Health · June's stupid life · Photo essays · Times I Amused My Own Self

Here she is, Miss Webcamica

America

At least you have the comfort of knowing there aren't a lot more special effects for me to be obsessed with on my webcam.

I read an interesting article in Allure today, because I'm deep. It was about diet myths, and they said exercise alone will not bring weight loss. You also have to eat less.

I guess this explains why I have been running all year with relatively little weight loss. Also, since I stole this dog, there has not been a day that I have not walked at least 20 minutes, and now with my at-work walks, I am walking an hour five days a week. At yet? Weight's the same.

Speaking of which, the dog and I took our trek to the dog park today even though it had been thundering for hours. In fact, I kept putting it off, and then I got sick of the thunder who cried wolf, so we went anyway.

Well. It is about a 10-minute walk through the woods to get to the park, and obviously a 10-minute walk back. And could the skies have gotten more ominous and we trekked through that park? Did I feel at all like Hansel and Gretel in those woods?

So now I am typing you from my very rainy house — we somehow managed to make it to the dog park, sniff Retriever butts for 15 minutes, chase a Doberman and get back to the car before it actually rained. But we looked like mimes walking against the wind on the way back to the car.

I like the South for its drama queen weather. It doesn't just incessantly drizzle like it did in Seattle, nor does it do nothing like it did in California. No, when the weather gets in a mood, it really gets into it. The trees are swaying right now, and the lightning is lightning-ing.

My photo boxes came today, so I have spent several hours taking photos out of their '80s albums already, and getting depressed that I used to be so cute. Why is it you're cute in your 20s but you're miserable, and then once you get happy you've jumped the looks shark? Couldn't I have had a few years of cute + happy?

Also, I am finding lots of photos of old boyfriends, and I am astonished that I feel absolutely… nothing for most of them. I wish I could go back to my sad self when I broke up with them all, and tell myself, "Honey? Someday you will (a) look like Charlie in Willy Wonka with your mom hairdo and (b) you will be totally, totally over this guy. Also? Appreciate your ankles now, cause you will not always have them."

WOOOOO! Big thunder! Is it dangerous to be on the computer now? Geez, this weather is letting all the bugs in.

Bug

June's stupid life · Times I Amused My Own Self

I have returned from Sects in the City

It was everything I ever dreamed it could be. Oh, it was good. And you know what I learned?

I learned there is nothing more irritating than a theater full of yentas, like there was tonight. Goodness, we women chat. Man.

Also? I learned I must, must be kept away from web cam.

Blimp

June's stupid life · Photo essays · Proofreading/Copy editing · Times I Amused My Own Self

Someone needs to put down the web cam.

When I was in high school, I had a regular column in our paper called I'm Irked. The three people from high school who actually read this will be sad to be reminded of that journalistic endeavor.

In my I'm Irked column there was a photo of me pulling out my hair irkedly, and I was trying to emulate that tonight, but then I just got carried away playing with my webcam.

Lips

Really, I wasn't all that irked. Well, I was, but it wasn't major. The first thing I wanted to complain about was how someone in my office makes tea every day. This is no big deal, as I make tea every day, too. And can I just mention that it turns out I only drink tea at work if I have a real job, and then at no other time? For years I have had green tea — which is good for you and makes you never die — after lunch. But if I work from home? Forget it.

I think this is cause making tea is a good time waster.

Look

I was trying to look irked here but instead Tallulah just makes me look fairly ridiculous. Plus, her paw is kind of saying, "Do go on. You can't mean it."

So, anyway, this poor person at work makes tea every day, and in my office I can hear said person SHAKING THEIR SUGAR PACKET. It happens every day, sometimes twice a day. I mean, I guess they could be shaking a salt packet, but why would you ?

But similarly? WHY WOULD YOU NEED TO SHAKE YOUR SUGAR PACKET? You don't need to mix it up! It's all sugar all the time! STOP WITH THE SUGAR SHAKING!

And yes, tea-maker wants to ensure the sugar moves to the bottom of the packet. But you know what, Drama Queen? YOU DON'T HAVE TO MOVE IT AROUND LIKE A MARACA! IT'S NOT A THERMOMETER! STOP!

Win

Guess who else is irked? With his spready feets?

Also, someone wrote a comment the other day that they would help me proofread because they love to read. Bless your heart. Now I have to direct us all back to my last year's blog, where I address this very issue. Please do not get mad at me, commenter. I do not want to pour cement into your particular nose. You did not know.

