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

Pee Diddy


I just got home and noticed that this shirt is a tad…revealing. Glad everyone at work got to view the goods all day. Man.

I spent the entire day proofreading about urine. I am not even making this up. All day. If that doesn't put you in a pissy mood…

At least I'm getting to be a whiz at this job. I aim to be number one soon!

"Yer in" a bad mood now, aren't you? You want to tell me to piss off, I know.

Okay, I'll stop.

Now that we've gotten that out of our system, I am flush with other stories.  I did run two and a quarter miles last night, despite my precarious shoelace situation. Everyone has been telling me not to do long runs right before my half-marathon, so now I don't know what to do.

The longest I've run is 8 miles. I mean, when training for this race. Need I remind you that girlfriend ran TWENTY-SIX POINT TWO miles back in 2000. So, the half-marathon is in four weeks. What should I do?

Also, Marvin got a bunch of free tennis balls, which for some odd reason he has decided will be a necessary thing for his class this fall. Is he going to make each kid a tennis pro? Is he going to lob them at bad children? I asked him, but then I ignored his answer.

He has put said balls in a box in the computer room. Okay. Hello? Who do you think is just a tad interested in a BOX OF TENNIS BALLS?


She has been guarding these like a sentinel. She takes them out and puts them all over the house, then we put them away again, and what do you think happens seven seconds later? It'd be like setting a box of Barry Gibb in front of me. She can't leave it alone. This is as good as it gets for a dog.

I have to go eat all the fruit I bought this weekend, before it goes bad. It will start robbing banks and voting Republican soon.

I wish I could think of another pee joke to sign off. Crap.

June's stupid life · My pets


Tallulah ate my shoelace right out of my running shoe. I had to take what wasn't in her small intestine and tie it together and fashion a shoelace as best I could. If you never hear from me again you know it's cause this badly tied shoe killed me during my breakneck run.

Why did she even want a shoelace? Was she doing her Lady and the Tramp impression?


June's stupid life · Los Angeles

I feel the earth move under my feet

That earthquake in LA today made me so homesick I could have spit up. I am sorry, but earthquakes are fun. …You know, unless you're in a really bad one, which I never was.

I emailed everyone I could think of, all at once, to get the guff. It was fun, because everyone wrote back and I got to hear what all my friends were doing today at 11:42 a.m. Pacific time.

One person watched their coworker get hit in the head with his Batman poster (but he kept talking on his business call, which you have to admit is impressive). Another friend ran a breakneck pace down the stairs at work, in her heels. And my stepsister? Just kept eating her potato salad.

My stepsister weighs about 14 pounds and eats like a linebacker. She has the metabolism of a hummingbird. Yes, I do want to kick her skinny ass.

In other crushing news, I went to the store this weekend and bought 8 million dollars worth of vegetarian food, and when I made my mac and cheese today at work? Turns out I accidentally bought BACON FLAVORED mac and cheese. Who even ever HEARD of bacon mac and cheese? A woman at work told me I must subconsciously want meat, but she is the same poor soul who broke her arm at step aerobics last week, so what is HER subconscious telling her?

Oh, and by the way? She got to pick her cast color, and she picked what she called Duke blue. And finally, after living here for a year, I have noticed that University of North Carolina and Duke? Their colors? Both blue. Now, people are trying to tell me that there is a distinct difference in these blues, and to that I say, blush and bashful.

Also too? I ordered a yoga DVD, which when it arrives I am gonna encourage Marvin to do with me, because (a) his back hurts a lot and (12) it will just be fun to watch.

It seems like I had other pressing news but it is time for dog park. Dog park? See Cooper!?!

She will probably even know that I WROTE that and any minute now will be bouncing around here like a super ball. What is IN super balls to make them like that? Probably the same thing that's in me, keeping me from staying on a topic.

Okay, bye.

I am berserk · June's stupid life

I’d give my eyeteeth for a better nose


You'll notice I'm home. And troubling myself about my nose. I HATE the ball on the end of my nose. Thanks, dad. Thanks for the ball. Don't give me any of your mathematical abilities, or your sense of direction. I'd even take your ability to play darts. But no. I get the ball.

I am home because I had a dentist appointment at 2:00. You do not even understand how I have been dreading this. I am HORrified of the dentist. Last month, I was at home one night, proofreading, and I thought, "That tooth seems a little sensitive." So I put my finger up there, and OW.

When I discover a tooth hurts, the first thing that happens is my entire body goes numb from terror. Then I consider suicide. Really. I consider whether I should just throw myself in front of a train instead of facing the dreaded dentist.

I kept putting it off until the fear and obsession grew to gargantuan proportions, and finally I called a dentist here.

Of course, he really couldn't find anything wrong with my tooth. He kept saying horrible things like, "Does this one hurt? You had a root canal there, and it could be the root is growing back." Okay, what? I figured root canal, you are done. You have  done everything possible to that tooth and you never have to worry about it again. That's what I thought. Okay, thanks. Thanks for giving me a new worry. You have just given me an ALL NEW thing to wake up and think about, along with terrorism, esophageal cancer, crabs and angina, all of which I have thought I had this week. Well, you can't have terrorism. But I heard something boomy the other night.

