It's A Wrap

Yes, it's sad but true. The...

comes to an end tonight. Oh quit sniveling, goddamnit. We well be back with the usual Royal shenanigans as soon as everyone is unpacked, showered, and had some time to regroup.

We had one hell of a good time. If for some reason, though I can't think of any, you missed a part in the Royal Road Trip, head over to The Queen's Castle . On her left side bar is a list of our stories from the road. She put it in a neat little package, all in order and shit, for you asshats to enjoy. I know, right??? Who knew the Queen was such a damn techi!

Truth is, we finally drank the bus dry and she had a sober moment. That scared all of us and we turned the bus around, and headed for home. FAST!

Today is Dame Penis Platter's birthday. Hop over and give her some love, and Southern Comfort.

And finally? Yes, Willie Nelson was just arrested for possession of pot on Friday. Let's just say, I fucking TOLD him to avoid Texas. All my exes live there, and nothing good ever comes of that.

You Knew We'd End Up Here

The next obvious stop in the...

is.....



This was all the Queen's doing. You see, the Queen has a thing for cowboys and things that are shiny. As we were passing through Vegas on our way to California, our drunken leader saw this...


The Queen let out a "YEEHAW!!", and before we could grab her, she was out of the bus and shimmying her way up the pole to the lighted Cowboy of her dreams.

At that point, we all knew we'd be here a while. However, this proved to be a lucrative stop because there is no better place for a rolling bus full of hookers, than fabulous Las Vegas.

While the ladies were setting up the Rolling Pleasure Palace, I decided to try my hand at some slots. That's when it happened.

I got the "fever" playing the "Wheel of Fortune" dollar slots. I think they pump inaudible hypnotic suggestions over the casino floor that say "feed me bitch, feed me, feed me over and over again. That way you either go to the goddamn buffet or throw another hundred-dollar bill into a dollar slot machine.

I couldn't seem to leave this one Wheel of Fortune machine. It had some kind of hold on me. I just kept playing, waiting to hear "WHEEL....OF....FORTUNE!", and spin for the big money win.

I found myself talking out loud using gambling terms. I'd hit that "max bet" button and yell, "Baby needs new shoes." "Momma needs to pay the rent." and "Forum Shops! I will make you my bitch!"

No matter how much cigar smoke wafted over me from the octogenarian who was plugged in to the slot machine on my right, I wasn't leaving my goddamn machine. (I was due for a win, I could feel it.)

She started getting a little pissed with me when I kept yelling, "Grandma needs the goddamn patch!"

I think she gave me the finger. It was a little bent and crooked, but it definitely resembled the finger.

It was at this moment that a couple stumbled up to the machine on my left. They looked like poster children for Wal-Mart.

He had a tee shirt with a black motorcycle vest over it, blue jeans, long hair, a moustache and a goatee. She had the hair, moustache and goatee and jeans but no tee shirt, just the black vest.

It's 8:30 in the morning and they're both drunk. Viva Las Vegas, baby!

He was slurring over and over again that he needed to "FUCKING EAT!!!!" and wandered off. She somehow managed to stick a twenty into the slot machine.

Of course her machine let out a "WHEEL....OF....FORTUNE!!!" on her very first fucking pull. She leans back to look up at the wheel spinning around and just as the wheel stops on one hundred dollars, she passes out with her head tilted back and her mouth wide open.

With a cigarette hanging from her mouth.

It was just hanging there. Kind of stuck on her goddamn lip.

I was tempted to use her mouth as an ashtray but I'm sure the elderly bitchy cigar queen on my right would rat me out.

It was at this moment that I noticed the tattoo on the passed out woman's left tit. I wasn't intentionally looking at her left boob, but it was sticking out of that black vest taking a look around for fuck sake.

On her left tit was a tattoo of Captain America.

Which is odd....

Flipping the bird.

Also odd....

Pointed at me.

Um.... Not so odd.

I've now been flipped off by the tit of passed out trailer trash on my left and "old mother cigar breath" on my right.

Yes, bring the kids; Las Vegas is fun for the whole fucking family.

And then "it" happened.

I hit the.....

"WHEEL OF FORTUNE!!!"

THAT WHEEL STARTED SPINNING!!!

ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS BABY!!!!!!

WOOOOOHOOOOO!!!!

I TOLD YOU I WAS DUE!!!!

I cash out the machine and grab my ticket.

"Smoke this grandma!!! Hey bitch, tuck that in, you'll poke someone's eye out with that thing."

I'm a motherfucking winner.