Here's what I said on Monday, April 9, 2007:

If you are now thinking, "Oh a proofreader. How fun. I love to read," please let me take this opportunity to fill your nasal cavities with a fast-hardening cement. You do not love to PROOFread. You love to read a nice novel. You like to catch up on that Miss Marple, see what shenanigans she is up to now. So do I. That, however, is not PROOFREADING. Unless you read like this: "Y (capital Y? Yes.)ou caaann copyyy saaaved (saved past tense? Yeah. Okay.) dataaaa (data? Are they using data as a plural? Are they using data as a plural in the rest of this thing? Okay.) (Wait. Didn't it say 10 pages ago that you CAN'T copy saved data? Hang on.)…"

I just know that commenter is gonna get mad at me now.

Lipscare

I know you were just trying to help me, nice commenter. Don't go away. See how funny I am?

June's stupid life · My pets

We were tired

Sorry that I did not blob yesterday. Everyone here was exhausted.

Tallulah goes to day care on Wednesdays — she finally loves it. When we pulled up yesterday, she walked across me in the car to get out the door faster. At the end of the day, she comes tearing out of that day care room like a fiend. "Oh hi! Oh hi! SomuchhappenedIsawaBeaglehihihihihi!"

Then we get in the car, she heaves a giant sigh, and is asleep before I leave the parking lot.

Needless to say, she is a lump on Wednesday nights. I had to wake her up to go for a walk. Her evening constitutional, as it were. Her chance to poop on a neighbor's lawn. Yes, I clean it up.

One woman in our neighborhood never cleaned up after her dog, and one night a little old lady ran after her and said "I have something for you!" It was a bag of all the poop the woman's dog had left in the old lady's yard over the weeks. I love that old lady.

Also too, Winston ran out into the back yard when I let Lula out yesterday morning and then he wouldn't come back, so he was in the yard in the rain all day. I knew he'd find a place to hide, and he did, cause he was dry when I got home, but he was nonetheless annoyed at being out all day.

And I was working on a giant project at work and it was the kind of thing where you never look up, except to notice the rain.

I had opened my window to enjoy said rain, and I noticed when I got back from lunch that my boss had closed it. Oh, calm down. The rain wasn't coming IN. Why must people interfere with my happiness? And why are you paying so much attention to my window?

Anyway, we all went to bed at 9:30. I had popcorn for dinner. Plain popcorn. I was too tired to go somewhere for food.

Lula did manage her daily torment of Winston before bed. But it was halfhearted.

Torture

June's stupid life · Proofreading/Copy editing

Why so tense?

Could I be feeling any more overwhelmed right now?

First there is my job, which even though the real estate agent and human resources told me would take 20 minutes to drive to, actually takes 40. So I am gone 10 hours and 20 minutes a day.

Then I have a dog, who has a noon walker and also day care once a week, but I still have to feed her and pay attention to her and walk her when I get home. And we have dog obedience once a week now, too.

Then there is poor Winston, who just wants Tallulah to stop biting his neck and also to be petted by me once in awhile.

And now I have these two kitties from next door, who are at my doorstep every second now. The poor babies. Mottled This was the best shot I could get of one of them. Kittens are not easy to photograph. They roll around a lot.

Plus also too, I have kept this one client, because I do not want them to hate me and because it's an extra $10,000 a year and because I want a backup should I get fired or quit this job that leaves me gone 10 hours and 20 minutes a day. But they are using me a lot, and tonight I called to tell them I am Fed Exing something back and they said they have a 428-page book to send me.

That is about 40 hours of intense work, on top of my 51 hours a week I am gone at my actual job.

And Marvin's parents are coming to visit right when I am going to be working on this book.

And did I mention I'm training for a half marathon?

And that I have this blog and also Chic Critique, which I have to write right after this?

Will somebody shoot me?

So, I think  this is a fine time to reorganize my photos.

Albums_3

Albumspartdeux_2

When I was unpacking, cause I need more to do, nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnjhnuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu (sorry. Winston just walked across the computer) (does anyone speak cat? What is he saying?) I noticed the great surge of photo albums in my life. I particularly like all the "Hello '80s" colored-pencil-flower-design albums.

So, I went online, cause I need more to do, and I ordered photo boxes. Six of them. For $4.25 apiece. They each supposedly hold 1,100 photos, and if I have more than 6,600 photos, I will scream. Who am I, Princess Diana? Why do I need all these photos of myself?

Anyway, I will keep you abreast of my photo organizing situation. And also of the nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnjhnuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu.

(Oh! I almost forgot! I got a free tensiony thing from the nurse today at work. What's it called? That large rubber band thing and you use it as a resistance type thing. Oh, you know what I mean, right?)

Grammar and Spelling · June's stupid life · Marvin

In which I mention many things. A myriad. Did you know it’s acceptable to say “a myriad of” and just “myriad”?

No, really. You can say, "Here's a myriad of crap for you to read" or "Here's myriad crap for ya."