Anyway, he decided maybe one tooth is sticking up too high, so he drilled it down and we are hoping that's the end of it. Could it be that I have become a tooth hypochondriac?

Oh, and he mentioned I had a deep pocket, which come on. The pants don't even HAVE pockets. Anyway, I have to go get a deep cleaning next. I knew I was a slob.

So, that is why I am home today. And Sleeping Beauty? I am going to run 12 miles the week before the race. Is that bad? And for the person who lives in Greensboro? If I decide to go back on the running route site, I am so emailing you. And for Mrs. Q, who gave me a blog award like three weeks ago and I have yet to acknowledge it? Thank you. I got it when I was on vacation and I know I am totally rude and ungrateful. And I also have bad teeth.

Film · Health · June's stupid life

8 Mile

I haven't even had coffee yet, and here I am writing you.  You're welcome.

Ran eight miles yesterday, at my usual blistering 14:30 pace. You can make fun of me all you want, did YOU run eight miles yesterday? Okay, then.

My plan was to actually run in a neighborhood. So far all I've done is run at the track or on the treadmill, which, could I feel more like a gerbil? Especially when I hang the water bottle against the wall like that and it bang bang bangs when I suck at it.

So, I went on a site where people in Greensboro have already gone on and said, "Hey. This is a good running route!" I found several that were four miles long, and figured I'd do one twice.

But you know what? I don't know where anything is in this city. All I know is Battleground Avenue and the dog park. I really have to expand my repertoire. Anyway, I got impatient and just got on the treadmill. Afterward, I gnawed a paper towel roll.

Actually, by the time I was done it was 5:28 p.m. and we had plans to meet Cooper's mom at the dog park sometime between 6 and 7. So I had to rush into the shower, which is really what you want to do after you've been on the treadmill 114 minutes.

Then I am sorry to tell you that as I was getting dressed I realized that Steel Magnolias was on the Ovary Network. Marvin actually said, "What movie is this?"

I do not understand men. Every woman on earth knows that is the best movie ever ever ever, other than When Harry Met Sally, and they would recognize it after one frame. Any movie that has the line, "He doesn't know whether to scratch his watch or wind his ass" is not to be forgotten.

I sat there and watched from the Armadillo cake scene to the actual wedding.

And speaking of ridiculous movies, on Friday night, Tallulah and I watched Lassie Come Home, with Roddy MacDowell and Elizabeth Taylor when they were children. I mean, when they were in the movie they were children. I don't mean the two of them went back in time, became kids, and came to my house to watch this movie with me. But you probably knew that.

Could Elizabeth Taylor have been a more beautiful child? Holy crap. Have you seen this movie? Oh. So MANY terrible things happen to Lassie. I called my mother and reiterated the plot on her answering machine, while I sobbed. I had to leave five messages cause her stupid machine kept cutting me off.

When I was done, Marvin said, "Why don't you call back and tell her the plot of 2001: A Space Odyssey?"

Whatever with Marvin. Whatever with answering machines that have a time limit.

I have to get ready now for my massage. I know you feel sorry for me. I've had this ding-dang spa gift certificate for over a year now and I am finally using it. Although the last time I had a one-hour relaxation massage, I had a panic attack during it. So I can make anything awful, really.

Juan Valdez is calling. He and Mrs. Folger say if I don't get some coffee, they're going to ground me. BAH!

June's stupid life · Marvin

Ten years and one week

Today is my 10-year and one-week anniversary. We have officially been married longer than Tom and Nicole. Also? I have officially outlived Elvis.

(I am very concerned with how my life compares to famous people. For a long time it seemed like my life paralleled Princess Diana, without the growing up rich and marrying royalty part. When she finally got cute hair and was soon after dead? You should have SEEN how nervous I got when I finally liked my hair in 1999.

I was acutely aware of the day when I was married longer than Cher and Greg Allman.

Am I seriously the most self-involved person you have ever known?)

So, here we were, 10 years and one week ago:


Marvin Gardensalad looks four. I should have been arrested for trying to marry him.

Here we were last week, at the same bed and breakfast:


I really didn't mean to cut off Marvin's head when I cropped this. I am a terrible wife. And cropper. I would probably make a terrible sharecropper too.

Anyway. As far back as I can remember, I had sort of a dream man in mind for myself, and Marvin is absolutely, 100% that guy, other than the part where he's not Barry Gibb. Seriously, I used to picture what my ultimate man would be like, from personality to appearance to ability to sit through Woody Allen movies, and if I had met Marvin at seven or 17 or 57, he would be exactly who I was looking for.

Do you know Marvin and I dated in college for three terrible months? Years later, I wrote myself a little essay, probably in response to breaking up with someone or other. It was a reminder of all the qualities I wanted in a mate. I titled it, and I am not even kidding, "My Ideal Man, Other Than Marvin."

Okay, I didn't call him Marvin. (Although I have to tell you, it is getting harder and harder not to call him Marvin when I refer to him at work. Soon they are going to think I'm a polygamist. Or Mrs. Cheaty Pants.)

So, I got lucky. I got Mr. Dreamboat, over here, even though there are some days when I want to stick him in the eye with one of those long forks. You know the kind I mean. Like the kind you use at a barbecue. What are those called? Yeah, one of those forks.

