June's stupid life · Music

I’m aliiiiive!

At work till 7:00 tonight. Hate.

So I will write tomorrow, or late tonight. But I wanted to say hi and put a terrible song in your head, which I similarly put in the heads of my carpool:

Gonna find my baby, gonna hold her tight, gonna grab some afternoon delight. My mama always said if it's right it's right why wait until the middle of a cold dark night?

(Why is his mother giving him time-of-day-to-do-it advice?)

Wheeeeen everything's a little clearer in the light of day. Wheeenn you know the night is always gonna be here anyway.

Skyrockets in flight! Afternoon deliiiight!

Aaaafternoon delight!

You're welcome.

Film · June's stupid life · Marvin

Cuba, France, college

Well! That was a lively political discussion. And people were pretty much kind to each other, which is good. I mean, does passionate have to translate to unkind?

In the meantime, I have just seen my new favorite movie, which is, like, 10 years old. What do you want from me? I'm a busy executive. It's the French movie Amelie; did you ever see it? Oh! How I loved that movie. It made me want to have short hair, but I won't open that can of annelids again.

You have to be okay with subtitles to enjoy Amelie.

Do you know what irks me? I mean other than shoe boots, that Oxy-Clean guy who feels the need to shout, and people who say, "The thing is, is…"

Now, as usual, I've forgotten what I was going to say.

Oh! Yeah! When people say it was a good movie, but it was long. Now, for me, if I am enjoying a movie, I lose all track of time. Sometimes I forget I'm alive altogether. I never, ever notice if something is long. Do you?

Also today, Marvin and I decided to throw caution to the wind and go to the neighborhood where the university is and eat Cuban food. Then when we got there, we were right in the middle of some sort of festival, which was fun. I have no idea what they were festivaling over, maybe We Are Celebrating Our Total Lack of Having Any Real Responsibility or something. The We Have Those Sticks Where We Juggle Some Sort of Hackeysack Festival. I don't know.

Did you ever notice at every college town there are tons of college students, natch, and then maybe one percent of the population is really scary-looking old people who never left their college town? I think I was one job offer away from being that person. I went to college for seven years. It's pretty bad when you watch TWO groups of people graduate.

We walked around through the neighborhood with all the student housing and pretended I was taking Marvin back to my apartment to seduce him, which is pretty much what did happen in college anyway.

Did you know Marvin and I dated for three horrible months in college? I guess you do, if you read our scathing Marvin interview last month. Where he revealed I was a tramp.

Anyway, the big news is that I found some new silver flats in said college part of town, for $26.99. I guess I am obsessed with silver flats. They're so versatile, though. They're the black tights of the 2000s.

I miss black tights. Are they back in yet? Are velvet minidresses? I miss those, too. I also miss finding anything I actually like at the Gap. I hate being old. I am the age my grandmother was when I was born. Granted, my parents were 11 when I was born, but still.

And speaking of being old, I am going to turn in now. It's 10:26 on a Saturday night. Fifteen years ago, I'd just now be having my shower wine. Did you do that? Where you had your first glass of wine in the shower, before you went out? Was that just me? Drinking the wine before I put on my velvet bodysuit and black tights? Now here I am, getting ready to put on my sock monkey pajamas and floss for an hour and a half.


Food and Drink · Health · June's stupid life · Photo essays

Pie and I got back together

Have I mentioned I feel hideous? Oh, with the body aches and the sniffing already.

Today at work we had our quarterly meeting wherein we celebrate whatever birthdays happened in the past three months. Therefore we celebrated mine and I'm afraid there was…pie.

Now, isn't the NAME of this blog Bye Bye, PIE? Yeah.

I had a healthy lunch, which was provided by my workplace as well. I had water instead of the Cheerwine I so desperately wanted. And when the pie came around I turned it down. Well.

You should have HEARD those enabling coworkers of mine. "Come on, June, apple pie has APPLES in it!" "Yeah, and the pecan pie has Omega 3s!" "What about sweet potato pie? There's a vegetable serving right there!"

After the second time the pie tray came around, I caved. I had HALF a piece of pecan. Do you like how I went for the unhealthiest one of the three?

Then tonight I had Weight Watchers and I lost…two ounces. TWO OUNCES! All that starving all week, for naught. The woman in my department actually was good all week and she didn't even lose anything. Dang!

So, I am going on the Core thing. Which you all seemed interested in my doing anyway. I think there is no pie in Core.

I am pleased to tell you that one person at the meeting said to me, "If I were as small as you, I wouldn't be sitting here." I told her my goal was to get down to my birth weight.

I have to go because I can't bend over the computer without my nose running. Also, I want to put on my pajamas and lie on the couch and complain. Tallulah is in here with me, and her tail is wagging and she keeps accidentally playing the guitar with said tail. I heart her.