The English language. It's not for everyone. Ooo, hang on. That reminds me, I wrote a terse email to People Mag online, and I want to see if they responded.

Crap. They didn't.

For the record, People Magazine, who I'm sure checks in with my blog all the time, here is how to determine whether to use "everyday" or "every day":

"I wear my everyday clothes every day." Got it?

"Every day" is when something happens daily. You are talking about WHEN something happens.

"Everyday" is when you are talking about something not so special. It is an everyday occurrence that happens every day.

Please do not make a lowly copy editor such as myself have to teach you these things.

Yeesch.

Anyway, can you tell me what this tree is, and why it's trying to kill me?

Allergyfluers

These trees are everywhere. Especially in my back yard, which is where I took this photo. They are bloom bloom blooming. And guess what? When I get within 17 feet of them, my throat closes up to the width of a pinhole. I want to take a toilet scrubber and rotate it in my nostrils, they itch so bad.

The verklempt me. WHAT ARE THEY, THESE ENEMY TREES?

Also, too, we have continued on doing things to our house, which is apparently what you must do when you buy a house, cause you're not poor enough already. We took out the brown carpeting from the back room, and we were gonna paint the concrete, as we did in our computer room. But my brother-in-law, who is visual, suggested we tile back there instead. So he and Marvin went to Lowe's, which at this point they should just rename Gardensalad's, and picked out tile together, which in retrospect strikes me as a little fey.

Anyway, Marvin got out of bed and started tiling. Cause our brother-in-law skipped town after the tiles were selected. Who will help me tile the floor? Not I, said the brother-in-law.

Happycat

Who's in a good mood? Who's in his pajamas at 4 p.m.?

And speaking of "Not I," said the wife, I am actually late for a dog park date with my new friend. So I leave you and Marvin in the middle of everything. Smell ya.

Family · June's stupid life

The Voracious Knee

Well.

One way to be sure to eat well is to have out-of-town guests come in. Yeesch.

My stepsister and her husband came to visit us. Normally they live in LA. We took them to IHOP, cause we're classy. We took them to a minor league baseball game, because they have a black Lab who brings the balls out with her teefs. We took them to a fancy dinner tonight. Actually, we split the check. So "we took them" is an exaggeration.

At any rate, you can imagine the fine food we consumed.

Are blackened green tomatoes bad for you? Cause I had that tonight as an appetizer and man, it was good.

I do not need to ask you if smores are bad. We had those too, in our back yard.

And by the way. Do you remember how my insane dog walker stole the neighbor cat because she convinced herself it was a stray? And then I made her give it back because it BELONGS to someone and she is a NUTBAR who makes animal lovers look like zealots?

Well, that cat is outside ALL THE TIME, and so her is stripey orange sister. And I am forever petting them and giving them food and water. Now, I know the woman next door loves her cats, I really do. But now whenever I open my door, they come inside and sit with me in my house like it's normal. They are just little, like maybe six months.

Do not let me steal these cats. Please stop me.

Have I mentioned how pretty they are?

Oh. And another thing. I have taken back up with the running, and it was all going well until the other day when my KNEE started feeling like it was full of molten lava. It's very unsettling.

Why do people always describe lava as "molten"? Is that an actual scientific term, or does it just mean really hot and people always say it like they say voracious reader and not, you know, greedy reader?

So, has anyone experienced the molten knee before? The voracious knee? What does it mean? Am I dying? Should I not run 7.5 miles tomorrow? Sleeping Beauty, my half-marathon partner, said I should ice it and not run. Is she full of crap? Am I full of Lava Soap or actual lava? Can I make a lava lamp out of whatever is in there?

Do you wish I'd stop now?

June's stupid life · My pets

I totally heart this ridiculous creature

I was unpacking, putting our board games in the attic. Because Marvin and I are among the most boring people on earth, we love Monopoly. Not only do we have the traditional game, we also have Millennium Monopoly.

It has updated money, a fancy board, and they made all the game pieces up-to-date: a computer, a cell phone, etc.

Well, contents must have shifted during flight, because Millennium Monopoly opened up and all the pieces scattered everywhere, including down the stairs.

I just knew Tallulah would see this as a smorgasbord, so I hobbled down the attic steps and quickly as I could. There she was, sittin’ in her cone, looking smug.

DROP IT, I said.

You know what she spit out? The yellow Lab game piece. She chose her own self to eat.

Is this narcissistic, or does she want to destroy herself? Discuss.

Faithful Readers · Family · June's stupid life

Duck, duck…

Sorry I didn't write yesterday; it was a run-aroundy kind of a day. My stepsister and her spouse are coming this weekend, which is going to be fun for them since this house contains one chair, no table, one bed and 400,009 boxes.