Even though I want to stick him in the eye with a mysteriously named fork you use at a barbecue, I know I did pretty well for myself. And he could have done a  lot better.

So, happy 10 year and one week anniversary, Marvin with the Salad and the Garden and the long fork!

That sounded kind of dirty.

Family · June's stupid life · My pets

Chili Cheese Dog Park

A friend asked, "Did your decline in readership begin about the same time as the purchase of your webcam?"

Okay, SHUT UP. My webcam ROCKS. It is perfect for me. All I need is me, writing about me, while taking pictures of me and putting them up on what I wrote. About me.

Besides, my readership is up up up! I think. I can never do the math. Anyway, who cares? Remember I wasn't gonna care?

At any rate, I am trying to write you while I am being STARED at unblinkingly by SOMEONE in the canine family who might have heard me say "dog park," so I must get right to it. There is nothing more penetrating than the stare of a dog. Well, I mean maybe surgical instruments are more penetrating. Perhaps a huge javelin coming at me at 5,000 miles an hour is more penetrating.

You know what I mean.

FIRST of all, which really technically is third of all, as I have already touched on so many important topics, my diet is HORRENDOUS as of late. I had another chili cheese dog from Sonic today. Could someone get me banned from there? They are my kryptonite. My Samson's hair. My Samsonite.

So right now I am being GAZED AT with an intensity UNBEKNOWNST to anyone previously while I am sipping a smoothie. Okay, so a smoothie has 9 hundred billion calories. Still, there is fruit involved. And yogurt. IT'S BETTER THAN A CHILI CHEESE DOG, OKAY? Just cut me some slack, man! I'm tryin'!

I am still trying to be vegetarian, despite the chili, hooves, and snouts lunch. Marvin has done a really marvelous job of providing vegetarian dinners when I get home, so I just have to do better at lunch.

Speaking of Tallulah, which for once I wasn't, several people today have sent me the story of that poor child named Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii. Have you heard about this? Her parents named her that and she got to be a ward of the court and change it.

Okay, seriously. This is why I don't have kids. I would TOTALLY name my child Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii if I thought of it. "Well, we're thinking Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii if it's a girl, and Snaphappy Fishsuit if it's a boy."  I really, really would! And this is why they invented birth control.

Plus, I think Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii should lighten the lei up. It's a GREAT name! It conjures up happy Hawaii plumeria images, don't you think?

But perhaps my perspective is skewed.

When I was a kid, my parents were total hippies. They will deny this, but please. They sat on the floor and drank tea. We made tie-dyed  snowmen. They came to PTA meetings wearing caftans (especially dad).

So, being the big hippies of Michigan that they were, we used to get together and have awareness sessions where we would drink our tea and discuss our feelings over a big fattie. (Okay, there were actually no drugs in their hippie life. It sounded authentic, tho, didn't it?)

Anyway, one night around the hookah my parents said, "June, man, you're your own person, man. Your name is June right now, but whenever you're ready, you tell us what your name really is. Man."

I was four.

I mulled it over for a week or two, in between protesting the war and campaigning for McGovern, and finally I said, "Pam, John, sit down. I have my name." (Yes, I really did call them Pam and John. They did not go in for labels. Man.)

"My name," I announced, "is Sparkly Rose Blossom."

Thank everything they said no. Cause what would I have done with that name? I'd totally be on the pole. Workin' at Scores. At age 43. Mmm. Pretty.

But if you know me, and maybe even if you don't, you know, Sparkly Rose Blossom was really a good pick. I love all sparkly things, and everything should be pink and flowery, if you ask me. So, I have to hand it to myself that I encapsulated myself pretty well. It was way more me than had I chosen, say, Joan Beigesuit or something.

SERIOUSLY that dog has no PATIENCE! Grow up already! Yeesch. I guess Hula and Sparkly better hit the park.

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

Fun with pant holes

You have never seen anyone have more fun with pants. Could I have been putting off my 7-mile run at all?


I am not an animal! I am a man!


How I’d look if I stopped Nair-ing.


This one is sort of obscene. And oh, how I hate my bulbous, Bill Clinton nose.


I finally ran, by the way. Seven miles. The snake is long. Seven miles.

It took a hundred minutes exactly. I know this because the treadmill shut off at 100 minutes. Did you even know it did that?

Anyway, peace out. I threw the pants away. Although I’m sure I could’ve gotten hours more enjoyment from them.

I am berserk · June's stupid life

I see London

Just discovered a HUGE HOLE in the crotch of my pants. Here at work. I am wearing bright blue underwear.  I mean, how did this happen? Did my codpiece make a tear? Did I ride an exhaust pipe to work?

Do you know anyone who runs into more trouble just getting through everyday life? What is WRONG with me?

At least no one will ask me, "Are they pink? Are they blue?"

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

Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to get me to sit. Aren’t you?

So, my dog was supposed to graduate from puppy school tonight. Oh, I had a million jokes about The Graduate I was going to tell you. I was going to say one word — plastics.

But no. We got there and there was a whole crop of NEW puppy school people, all going around the room (not literally) saying who their dogs were and why they were coming to obedience training. It was kind of like that scene in St. Elmo's Fire when they go to their old bar and there was a new gang of college students at their regular table.

