You Can Take the Princess Out of the Night Club, But ...

And, then, My Dear Subjects, there was my sister.

I cannot for the life of me understand why I am surrounded by so many idiots ... I mean creative individuals!

Princess Q (that would be Quanda, but from an early age, that was too much for her to say on a regular basis). Yes. Indeed.

Princess Q graciously traveled from holiday in Tahiti to her Glorious Niece and Serene Highness Princess Sierra Myst's baptism. Yea!

No, really. Yea!

Maybe it was the snide comments she made about my doddering ... I mean dashing husband. Does she think I do not know who I married? Maybe it was the hot pink cami she wore to the Royal Temple. And, that coral lip gloss. Did we spring from the same mother? Maybe it was the drunken, blonde model she brought to the festivities. At one point the Royal Guard had to drag his a-- ... him out of the Holy Reflection Pool. Where does she find these guys? OK he did have a nice a-- ... demeanor, but really.

I know she dropped out of Yale. And Oxford. And Princeton. And USC. And the Culinary Institute, but surely she has a modicum of at least common sense!

I will admit that she got on my last nerve when she started sniping about the pork medallions. Like she did not flunk proteins at the Institute. All right, so I decked her. My hormones are still raging. I apologized. Through my PO (Protocol Officer).

Discipline is an art!