At any rate, I was preparing for their visit and all of a sudden it was 10. Which is when I go to bed. I am very persnickety about getting enough sleep. There is a woman I work with who has a 14-month-old and twin six-year-olds. Humans. She gets around four hours of sleep a night. I would kill myself daily.

Did I mention her husband works third shift? Have I mentioned I would kill myself daily?

Even though I just met her, I am forever trying to think of a way to solve her life difficulties. As though she hasn't explored every avenue in her own head.

Oh, and speaking of life difficulties, I know I mentioned there are new baby geese who flew into work. Onto the "campus." Whatever. Anyway, there are three adult geeses and three babies. Do you like me for saying "geeses"?

I have become obsessed with why there are three adults. Are these well-to-do geese and the third adult is the nanny? Is the male a polygamist? Or are they three adult women geese who are being single moms together? Maybe they all got the runaround from the same player male goose.

Alternatively, perhaps one of the adult geese is really a teen, who was a baby last year, who is somehow slacking and refusing to leave home.

I really need more to do at work.

Anyway, yesterday at lunch I was reading a book — because what's better after a morning of proofreading than a lunchtime of reading? — and the geese honked so much it got my attention.

There were the three adults…and just two babies. Oh, you don't know. You don't know how sad I got. I walked all around the "campus" (sigh) and I saw all the other, older goose families, and all their kids were in tact. I looked behind bamboo, in doorways, I looked everywhere for that baby. I do not know what I would have done had I found it. Picked it up and delivered it to a giant, hissing, pecky goose? Probably.

When I took my 3 o'clock break, the goose was still honking, like every 10 seconds. It was awful.

But I am happy to tell you that at the end of the day, as I walked to my car, I saw the family in the distance, and I actually dropped everything and ran over there to make sure I saw it right. The third baby was back. I'm sure no coworkers thought I was nuts, dancing around and screaming "YES!" over by the geese.

Oh, I was so worried a hawk had swooped down and gotten his downy little self. Maybe someone at work went out and bought a new baby goose so I'd shut up.

Also, I keep forgetting to tell you that The Nester and her sister came to see me this past weekend! Nester's sister and I have emailed because she is familiar with Greensboro, and she was basically my off-the-record real estate agent. So, they knew where I lived, generally, and when they drove past, Marvin and I were unloading the car from our daily $5,000 expenditure at Target.

It was so exciting! And I know Nester already mentioned it in her blog, because one day earlier this week I had 9 million visitors before noon, and when that happens it always means Nester mentioned me in her blog. If I am getting her sloppy seconds, I cannot imagine how many readers she must get.

Also too, Nester's mom was in the car, absolutely appalled that her daughters were dropping in on someone they really only knew cyberly. I told Nester that my mother is always appalled that I tie my bra on my head at wedding receptions, when everyone knows it's totally acceptable these days. Moms are so picky.

I had better actually shower, as although it is casual Friday, I do not think the pink pajamas and blue robe are what they had in mind. Maybe I'll wear my "I'm Obsessed With Geeses" tshirt.

Friends · June's stupid life

How I Lost My Best Friend. A Post Completely Unhealth-Related.

Seriously, you guys don’t know who Dylan McDermott is? Well, he’s cute. You must trust me on this. Once I become Mrs. McDermott I’ll put up our wedding shot.

So, I had no idea so many people had issues with their best friends. One often feels as though one is the only one. I wonder how many times one could say one in one sentence?

Well, so what happened is this. And I doubt this will be inspirational, as I was not graceful in my handling of it, as I so seldom am about anything. Grace Kelly did not call.

I met my best friend when we were about 22. We had gone to junior high and high school together but hung with a different crowd altogether. I thought her crowd was burnout-y, and I assumed she was burnout-y right there with them. How old am I with my phrase "burnout"?

Jeff Spicoli called. Wants his vocabulary back.

Actually, my friend, who I will call Esmeralda — which could not be any further from her name and I am gettin’ a kick out of myself — was way more clean cut than I was. I think she was actually a virgin at graduation, and she got a certificate for perfect attendance at the end of senior year. Scary, really.

So, I knew of her and had seen her and all but I met her at a bar, which was kind of to be the backdrop for our friendship.

I was 22, had dropped out of college, and was living in my mother’s basement. Things were goin’ well. Plus, I was embroiled in the worst, most dramatic, most on/off, most "I’m 22" kind of relationship.

One day I was sitting in my mother’s house, trying to decide what to do with myself, and I actually formed the thought, "Maybe I’ll be one of those people who goes to the bars all the time."

This was my big solution to my woes. Could I have come up with a worse solution? Maybe I’ll be one of those people who’s addicted to heroin! Nice.