Anyway. Either Anita our teacher got the date wrong, or Marvin did. Either way, my dog has not graduated. She is a dropout. Perhaps later she can get her GED. Or her DOG or whatever. I don't know how she expects to find gainful employment without that diploma. I had dreams of her becoming a game show host, like Bob BARKER.


Or an actor like Sam SHEPHERD.

Bah. Again.

I went back to work today. I had barely put my purse down when 8,000 people ran in and gave me stuff to do. Okay, I've been there THREE MONTHS. What did you all do before I got there? Yeesch.

At any rate, I was working away, and I rested a large book against the keyboard, and I am not even making this up:

That book hit SOMETHING, and suddenly? Everything on my computer screen turned




Seriously. I am not even kidding you.

Sometimes it feels like things only happen to me.

I had to go find the computer guy, who is already bemused by me, as all computer guys always are. When I was new, he asked me what kind of computer I had at home and I said square and beige.

When I found him, I said, "Mike? Something so stunning has happened to my screen that I can't even try to explain it. You must come here."

"These things only happen to her," Mike told the guy he was talking to.

You should have seen the two of us, hanging like bats in front of my computer screen. And the MOUSE worked opposite, too. So that made it easy. Finally, we were in hysterics. It was just so ridiculous, as Ricky Ricardo would say. We got online, upside down, and upside down we typed "computer screen is upside down" and believe it or not we figured out how to fix it.

Wanna try it? I can't get it to work on this computer, but maybe it will on yours. You need to hit Control/Alt/and the down arrow all at the same time. Then to fix it, and I do hope you read this before you do it, otherwise all the blood is rushing to your head right now, you hit Control/Alt/up arrow.

What were the CHANCES that my book would hit just those three keys? I felt like maybe I'd suddenly been transported to China or something, to the other side of the Earth.

So, it was a topsy-turvy day. I think I was framed.


You know you've missed me playing with the webcam.

June's stupid life · Photo essays · Travel

My Summer Vacation by June

Fourteen hundred miles round trip? Like this:


No, seriously. There were about five minutes in West Virginia where I was all GET OFF OF ME! But she breathed on my arm and looked so sad. And she knew the minute she could get away with coming back on, too.

And I enjoy Marvin taking pictures while hurtling down the freeway. Safe.

We spent the first night in a hotel, and someone Gladys Kravitzed out the window the whole time.  ABNER!


We saw many old friends and also our relatives. Dscf1034


At a restaurant, I let my friend's kid take pictures, but she didn't have the whole "which way to turn the camera" thing down.


Finally, we got "up North." I promise that's the last time I say that stupid redundant phrase.


Yes, Gus was there. My mother felt sorry for him and sprang him from the kennel. He spent much of his time looking at Lula out of the corner of his eye and growling. She didn't care. She was too busy getting incredibly dirty.


"This is how I should be all the time. I do not know why I speak in italics."

Marvin enjoys stupid hats at any time, but especially in nature. I do not know why mom is sporting a bolo tie. Perhaps it's her house key? Maybe she will write in and tell us.


I tried to make Lula dress up for my birthday.


Yeah, no.


Notice she brought her hippo on vaca. That hippo never gets a day of rest. Who puts white carpet in a cottage? With a lake, and mud, and 17 dogs?

Some of my friends and many of my relatives drove to my mother's cottage for the big day. What do you want from me? I am an only child. My birthday has always been gargantuan. I am sure everyone wants to slap me. I want to slap me.

At any rate, a good time was had by all.


This is my Uncle Leo, who is 1/117th Mexican and who is obsessed with his Mexicanness. He just spent four months in Mexico, in fact, and came back to say things like "Caaancuuun," with this phony accent he adopts whenever he says Spanish words. Fortunately, he is asleep, so he doesn't hear me making fun of his 1/1000th drop of Mexican blood. Shhh, let's go somewhere else so we don't disturb his "siiiiiiesta!"

We went back to the scene of the crime for our anniversary, and stayed in the bridal suite again.


Phony flowers aside, it is lovely there. Right at 6:00, which is when we got married, we went back down to the water and made fun of our vows.


My mother and I both have a photo of me on these stairs on my wedding day, without that stupid "Welcome to our Inns" sign, thank God, and I was gonna put that photo up with me doing this stupid pose, and do you think I can find that picture anywhere? It used to be on my vanity, and it occurs to me I haven't seen it since we moved into this house. Crap.


Anyway. We do not usually go in for fancy dinners much, but we decided to eat where we got married, as they have a nice restaurant there. Oh, it was good.


The chef knew it was our anniversary, cause we had run into him down by the water during the making fun of our vows part. Hence the heart.

So, it was a good vaca. Don't you hate people who say "vaca"?


It's not back fat. I am storing chipmunks in my bra. Keep them warm for winter.

I am berserk · June's stupid life · Travel

June, your 43-year-old blogging pal, returns.

Okay, first of all? To everyone who actually knows me and who was part of the ONE HUNDRED FORTY SEVEN (literally!) emails I have since I went "up North"? I have been without contact to the outside world. I have been like the Unibomber, or that grizzly guy. There is no phone at my mother's place up there, and no Internet, obvs.