I will leave you with some pictures I took last weekend at the Greek festival we went to, where everything was certainly blue and white. I photographed everything I couldn't eat.


Clearly, I can't eat Marvin, as I am not a cannibal. My, he looks excited to be there. What do you think is the difference between take-out dinners and pre-sold dinners?


Nope. Can't have any pastries pastries.


I'd love to have me a beer-a or a wine-a at the taverna. But no. What the heck is Greek beer? Beer with feta cheese in it? Beer in a blue and white bottle?


At this point, I am willing to just eat the back of that guy's head.


Did you ever know that you're my gyro? (The other editor at work pronounced it "gii-row" the other day and I wanted to correct him so bad.)


Me, eating nothing. Thank goodness I sacrificed so I could lose that two ounces. You can really tell, though.

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

Lunch: lettuce, tuna, fat-free, sugar-free pudding, and a giant box of Kleenex

I feel crappy. My throat is so hurty! Marvin had a cold all last week, because he teaches those germ-ridden, Typhoid Mary children all day, and I just formed the thought yesterday, "Gee. I didn't catch that cold" and boom. God hates me.

So basically, all I want to do is lay my head on my desk and have me a catnap. Which they would probably frown upon at work. But I am already disappointing, so who cares?

Anyway. How are y'all? Hey, was anyone worried sick about how I'm doing on the lack of caffeine? I have now got it to about an 80/20 ratio, with 80 being decaf. And no withdrawal headaches anymore! Maybe I got a cold because I don't have enough caffeine. My defenses are sleepy.

And oh! I wanted to show you my idea for what Tallulah and I can be for Halloween:


We can be envelopes! 

I love Madeline, and I just noticed Tallulah looks like Genevieve. Now all we need is a yellow hat and an invitation to a Halloween party.

One year, another couple and Marvin and I decided it'd be hilARious to go as ABBA. I'd be the blonde, natch, cause I called it first. We even had our outfits picked out: one time ABBA showed up in native animal Tshirts.


Like, the blonde hot one had a squirrel shirt on or something. (I can't believe I actually found a photo of them in the outfits.) We were gonna do a little dance routine where we sang back to back. Oh! We loved ourselves.

And then? Out of all four of us? NOT ONE OF US GOT INVITED TO A SINGLE HALLOWEEN PARTY! Popular.

Tell me Marvin wouldn't look great in those tight overalls. And puffy sleeves.

Maybe I'll just wear the above outfit to work, on casual day.

Anyway, lunch is nearly over and I have to go from office to office to remind people that I feel awful. Everyone suffers if I do.

Food and Drink · Health · June's stupid life

Hold it! Hooollld it! Breaking Biscuitville News!

During my 3 p.m. walk at work today, I learned from a local that the little biscuit sandwiches I ate were PARTY biscuits, and not the regular ones. Wooo!

So, I had 10 grams of fat for breakfast, not 60. Okay. Now I can eat today.

Party biscuits. You call that a party? It was kind of fun to eat them, actually.

Food and Drink · June's stupid life

Today’s food groups: fat, fat, fat and oh yes, fat.

We had an 8:15 meeting this morning, and our boss brought ham and sausage biscuits from Biscuitville for everyone. Whenever I see those Biscuitville signs I think of my cat Francis, making biscuits on me. If you have a cat, you know what I mean. If you don't, you are seeing my cat in a chef's hat with a little rolling pin and me covered in flour. Whatever.

They were so tiny, the biscuits from Biscuitville. They were like little Thumbelina biscuits. So I had, you know, three.

And yes, I am aware that sausage and ham are not generally considered "vegetarian." Rules. Why must there be so many of them?

I knew these weren't exactly dietetic, but when I got back to my desk, I Googled the website for Biscuitville.


EACH BISCUIT HAD TWENTY-THREE GRAMS OF FAT! TWENTY-THREE! They were so TINY! I'm telling you they were small. How do you fit so many grams of fat in something so teensy?

So, before 9 a.m. I had already eaten all my points for today AND TOMORROW.


Grammar and Spelling · I am berserk · June's stupid life

I’d walk a mile for a Camel. But my pedometer would say I walked .70.

I am the only person you know who has a nervous fit over a pedometer.

Yesterday I decided to go up to the attic, not because I was hoping Greg Brady lived up there, but because it seems like we tossed an inordinate amount of stuff  up there when we moved in that — turns out? — I would like down here. Like my diffuser, for example. I specifically BOUGHT my blow dryer because it had a diffuser, and could I find it anywhere? Every day I go to work looking like Angela Davis because I don't have a diffuser.

Tallulah is horrified of people going up to the attic. I do not know why. Was she Anne Frank in another life? All I know is that when Marvin goes up there, she goes tearing into whatever room I'm in and tries to get on my lap. And no, I am not going to say, "She THINKS she's a lap dog!"