It was soon after I made my well-thought-out decision that one night at closing, the lights went up in my hometown’s bar and there was Esmeralda. It hadn’t occurred to either of us to go home before the lights went up. "Hi!" she said, recognizing me. "Hi!" I said.

The next night we saw each other again at an outdoor bar, again stayed till close, and two days later we went away together for the weekend.

Have I mentioned it was easier to make friends then? Now I’d spend a month and a half working up the courage to call someone to go for coffee. There we were, on a romantic Bud Light getaway already.

So that really sums up the friendship for the next four years. We went to our local bars, pretty much every night, always till close. Sometimes we’d put up the chairs and the bartender would give us a shift drink.

And oh, was Esmeralda the greatest friend to drink with. Ever. To this day. We’d always see the same people to make fun of at the same time. We both drank like sailors, but neither got sick or sloppy ever. We’d follow certain bands around and we both liked the same songs.

We were always deep in conversation. We’d both sink really low when we talked, and wave our arms around dramatically. One friend said he was on his way home after a long day, was gonna go straight to bed, and saw us through the bar window, hunched two inches over a table, four skinny arms waving, and he knew he had to go in and see what we were talking about.

When I went away to Seattle, the friendship did not abate even slightly. I was a receptionist and I am afraid we had an 800 number, and would Esmeralda call me 700 times a day on that thing? I totally owe that company like 11 million dollars. We talked constantly, about everything.

Me: (phone ringing): Good morning, Very Important Bank. How may I help you?

Esmeralda: I just shit out a lung.

You know when it went sour? I know exactly when. When I met Marvin Gardensalad. Now, at this point, Esmeralda was married and had a great job. But just as I was getting engaged and planning my wedding? Her marriage hit the rocks.

So I think a few things happened. I think I changed when I met Marvin. I wasn’t so needy, and I was probably less funny, because I had no more bad date stories. Also, I was probably insufferably smug. I really felt like I’d landed the husband of all time, and I was determined to have the prettiest wedding ever.

My assumption is I got a bit intolerable then. I tend toward arrogance anyway, and I’ll bet I was Snooty Pretensionsmith at that juncture.

Plus, how fun is it to hang around with someone who’s getting married when you are maybe getting divorced? Can’t be fun.

Plus also too? And this is the worst part. Esmeralda told me some secrets, stuff about everything she was going through. And I told them to other people. I totally had the guff, and my desire to be the center of attention outweighed my desire to be a good friend. I don’t know if she ever found out.

But Esmeralda kind of quit calling. We used to talk seven times a day, and she wouldn’t call me back, or she’d return my call at my house, in the middle of the day, when she knew I wasn’t home.

It got worse after my wedding. My reaction was to call, call, call, leaving sobbing messages on her answering machine, and to write long, probably arrogant, heartfelt letters. And when she would actually talk to me, she’d assure me that absolutely nothing was wrong. Nothing at all.

Finally, we just ground to a halt. One time I decided to wait for her to call me, and eight years later I am still waiting.

That’s not entirely true; we have some friends in common, so when things happened to them, we’ll call. And for some reason we exchange Christmas cards still.

It was so hard to get used to not having a friend you could call 47 times a day. No one else really cares if I eat a good pickle, or if Bizarre Love Triangle is on the radio. For years I went around with kind of this cannon hole in my center. And even though I was a newlywed and all, it wasn’t the same as having a best friend.

So, I know this was the longest post ever, but that is how I came to have an ex best friend. A lot of it was my fault, some of it was hers, and some of it was just bad circumstance. The timing of what was happening to us couldn’t have been worse. And maybe we just outgrew each other.

But sometimes I miss being at a bar at 1 a.m., with some skinny-armed chick throwing peanuts into my bra.

Friends · June's stupid life

Wait. Dylan McDermott is AVAILABLE?

Did you see Dylan McDermott is getting a divorce? Why, do you think? Is there a possibility it is because he loves me and hasn’t had the nerve to tell me yet? Do you think he’s secretly reading this blog? He’s Tee, isn’t he? I mean, I have no real proof that Tee is a woman. A man could say phrases like "For crying in the cream," right?

Tomorrow is my 30-day review at work. Woo! Do you think I’ll get a raise?

Also tomorrow at work, we are having a competition with the other office, to see who walks around our respective walking tracks the most. You walk around the track as many times as you can, report it to our on-site nurse (yes, we have a full-time nurse there. Yes, I have already been there with a hypochondriacal illness. Did you really think I could go a month without one?), and then she tallies who the winner is.

I do not know what we get as a prize if we beat the other site. Maybe we get to edit them to death or something. At any rate, the guy I walk with on breaks is gonna join me walking around the track 750 times rather than our usual walk through the whole campus.  Yes, they call it a campus. No, it is not a school.

Is that even legal?