Anyway, those of you who know me, thanks for the birthday greetings, and yes I know you do not have my new phone number in Greensboro yet. We put off getting a real phone so we just got one and I was all swept up in World's Largest Textbook proofreading assignment; I haven't had a chance to send out a "We've Moved" thingamabob.

And I will answer emails thanking you for the bday greetings when we get back to Greensboro tomorrow night. Hey, how'd you guys know it was my birthday, anyway?

By the way, why do they no longer make pre-done "We've Moved" cards? I searched high and low. I did, however, buy some really pretty stationery with brown birds on it, so if you know me, look for the brown bird "We've Moved" note coming soon.

So. Other than flashing the maintenance guy, my birthday was fun.

I was at my mother's cabin, and as we were putting things away on the first day, she said, "Oh. The propane tank is leaking. We may blow up, and we certainly have no hot water."

Okay, now, what now? I don't care if we blow up, but I will need to SHOWER. No hot water?!?! I hate to be all Zsa Zsa Gabor, but again, NOW, WHAT, NOW?

Of course, as I have mentioned, there is no phone up there, so like Ma Ingalls or something, my mother had to drive into town (Ma was often gettin' into her SUV to make calls from town) and call the propane guy. So on the day of my birth, we knew propane guy would come at SOME point, we just didn't know when.

Well, this is not good for someone like me. We had 750 people coming up for this birthday dinner and I looked like sparklefraffle. Have you SEEN my hair in the morning? I look like a dead dandelion who mated with a mountain goat.

Finally, I decided I could not take a chance at friends and relatives seeing me in this shape. So folks, I took a cold shower.

It was in the top five of the worst experiences I have ever had.

Do you know Katherine Hepburn took a cold shower every morning? This could explain her terrible shaking.  IT IS SO PAINFUL! You can't even really BREATHE right, it is so awful. And I had to do it all: wash, condition, shave the legs. I mean, it was my BIRTHDAY, I had to look nice.

I got out of that torture chamber, wrapped a towel around me, and went into the living room to complain. "That was HIDEOUS!" I screamed, running into the room.

"Um. Ma'am? Do you know where your thermostat is?"

It was the propane guy. Gettin' a nice look at my middle-aged self all in my Royal Canon. Nothing comes between me and my Royal Canon.

Is Royal Canon a towel or a typewriter? Whatever.

Of course, the worst part of this story is that seeing as propane guy was THERE, it meant that 20 minutes later the water was warm.

I hate everything.

Anyway, I am in my mother's basement and I have much to tell you about our anniversary and our dog and how I have been a poor vegetarian (but a good runner!) but Marvin is all antsy to get on the road back home. I am looking forward to holding Miss Dog Pants and her enormous blonde butt for 600 miles again, too.

So I will talk at you soon. Please be sure to send lots of emails telling me how you can't get ahold of me during the rest of my vacation. I love that.

Family · June's stupid life · My pets

Say yes to Michigan. But don’t say yaaaaaa.

I came down to the basement to blog, and now my mother is sitting ONE INCH from my head, in the rocking chair next to the computer, hoping I can come up with a dinner plan for tomorrow.

Okay, has she MET me? If it were up to me we'd all be eating Lean Cuisines tomorrow.

So, my mother's dog attacked my dog. We were worried about this. We met in a park, hoping the neutral territory would make Gus less attacky. Instead, when my mother opened the back window of her SUV, Gus JUMPED out and directly onto Tallulah, and Tasmanian Devil-y said, "Rrrruuuruuublablablaruu!"

And Tallulah said, "Yipyipyip!"

We don't think teeth ever really entered the picture, but it was scary enough and now Gus is at the kennel. I used to like Gus.


Here he is last fall, at my mother's place "up North," where we will be going without his bitey self in about an hour.

Other than dog drama, things are fine. We went to a Greek restaurant last night and I had spinach pie and some sort of Greek potato thing and man, it was good. And yes, my mother-in-law DID run with me yesterday, and for whoever asked, she is in her mid-60s. She works out like 750 times a week. She'll go to three classes in a row at her gym and stuff like that. I know I am totally making her sound like an exercise bulimic right now, but she isn't.

I had better go get ready to be northern now. I am interested in seeing whether Tallulah will swim. Oh, and I think I forgot to tell you that we pulled over to see Alpacas the other day, and Lula? Not such a fan of the Alpacas. I'm thinking her dream of retiring and owning an Alpaca farm will not work, seeing as every time she sees her moneymakers her hackles will go up like a pterodactyl and she'll say, "rrrrrrrrrrrrrRORRORORORORORORWWWW!gggrrrrrrrrrrr…"

That is the third dog sound effect in this entry.

Oh, and speaking of sounds? People of Michigan? YOU DO NOT HAVE TO SPEAK THROUGH YOUR NOSES! Seriously! Try this. Say, "dot com." It is not "daaaat caaaaam." Really. You have a whole larynx and voice box and everything. Give your nasal passages a rest. I beg you.

Now that the whole state hates me, I will go partake in your northern prettiness. In the caaaaabin.