Las Vegas survived a visit from the Royals, but it may never be the same. Maybe the others will yell you their Vegas story, but sometimes, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas....

Tornadoes, A Bus and A Birthday

First of all, I have something to clarify. YES, ASSCLOWNS, I KNOW DUTCHESS IS REALLY SPELLED DUCHESS! I'm a drunk stoner, not stupid! Lot's of names sound the same and are spelled different.
Wendy - Wendi
Georgia - Jorja
Ginger - Jinjer
You get the point.
I like spelling Dutchess. It's slightly off center, unique, odd, and wrong. Sounds like it fits me to a tee...or tea. And? IT'S MY FUCKING BLOG AND I CAN DO WHAT I WANT. KAPISH?

Good. Now, on with tonight's installment of "Tales from the Road".



This heavy duty drunken drug fest aboard the Insane Hooker Bus would be enough to send Whitney, I'm a fucking crack ho and I like it, Houston running to rehab.

Add a huge family birthday bash for the Spawn of Satan, a 2 year old no nap asshole stuck to me like flies on shit, tornado sirens, (which BTW, Mother nature, it is No-fucking-vember you bitch. Enough already!) hail plopping down on my new fucking mustang, an ice sculpting contest and a motherfucking cat fight. Know what you get?



After a few drinks, Xanax, and a fat doobie, all was right with the world and we were back on the road.

Then, we stumbled upon this sign

Of course we took the damn exit. And hoo boy! The girls got excited when we saw this next


As we crept around the bend, we found it....the Motherland.

We piled off of the bus and went to the nearest bar where we engaged in karaoke, dancing on tables, and a cherry stem knotting contest. I was running out of steam, and headed back to the bus for some much needed alone time. That's when I noticed something strange going on.





The hell? The motherfucking bus was being invaded!

*kcshhhhhhk*Houston, we have a Pussy problem.*kcshhhhhhk*

I sprinted ....ok, assholes, I walked, back to the goddamn bar to inform the Queen about the Pussy invasion. The drunk bitch had obviously been slipped a ruffie. All I could get out of her was..."Pussies? The more the merrier! Let them on the bus~"

Let's just say that the pussies are out of control and, the Royal vet says they have eaten a good portion of our best stash.


Personally? I think the Pussy Patrol is up to something more sinister than eating out premium pot. I've seen some pretty suspicious and disturbing things the past couple days...

Now, I may or may not be a touch paranoid from all of the Mary Jane we've consumed on this road trip. However, I'm beginning to I think the little pussies are either planning a coupe, or they are some kind of invasion of the Body snatcher-ET phone home motherfuckers, and they are training to take over the Royal family.

What say you, Internet?

Bitches, Bra's, and Brownies

Hiya people. Dutchess here to give you the 411 and our current 10/20 before we jack it up and head it on down the line to continue ...

Copy that good buddy, come back?

Wait, you are not my CB radio. Dammit. OOOhhhh!!!!!GODDAMNIT! STOP STOMPING ON THE FUCKING BREAKS! The Queen was drunk when she hired the new bus driver. He may very well kill us all.

Anyway, everything is pretty fucking wild here on the road. There is drinking, bitching, pole dancing and even a nightly damn LIMBO contests. (Which, BTW, the Queen has won every night. That bitch is freakishly limber and could get a job with the goddamn Chinese Circus. Here is the proof:



We have a small grow house and easy bake oven on the top of the bus where I reside. I've been making my famous "Special Cookies and Special Brownies". (Ok, so I;ve outsourced the baking part to the kids bus. Fuck you! Child labor laws are not applicable on the Royal Bus, and someone has to work the liquor pulley and tend to the plants.

However, I need to rethink the recipe amounts. The kids are starting to scare the shit out of me.


I passed out last night and when I awoke this afternoon, the five pounds of Baked Brownies was gone, Princess was walking around singing Janis Joplin tunes and flashing the peace sign and the bus now looked like this...



We've had a few mishaps too along the way. We've invented a delivery system between the alcohol buss and the main bus. It's pretty fucking sweet, however, the boobies broke free and are all on the loose.

With all of the starting, stopping, and slamming on of the breaks, a few of us have a motherfucking black eye, or two.

AND, don't be fooled by the Gay Gators Dragged to his Death story. The fucking out of control boobies got together, fucked him up, and had a gator barbecue. It wasn't a total loss though, because Sir is a fucking expert on leather and made us all matching thongs. Someone better UPS us some bras before the boobies eat the children, If that happened, who would bake the goddamn brownies?.

OOOhh!!!! Looks like we've reached the exit to our next destination.



Peace out!