And speaking of the guy I walk with, which this next part really isn’t, I think I figured out why my pants are falling down and I look  like I should be in the Crips or some gang actually from this decade. It is probably because my coworker and I — let’s call him Christopher Walken from now on — walk twice a day for 18 minutes each time, and pretty briskly. So that’s 36 minutes a day, cause I’m a math whiz like that, and then I walk a really frisky 30-pound dog every evening for about 30 minutes.

That adds up to like 12 hours a day of walking. So there you go.

And in conclusion, thank you all for coming out tonight and enjoying this fine chicken. Do you really want to hear the why-she’s-my-ex-best-friend story? I’ve been thinking, should I really sell out my ex just to have a good blog story? Hells yeah.

So, I am thinking I will tell it. I have to review it in my mind, cause at the time it was just a rush of sad, depressing times and then it was over. And it was worse than breaking up with a boyfriend. It was probably worse than divorcing Dylan McDermott. At least he knows where he can come to pick up the pieces. Greensboro! In the house! Wooo!

Family · June's stupid life · My pets

Ruby Rosie Lemons

Did anyone else see that full, lemon moon tonight? Oh, it was beautiful. I know I totally sound like my mother right now. Whenever I am around my mother, she is forever pointing out things in nature.

And she calls me Harry–June, which is my stepfather's name and then mine.

"Oh, Harry–June, did you see those pretty flowers?"

And now I have become a person pointing out nature. Oh, Harry–BlogReaders, did you see the moon?

Do you think my mother is actually trying to tell me I need a depilatory?

Anyway. I got to see the full lemon moon because Tallulah and I were coming home from puppy obedience class tonight. We learned our names. So, there was a Boxer next to us named Rosie, and the trainer was demonstrating on her. "Rosie!" she'd say, excitedly, and just one time. If Rosie actually looked, she got a treat.

Within four seconds, Lula was totally on to this game, and every time the trainer said, "Rosie!" guess who went over and sat and totally tried to pretend her name was Rosie. Who was getting a fake ID before class was up and a big "Rosie" tattoo on her arm?

But the good news is, and I hope you're noticing this is actually about health, the trainer said I can RUN with Tallulah as long as it's just for half an hour twice a week, and only at my brisk 14-minute-mile pace.

I am so glad! Do you have any idea how hard it's been to come home, walk the dog, get back in the house, put on running clothes and go out again? Pu-leeze. Actually, I did that tonight and when we got to obedience class, I was a tomato and everyone must have thought I was a little overly aroused about being there, with the panting I was doing, and also sweating in rivulets.

Sexy. I'm too sexy for my obedience class.

Plus, I forgot to mention that along with 12,000 more boxes, because we apparently have emptiness in our souls and fill them with stuff, Marvin also brought Winston with him this weekend.

011

Now, he was supposed to bring Ruby, as she needs medication from time to time, and last week Marvin sent an email that just said, "I had to pill Ruby. It wasn't pretty." So, I thought she should come here, where I can pill her in a millisecond.

But, Marvin couldn't find Ruby in the house, so instead he brought Winston. I guess he figured any cat would do. It is nice to have my Winnie here, and you can see DustBuster likes it too.

Finally, I leave you with a picture out my front door as I left to run tonight. Oh, Harry–Lurker, isn't it nice?

012_2

June's stupid life · Times I Amused My Own Self

Too lightheaded to think of a title

May_2008_005

Now that you've all been "blown away" by my gas-at-work story, I can move on to all the things I was gonna tell you.

I couldn't blob yesterday because Marvin unhooked my computer in order to paint the concrete floor in here. This room, and our back sun room, used to be swathed in the most awful brown carpet imaginable. Plus, the previous owner had a Shihtzu who peed simply everywhere.

Can anyone tell me why (a) little dogs seem to be harder to train and (4) why you wouldn't train it anyway? How can you stand to live with pee everywhere? I used to dog sit for my boss's sister, who owned a really modern condo which I would kill myself if I had to live in, and she had two little Shihtzus. They were cute as buttons but they peed and pooped in the house constantly.

Plus, one time I took her coffee cup on the bus with me when I left her place? And she had a fit about it. I had left her a note: "Will return your coffee cup — took it with me" and she called me like 70 times to say it was hand-painted and please return the cup.

Okay, sister? You need to get your priorities in order. The fact that your DOGS POOP IN YOUR HOUSE DAILY is way more crucial than your ding and also dang coffee cup. Plus, who buys hand-painted coffee cups? Calm down.

Okay. I really had no idea I was going to go off on a tangent about someone I haven't thought about since 1997.