June's stupid life · Marvin · Travel

Like a princess she was laying there (lying)

You know it's gonna be a good trip when you aren't even out of your town yet and your husband says, "Are you gonna talk this much the whole trip?"

Also, turns out? Tallulah feels a tad uncomfortable on the long car ride. And we've rented a van, because 1972 called and wants its ride back, and despite the cavernous space between our tiny bucket seats–a cavernous space that might include somebody's blanket, water, toys and 17 bones–SOMEBody just wanted to ride on my lap.

I had 40 pounds of dog on me for 569 miles. We have a picture of it, but I am on Margin's mother's computer so I can't upload or download or tote the weary load to show you the picture. But basically she was too big for my lap so I spent the entire 569 miles scooping her butt onto the chair. Comfy.

And yes, this WOULD be the perfect time to say, "She THINKS she's a lap dog!"

Woo! Not annoying to me at all.

Anyway, we took two days to get here, stopping off at the home of every ex-girlfriend Margin has ever had. Fortunately for me I like all of Marvin's ex-women, and was not so offended at the Places I've Dipped My Wick Tour 2008. I got a nice tour jacket out of it.

And last night we got together with some old friends I haven't seen since my wedding day (and who desperately tried to find her veil, thinking it'd be hilarious to have it on as though I hadn't taken it off in 10 years?), and also one of–you guessed it–Marvin's old girlfriends. I know. He is Warren Beatty of the Detroit suburbs. This particular ex-girlfriend not only reads this blog–hi, ex!–she also brings me books, so right there she can do no wrong.

And you know, technically I am Marvin's old girlfriend, seeing as we dated in 1986 and broke up for 10 years. So his tour really was all-inclusive.

Oh. And my mother-in-law made steak last night and I split one with Marvin. I know, I am a horrible person.

But speaking of my mother-in-law, we are going running now, because she wanted me to go to kick boxing and spinning with her this morning–I am not even making that up–and I told her to eat my shorts. So instead we're gonna run.

Maybe we'll run into someone Marvin used to date while we're out.

Friends · Health · June's stupid life · Photo essays

Hey, did you know I have a birthday coming up?

Your gal June just ran six dinglity dang miles. Thank you.

We went to the high school track, which by the way our high school's mascot is the whirlies or something. Twenty-four times I ran around that track, and each time I saw, "Go, Whirlies." What is a whirly? Isn't that that thing where they stick your head in the toilet and flush?

At any rate, Marvin and Tallulah walked around the high school for awhile, then finally they sat in the stands and read a book. Well, Lula didn't. She really isn't into fantasy literature, which is what Margin was reading. Okay, who is getting the biggest kick ever out of "Margin"?

So, Marvin was all engrossed in his book, but Lula watched me every single time I ran past her. She was sittin' up, lookin' all Labby, like, "No one is chasing her. What is she doing?" Finally, I couldn't stand her cuteness and I got her leash and took her around the track with me a few times.

Okay, who is a gazelle? Geez, she runs like the wind. I kind of run like that puff of air you get when they test you for glaucoma. Puff! That was really unpleasant, and now it's over.

Anyway, she wore me out. And it was humiliating, because she'd see I couldn't keep up, so she did this patronizing fast trot next to me.

So now I am home, and I am packed except for toiletries, seeing as I will need them in the a.m. And then tomorrow night I will realize I forgot eleven thousand necessary things. Do you do that too, or are you more organized than that, smugness?

I am tuckered, but I did want to share with you my birthdays past, cause have I mentioned I have a birthday coming up? Don't you just totally want to shove my birthday up my ass by now?


Here I am turning five, with the giant drink in my hand, doing all the talking. My how things have changed. What is sad about this picture is it looks ANCIENT. It's all black and white, everything on at a different angle cause the earth spun differently back then or something.

See the chick with her back to the camera? That is my oldest and dearest friend, Pal from MA, who comments sometimes. She lives in MA. She is not my pal who can't get over the fact that she came from her mother's womb or anything.

Also, the boy and the girl who you can see? That dark-haired kid is a girl. She always had a short haircut, and it never really worked for her. Anyway, her family won the lottery many years later. I am not even kidding. Perhaps she invested in extensions.


There's my Aunt Mary, the one who likes to shop, and me, being eight and into gingham.


Really, how much do you think my mother regretted having kids? I am 16 and not at all an obnoxious teen. And what a snappy, unslutty dresser! Look how I can wear jeans that tight and not muffin top out.

I am also enjoying the pussy willows hanging on the wall, cause there's a look, and I had forgotten about that depressing pencil drawing hanging back there.

That wasn't a real gun, by the way. If it had, my mother would have shot me in my sleep way before I hit 16.


Twenty-five, in London. That girl was the most annoying roommate ever. And she had a boyfriend named Simon, who decidedly was NOT in London with us, and she talked about him 700 times a day. She started nearly every sentence with , "Simon says…" I half-expected to have to take three baby steps and a fire engine.

Carpe Diem indeed. She kissed another boy while we were there. Geez, I hope she never finds this blog.


Thirty and trying not to be depressed about not having a husband. Despite my Scarlett O'Hara at the barbecue thing there with being surrounded by men, I didn't even have a boyfriend at the time.

