LIES I Tell You...ALL LIES!

As you know, the Kingdom has been overrun with a fucking plethora of Swaggers. At first, it was a cute little hobby. However, that cute little hobby soon turned into a great big poo flinging monkey on the back the monarchy.

The entire fucking Kingdom was in jeopardy, so I took matters into my own hands...or hand because one of mine is broken. Adrianna, my my kick-ass bodyguard and I staged an intervention.

For the most part, it worked. However, our beloved, Drunken Queen, would like you to think otherwise. She would like you to believe she got one over on us. She wants you to believe her...uh...less than brilliant bodyguard was actually able to sneak in an IPhone, 2 laptops, and a list of Swagging sites into Swag rehab. She wants you to believe she Swagged in the shitter.

I call bullshit with a side of ugly donkey balls. She was not Swagging.

Check THIS out. Did you see her new, fancy, animated blog header? Did you see the darling little animated heart beating Royal buttons? Did you see the sweet little pop up boxes that say random things when you hover over certain areas of her blog? Yeah...that's what I'm talking about.

The truth is that she was holed up in the goddamn shitter trying to learn new code for her blog. We all know good and goddamn well that the Queen is as blog code stupid as I am. It took weeks for her to learn how to log the fuck in when she first started blogging. Now she wants you to believe that while in Swag-hab she not only Swagged her tits off, but that in her spare time, she also learned and implemented new blog code?

Oh hell no. The jig is up, my lovely Drunken Queen. That gin soaked brain of yours can swag with the best of them. That gin soaked brain can also, apparently, learn new cool blog code tricks. But, there is no way in hell your gin soaked brain can do both at the same time. Your cute little animated, button beating, pop up boxed blog tells the story sweetie.

It's okay Sister dear, your just going through Swag with drawls. Here honey, have another brownie. It will all be okay.

And? Tell that bodyguard of yours to watch her effin back, the REAL bodyguard is looking for her.

Now, I have four episodes of Gossip Girl (fuck you, don't judge me), an ice cold Corona and a fresh baked pan of brownies that demands my attention.
Carry On.