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December 26, 2005
Queen Amidala’s Diary, Part 6
Long Time Ago
Naboo Skiff
Calories: 300 (brought a bag of regular peanut M&M’s, couldn’t find any dark chocolate), number glasses milk: 0, winning lotto numbers: 0
I have a bad feeling about this.
And C3PO won’t shut up for a freaking minute. At least I can’t understand half of what Jar-Jar says when he goes on and on, but I can’t tune out 3P0’s endless monologue about how his sensors show that there are three life forms on the ship. I keep telling him that – DUH! – I’m pregnant, but he just won’t let it go.
Anakin’s on this planet called Mustafar. We’re orbiting it now. I don’t know why he came here for Botox. This isn’t the kind of place where you set up a spa. I mean, I’ve never had a hot rock massage before, but this can’t be right. Hot liquid magma’s more like it, and this is going to be total hell on my hair. I keep trying to convince 3PO to help me braid it, but he keeps saying that he doesn’t think I understand the seriousness of our situation and that I need to listen to some message we got from Bail. Whatever. Frizzy hair never helped anything.
Maybe I should have stayed home with Obi-Wan.
[Note from The Other Queen: Read ALL of Queen Amidala's diary entries using the "Queen Amidala's Diary" category in the drop-down menu on the sidebar. Also don't miss our new "Recipes" category. I also spent some quality time catching up on responding to all the days' worth of comments I'd gotten behind on while I was sick/celebrating the holiday.]
Posted by adrienne at December 26, 2005 12:54 PM
Comments
Dear Ami,
Honey, I don't know why you insist on traipsing around the galaxy after an emotionally unavailable not to mention unstable person like Anakin. His mother was a slave for godsake and who knows what other skeletons are hiding in his family closet. I don't like to judge, but he's really not the sort of boy your father and I had in mind for you when we sent you to queen school. He'll turn out to be nothing but trouble in the end, mark my words.
Now that nice Obi Wan, so polite, although he does need a shave and I don't understand why the Jedi can't get a nicer uniform.
Oh well at least you are giving me grand children and that's a lot more than your brother has done for us. Always off somewhere tinkering with those clone things of his. How does he expect to make a living off of that? He really needs to meet a nice girl.
Since the babies are coming and Anakin seems to have such a dangerous job, going off to fire planets and all, I wish you'd talk to your father's cousin Herbie about some life insurance.
Love, Mama
Posted by: Sally at December 27, 2005 12:33 PM
Dear Mother,
They’re only letting Herbie keep that insurance job because YOU made me call his boss, and now you want me to buy insurance from him? Forget it. He’s a total mouth-breather, and, besides that, don’t you remember the incident with my wig a couple years ago? I don’t trust that man.
And I’ve told you a thousand times, Anakin is the Chosen One. Jedi don’t even MAKE money. I’m supporting myself and the kids, and the Jedi Council’s supporting Anakin – unless they find out we’re married. Remember that’s a secret. NO ANNOUNCEMENTS IN THE NABOO GAZETTE!!!
You don’t like Obi-Wan’s beard? I think it’s cute. I like those Jedi robes, too. Anakin and I play a game with them, but you wouldn’t want to know more about that.
Give my love to Father.
Regally,
The Queen
P.S. Are you and Dad ever going to let go of Queen School? I paid half that tuition myself, and I have the student loans to prove it.
Posted by: Amidala at December 27, 2005 09:11 PM