Nice thigh-highs. I still have that box. I keep all Margin's old love letters in it. That's sort of nice, isn't it? YOU GOT THREE MORE YEARS, SISTER! YOU WON'T BE ON THE COVER OF THE OLD MAID DECK!


Sing with me now, this is 40! Margin threw me a surprise party at the bowling alley. Cause you can take us out of Michigan…

Anyway, I hope to blog at you from the road, eventually. Y'all have a good week and stay out of trouble. Carpe Diem.

Friends · June's stupid life · Marvin

Picture book. Pictures of your house-a, and your puffy hair-a, a long time ago.

Since my birthday is coming up–and I know that is shocking news because I've only brought it up 47 times lately–I have been getting cards from people.

Today I came home to find one such card in its envelope, and it looked a tad… worse for wear. As does my hairdo. Nice puffs on the sides of my head. What humidity?


It is a nice card from one of my friends in Tiny Town. I really doubt she sent it this way. I cannot read the first line of her nice note. Maybe it wasn't nice. Maybe the first line was, "Happy birthday, you skanky bitch." I will never know, as my suspicions are the card lies IN TALLULAH'S STUPID STOMACH.

Why did I pluck this animal from certain death? Why didn't I realize there is a plan for everything? But noooooo. I had to rescue the puuuuuupy. The innocent, fun puppy.

So, listen, pal from Tiny Town. Thanks for the card. It's being digested.


(She wouldn't come out to be photographed. She knows she's a dink.)

On the brighter side, Marvin's anniversary gift was ready today, and it is large, so I couldn't really give it to him on our actual anniversary, on our trip. No, I am not giving him my hair puffs.

Several weeks ago, the old owner of this house gave us a picture taken in front of the house in 1950. She did not give me the picture in 1950. Talk about your several weeks ago. I mean the photo was taken in 1950. So I had the picture mounted and framed. I do not know why I made someone fornicate with my picture before I framed it.

I am on fire today. My puffs are burnin'.

So I asked Marvin if he wanted his gift and of course he said yes, so I said remember that picture we got in 1950?


Okay, I know I took a TERRIBLE picture of the picture. My flash lit up the glass. It is like that kid is having a bright idea or something. But anyway, you get the gist. Our house looks a lot the same, except that screened-in porch is the room I am in now, and it is not screened-in anymore. And that tree is much, much bigger. Probably so is the kid with the aura.

Anyway, this flash that ruins the above picture was taken with my NEW CAMERA that Margin got me for our anniversary. I know, we've opened our gifts and now our anniversary is ruined, but he wanted me to have the camera for our trip. Now you won't have to just see pictures of me in the screened-in porch room, with the fruit label photos in the back.

But here is one more of those photos, with Marvin and me celebrating my new pink camera.


Why's he gotta stick his head right in front of me? Is he taking dink lessons from Tallulah?

Food and Drink · June's stupid life · Proofreading/Copy editing

Myn Statistics


I'm done!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Done! Dun dun dun dun!

I have proofread every ding and also not to mention dang word of that 468-page statistics textbook, not to mention the answer key and the index and the 11 appendices and 14 tables at the end of the book and also the math supplement.

And the answer key for the math supplement.

The stupid thing is in a box and Marvin is taking it to FedEx tomorrow. I was proofing in my car at lunch today and realized I had left the answer key at home. So I had to call beleaguered Marvin and have him read the answers to me. He said if the FBI were listening in, they'd totally think we were speaking in code. "Null hypothesis?" "No, standard deviation."

And do you know I still can't tell you one thing about statistics other than it is hard? I just invoiced the company, as you can imagine, and this was the FORTY-FIFTH invoice I have sent them. Which means at least 45 times, I have read something about statistics. And still? You say statistics and I say "?"

So that is done. Now I only have to worry about my one busy job, and not two. And did anyone notice annoying Sleeping Beauty wanted to know if I was still training for our half-marathon? And the answer is yes. I ran five miles on Sunday, and I am thinking I had better get in another six-mile run before we leave for our trip.

Also, I am doing pretty well on being a vegetarian, other than the chili cheese dog from Sonic during a particularly proofready day. But that is it. I have been having delicious lunches, including the one I had before 10:30 today. Minestrone soup, (I knew someone whose now-ex husband pronounced it "myn-strone" and in my head I always say it that way now), peaches, strawberries, sunflower chips from some hippie chip company and cheese. Some days it is tomato soup instead of myn-strone. And it's all so delish!

Anyway, I am off to not do much of anything. Hmmm. What should my first leisurely activity be?


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

Are you getting it? Armageddon it.

Man, it's busy at work. And apparently, it is only just beginning. Everyone says November is the month you want to pop your eyeballs out. Which sounds lovely. I would, however, prefer to have too much to do at a job than not enough. Isn't it awful when there's nothing to do, and you're like, "How is it 9:36? I looked at the clock seven hours ago and it was 9:35. And 30 seconds."

Anyway, the busier it gets, the more I wish to torment The Girl Who Doesn't Get Me. I do not know why. I like the Girl Who Doesn't Get Me. But she is so smart and professional and serious, it just — I really can't help it — DRIVES me to bug her.