Anyway, we went to Lowe's, which was never interesting to me until I purchased a house, and bought concrete paint and 75 million accouterments, because nothing can ever be easy, and then we spent .7 seconds picking out a color. It made me think of my ex-best friend. She came with us when we registered for wedding gifts, and she was astonished at how quickly we chose things to register for.

Having been standing there for 17 hours in a brocade dress while she decided hem lengths for HER bridesmaids' dresses, I know she took a while to decide things.

But seriously, I knew the shade I had in mind, I saw it from a distance, it was called Willow, and after

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saying "Willow!" at the top of my lungs in the voice that the dwarf used, we got that color and went home. But I felt guilty, because I know my ex-best friend would have thought that was a travesty.

Wow. All you can really see in this picture is the hideous blue tape. Well, trust me. It is a pale green. This room used to be a porch, which I would have liked. Maybe someday we'll have a screened-in porch in back.

Okay, I am rambling on and on and I am starting to get dizzy in this room, so let me just briefly tell you all the things I was gonna mention:

  • I have finally decided how I'm going to decorate my office at work. Right now, when anyone goes in there they say, "Wow, it sure is…clean in here." It couldn't be blanker in there. It looks like how everyone thought the future would look in movies like 2001 A Space Odyssey. It is white white white. Anyway, I am going for a "my bedroom in 1977" theme. I'm gonna get Peter Frampton posters off of eBay, I'm bringing in my bottle of Love's Baby Soft which I totally already own, and I'm hoping to also find one of those "If you love someone set them free" pictures. I do not care that everyone will think I am a nut.
  • Trust me, I seem weird when you first meet me. When my friend Saundra met me at a college party, I had tube socks in my bra and I not only told her, I let her look down my shirt as proof. She thought I was berserk.
  • My dog walker is totally insane, and she stole the neighbor's cat, as she decided it was being neglected. The thing is, it sort of IS neglected, and I am torn about letting her steal it. I will pontificate more later.
  • I am totally lightheaded now and I have to go. Which works for you because this post has gone on forever and you have turned into a skeleton with cobwebs, over there. You're totally doing your Norman Bates' mother impression.
June's stupid life · Times I Amused My Own Self

Windbag

I have so many things to tell you. I was thinking about them all day at work, and even wrote a list of what I had to tell you, there was such a plethora.

And then? I had The Humiliation. At work. Oh, help.

So, as you know, if you follow my every move, I have been taking my lunch to work this week. So today I brought one of those microwavable soups. This one was chili. And was it ever good. I think it was by Campbell's. (There were new baby geese at lunch, too, not that I ate baby geese.)

A few hours after lunch, I was in my office, probably writing a list of what to blog about or some other impressive work ethic type thing.

There were ice cream sandwiches in the freezer, and I am sorry to tell you in this health blog that I got up to get me one.

Now, my boss's office is at the end of the hall, and mine is right next to hers.

There was another editor in my boss's office, and they were discussing important work things. As I entered the hall, my back to my boss's office, I am sorry to tell you…

I had gas.

I had no idea gas was coming. It was a sneak attack. And you guys, it was not a slight, feminine type of gas moment. This was an endless, stepped-on-a-duck kind of wind passing. Like blurrrrahhhhhh. Like the kind of gas my grandma used to have when she'd climb steps.

I was three feet from my boss's office. Well, then immediately thereafter I was 10 feet from it, as this gas PROPELLED me through the room.

The editor who was in there just completely stopped talking.

This did not stop me from getting the ice cream sandwich. But now I wonder, should I send a telegram to my office, telling them I can never return? Should I sneak back in over the weekend and place a tuba under the carpet, so the editor steps on it Monday and thinks THAT was the noise I made? Should I hire a hypnotist to make everyone forget Friday, including me?

Oh, dear.

Health · June's stupid life · My pets

No Mo’ Mojo

I am pleased to announce that I don't have much to do tonight. Lately I've had to come home and freelance, but today either Fed Ex came to my house and picked up my package of freelance work, or someone stole it. Whichever.

I still have to take life-of-the-party lampshade dog for a walk tonight. Lucky for her, she gets to take her cone off when we walk.

And by the way, she totally ruins my cat mojo when I peruse the neighborhood. Usually, if there is a cat in any yard, I am able to lure it over to me for many pets. You really don't ever want to go on a walk with me, unless you enjoy watching someone crouch down every third house, saying, "Who's a pretty cat? Who's a beauuuutiful kitty boy?"

Anyway, not so much with the luring cats with jumpy dog, over here. She loves cats, but she has no idea how to act suave so they'll come visit. She acts how I want to act on the inside. "Oh! A cat! A catacatacat! I love love love you, cat! Look at me leap and bark with my love!

"Where ya goin'? Why the fat tail?"

So, my big plan is to walk the lampshade, then do some laundry and that's about it.

