippy and sticky and disgusting? And after all this ruminating, yours on our pearl conundrum, and ours on . . .well, pearls in our royal mouth, you would forget what we had tried to tell you while we had said mouthful of pearls, and we would therefore be upset at your dreadful display of distraction whilst WE were talking. So we are not going to say anything. Because you were very rude to us. But we are forgiving, and perhaps by next week we would be willing to speak to you again.

Until then, we remain,
Jenna, Supreme BitchQueen of the Universe and Femnazi Extraordinaire.

Greetings, Beloved Subjects : Being an introduction to her Majesty

Indeed my loyal peoples, it is Us, your sovereign, Supreme BitchQueen of the Universe. We have decided to take today, the Day of Thor's, as Our day to speak to you in an informal and comfortable way. As an aside - do you suppose Lord Thor would be upset that We have commandeered his day, so to speak? Ah, well. Even ancient deities must make concessions for the Ruler of the Universe. Note, We are merely the ruler of this universe, not the multiverse. We are more than busy presiding over all sassery, snarkism, bitchiosity, and attitudeness in this one -verse, thank you, and do not wish to extend our rule and responsibility.
We would like to mention the other members of our Cabinet, heretofore known as our Corset Mafia, that are unable to contribute.
Firstly is our Secretary of Whoopah!, Count Sir Mixalot Bethany, and her daughter, Kiwi, Archprincess of Mood Swings. As you see, my dearest subjects, We must delegate Our tasks. Our rule is a very difficult thing, and it takes up much more time than even We have in a day. We are eminently grateful to Our Tsarina Dinosauress Amy, Designated Polyglot, Minister of Silly Walks, and Keeper of Fake Accents, her discovery of Lucy, Director of Bellyrubs, Korean Ambassador, Duchess of Adorable Puppy Eyes, and of course We thank Our Padisha Boom-boom Katie of Yarnia, Keeper of the Sacred Yarn Ball and Friend to Cats. Without our distinguished Corset Mafia, our rule would crumble into chaos.
Ah - our duties call. We will write again next Thor's Day and acquaint you with more details of our rule.


Until then We remain, Jenna, Supreme BitchQueen of the Universe and Femnazi Extraordinaire.