For example, we were both completely exhausted, so we took a break to go to another building, which actually has vending machines. Our building does not. Our building used to be a barn. I am not even making that up. I love this. Also, my office would TOTALLY have been part of the hayloft, which thrills me even more. I do not know why I like this idea. It is very Charlotte's Web/Laura Ingalls Wilder, I guess.

Anyway, GWDGM and I were headed to the vending machines in the hopes the machine would ACTUALLY drop the items we selected, for a change, and I said, "You know, maybe during this busy time — and I will put this in the suggestion box — but maybe they should supply us with cocaine till it slows down."

Total silence.

"I don't think they can do that," she said.

Okay, really? Did you REALLY think I REMOTELY meant that?

Do you think she's in her office just waiting for the powers that be to read my suggestion, and come escort me out?

I am so rubbing powdered donut on my nostrils tomorrow.

Also, sometimes when she's in her office bent over her work, which she is about 12 hours a day, I stand in the hall doing this:


until she notices me.

She tells me I creep her out. Okay, why?

So today, I was in there actually asking her about work, and she has one of those photo holders that's all modern, with those sort of giant paper clips that hold photos in the air, do you know what I mean? Was that clear? Do you see why I don't write books?

Anyway, her three kids are displayed in said holders, so I said, "Hey, I need your help with what style we use for this item. Do we hyphenate it? And also, how old do you want me to be in the picture of me that I sneak into your photo holder?"

She actually laughed at that idea. Her 16-month-old, her six-year-olds, and pretty me, all smiling in the background. Actually, I think the photo above would suffice beautifully.

Family · Food and Drink · June's stupid life · Marvin

Nuttin’, honey

I'm blogging at work again, which is going to make Tee decidedly nervous. I'm on my LUNCH hour, what possible harm does it do to blog at lunch? I guess I will find out when they fire me and I have to wear a barrel.

Why did people wear barrels? Weren't there potato sacks or Nordstrom's or anything they could have utilized instead? I mean, how dramatic. Barrels.

So, regarding my post yesterday, I was NOT trying to let you all know my birthday was coming up; I would never be that subtle. Besides, I won't even be reachable on my birthday, as Marvin and I will be at my mother's cottage in northern Michigan, or "up North," as they say. Not at all redundantly.

Next week is not only my birthday, it is also the 10-year anniversary of being married to the Gardensalad. Who I got really mad at about cream cheese this weekend. Anyway, we are taking Tallulah and driving to Michigan, where my mother is going to give me some furniture that she has been wanting to give me just forever, but I always lived in California and it was not possible to get said furniture to me.

Well. I didn't ALWAYS live in California. If I did, my mother would not have ever met me.

Anyway, after the receiving of the furniture, we will all drive en masse to my mother's place on what I guess you could call a lake, but that makes you think of some massive body of water, which isn't really accurate. Maybe we could say my mother's place on a pond.

I just love it there. There is a dock, which is basically my favorite thing in the world. I love sitting on a dock and watching the water. There is also badminton, which is my second-favorite thing in the world. There are also board games, which my mother will try to get me to play for the 6,740th time, and which I will refuse to play for the 6, 740th time.

After our days on the pond, Marvin and I are returning to the bed and breakfast where we got married, and we're spending our 10th anniversary back in the wedding suite, where we hope to again open lots of checks.

Okay, I'll just tell you, cause you're all gonna comment asking what about the cream cheese. So, since I am working full-time and driving 80 minutes a day and then proofreading that 468-page statistics textbook in my "spare" time, I told Marvin that he had to take over everything else for now, including food. So when I woke up Saturday I asked Marvin to go get bagels.

He came back 487 minutes later, because it always takes Marvin a lot longer to go do things than it takes me, and he said, "Now, don't get mad."

You guys. So many, many times, Marvin and I have gotten in fights because I have sent him to get something and he came back with the wrong thing. Like, once we were having a party and I was doing everything frantically and I gave him a list of things to run and get at the store, and he came back with half the stuff on the list. "Where is the garlic?" I asked him, naked with wet hair and 15 unblown balloons in my hand. "I figured we had to have garlic, so I didn't get any."

You do not know the blows we have come to. Don't even ask about the time he got tomatoes and not tomato paste. One wonders why I don't just give up and go get the stuff myself, but I always seem to forget that these tragedies are gonna happen.

So on Saturday when he said, "Don't get mad" I knew I was gonna be mad. It alllllll comes rushing back to me every time it happens again.

Marvin got (are you ready?) onion bagels and HONEY WALNUT CREAM CHEESE.

Now, what freak would think that was a pleasant combo? How did the bagel store even allow him to leave like that? Don't they have measures in place?

And what's worse is when he does this, he acts like I am the fussbudget. Like annnnnnnyone else would be HAPPY to eat an onion bagel with honey walnut cream cheese, it is just diva me, over here, who cannot abide by it.

Anyway, terse words were exchanged, although I did apologize later. And I ate the onion bagel with the honey walnut cream cheese. If I am lost at sea for a week and a half, and the boat that finally rescues me presents me with only onion bagels and honey walnut cream cheese, I promise you I will wait till we get to shore.

Anyway, we're celebrating 10 years of this next week. I think 10 years is the honey walnut anniversary.