Oh, and thanks for the "eat protein" tip. Gee. It's filling to eat protein, isn't it? Huh.

I enjoyed the person who said for a heath blog, I sure don't know about health. Exactly! I am the least-healthy person ever. That's why I'm trying to do a health blog. Which, let's face it, I rarely do.

I have a friend who giggles at her husband when he's on a work call, because he always says, "Exaaa-ha-ha-ha-ctly" to whomever he's sucking up to. I hope she doesn't mind I just told y'all that.

When Marvin Gardensalad is on a work call and he asks a question, he always adds an "or" at the end of the question, with kind of an ellipsis implied.

"So, health benefits start after 90 days, or…?"

"So, you're looking for Jewish Chippendale's dancers now, or…?"

"So, you want to meet for a strawberry daiquiri, or…?"

Oh, and speaking of work, Girl Who Doesn't Get Me is starting to get me. And get over me, too. Today I instant messaged her with a request that she show me how to do something. She wrote back, "Come to my office anytime" and I wrote back, "Okay, I'll be there in the Renaissance."

When I got to her office, she said, "Well. You spelled Renaissance right."

So over me. So, ya over me, or…?

Health · June's stupid life

Spruce Gooses

The most annoying thing about my new job is that even though I am salaried, if I miss work, I have to make up the time. However, if I'm ever needed to stay late? Well, that's just free. No pay, no comp time.

It irks me.

So yesterday I was two hours late because I had to take Tallulah to the vet to get her cone, to turn her into Conan the Barkbarian, and this resulted in me having to take half-hour lunches for the rest of the week to make up my time.

Have I mentioned this irks me?

Today I packed a lunch so that I could just leave my office and go eat somewhere at work — there is a lot of land and grassy area there. I know I am totally making it sound like I am a shepherd. A shepherd on salary.

Hello, Ralph. Hello, Sam.

I packed:

1 can of tomato soup, a bag of Wheat Thins, a can of peaches, one of those 100-calorie cookie packs and a bottle of water.

By 4 p.m. I was ready to go outside and eat the sheep. I was STARVING TO DEATH.

Doesn't that sound like it'd be enough food? What is wrong with me? Am I a 17-year-old boy? Who pulls trains with his teeth?

Despite my hunger and the resentment about making up my time, I did have a good lunch because the GEESE, with which I am obsessed, came over to visit me. The mom, dad, and their five babies, like Brad and Angelina. One of the geese had a mohawk.

I was so excited that they came over to me, although the dad was clearly giving me the eye. He had kind of a black, soulless eye, if you want to know the truth. Like a shark's eye.

And I know geese can be mean. But I acted like it's cool, man, goose man, and finally he stopped glaring at me soullessly and just let his kids play near me. Oh, they are cute. They fought with each other and tucked their little goose bills into their downy baby goose fur. Which I guess we should call "feathers."

It was all I could do not to pick them all up and put them in my office all afternoon.

Have I told you how my new office TOTALLY ROCKS? It's huge. It has two windows that actually open, and I have a sink. I have no idea why I have a sink, but it's delightful. I wash babies and peel potatoes in there all the time. Sometimes I wash my hair.

I had better go pay attention to Conan O'Barkin', over here. She keeps nudging me with the cone. Whoever said she looks like someone took the wind out of her sails was totally right.

She's on a Coney Island of Sadness.

June's stupid life · Times I Amused My Own Self

I will NEVER want that wagon wheel coffee table

Tallulah is in the back yard, eating something dead. She picked it up last night on our walk, and she continues to chew on it. It's an Everlasting Gobstopper from the grave.

I, however, had a Big Mac for dinner, so who is eating worse, really? Her food is probably fresher.

Yep, that health blog. Coming right along.

So, the woman at work who thinks I'm weird had new pictures up today. She has three kids, so she has three large studio photos stuck in one of those kind of modern paper-clippy things that sort of fan out the pictures. So on the left is one kid, on the right is another…and actually there is kind of a space in the middle.

"You know what you need in the middle there," I told her, "you need my senior picture."

Okay, she really totally hates me.  Wait till my mother actually mails my senior, over-the-shoulder picture and I bring it in to her.

Why did they make us pose like that for our senior pictures? "Yes, I often pinch my chin thoughtfully while hoisting my leg on a wagon wheel."

I particularly like the up-close shot with one's ghostly profile hovering in the background. Why? Is it supposed to be you and your conscience? "Don't drink seven pints of Southern Comfort before prooooommmmm…"

I do not know how I got started on high school, but do not let me continue. There are too many nightmarish memories to dredge up.

Anyway. It is cold and it is rainy, so I'd best tear Lula from her corpse jerky and get her on another walk. Did anyone get anything good for Mother's Day?