So, up there in the attic I not only found the journal coffeegal made for me that I've needed, because I used to write all my running times in there, but also my heating pad, my grandmother's pot holder hangy on the wall thingy, several diaries which I think I should copy for you because you will DIE when you hear what a nutbar I was in 1987, and also a brand-new pedometer, still in its earth-unfriendly packaging, that I bought at the beginning of this healthy year.


As you know, if you think of nothing but me and my life (you know what I hate? The word "lifestyle." I had a professor who said people who say "lifestyle" rarely have either. I also hate the "word" mindset), you know that I go walking twice a day with several people from work. I have always been curious about how far we walk. So I said, Hey! I will take my pedometer to work and figure out how far we've been walking!

Now, this is something a normal person might do, and their curiosity would be assuaged, and that would be that.


When I got to work and removed the-polar-bear-will-be-swimming-for-his-ice-for-a-long-time-at-this-rate plastic packaging, there were instructions on how to get the pedometer to know how far you have been walking. You have to measure your strides. I did not take this in stride.

I went into the hallway and walked rapidly for 10 paces, then I turned back around, and slowly, like I was on one of those really slow walking pilgrimages, or taking a sobriety test, walked heel-to-toe back to my start point. I did this in front of GWDGM's office, and she didn't even ask.

Then I went in and did "math" to figure out my stride rate and put that info in the pedometer.

Okay, right when we said "math" we were in trouble. I went on my first walk at 10 a.m. and after our usual 18 minutes of walking, the thing said we'd gone .61 of a mile. Okay. No, we hadn't. We had to have gone WAY more than that. Point 61 of a mile. Whatever.

At lunch, my hearty Weight Watcher's I-had-a-piece-of-lettuce-and-may-vomit-it-up-tonight-so-I-can-count-it-as-activity-points lunch, it occurred to me that every day I sit in the shade in the middle of…A WALKING TRACK. They have a walking track at work. Seven times around it is a mile.

I dashed right back up to my office like Jude Law was up there. I grabbed that pedometer, recalibrated it for longer strides, and got on the fascinating track.

Everybody in North Carolina waves at each other, by the way. So when you pass someone on that track, even though you may work with that person eight hours a day, and even though you have waved at them the LAST time around the track, you are still supposed to wave. I think waving counts as activity points too. Imagine how many I'll get for vomiting lettuce and waving at the same time.

Girl, I went around that thing seven times and do you know what the pedometer told me? POINT SEVEN TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! POINT SEVEN TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

At the three o'clock break, I could think of nothing else. I blew off my walking group, recalibrated AGAIN, went back to that track and got…..83.

I hate everything.

If you think I'm not gonna try again tonight on my treadmill, you do not know the depth of my obsessive disorder.

And my diffuser? In the hall closet the whole time.

I leave you with this:


What do they mean? Are we supposed to place our pretend shoes there? Is it a euphemism for "bras"? What?

Food and Drink · June's stupid life

The party is in my pants. So the party is in the dryer, then.

I haven't got time to talk to you, girl. My dinner party starts in less than an hour, and my large hair and I are ready. I am just waiting on my jeans to dry. I look annoyed in this photo, but I'm actually not annoyed about anything. Except perhaps the width of my hair. And nose.


The salad is made, the horse's ovaries are in the fridge, and the lasagna is ready to bake. And that forbidden key lime pie is defrosting, even though my mother told me I might was well slap each guest in the face and shove a hot corncob up their rears, it's so awful to serve store-bought pie. Okay, Ma Ingalls.

I did want to pop in and say hello, and show you my new shoes before I go, which I purchased for $10 at the T and J Maxx today. I had to totally contort myself to take this photo on the webcam.


This picture is a little The Graduate-esque, with Winston playing Dustin Hoffman's part. You're trying to spay me. Aren't you? I love capturing Winston in action like that.

Anyway. The shoes. They are silver. They are tall. They are partaayyy shoes. I am in love with my shoes. Is that so wrong?

Okay. Gotta go blow all my points now. It's lasagna, folks. I hate to be all Garfield on ya, but come ON. Points schmoints.

Health · June's stupid life

Cat, skinned = 10 points

Holy frijoles, is there ANYONE who hasn't been on Weight Watchers? Man!

Let's talk about how hungry I am. I am watching Winston clean himself and I'm wondering how he'd taste with a little Stove Top shoved in him. My problem was, I started off the day with some of my old, fattening yogurt, and it turns out that's worth four points, which basically meant I was out of points by noon.


Other than my ravoneous hunger and desire to eat house pets, I have big plans for this weekend. Tomorrow night I am having my first Greensboro dinner party with two other couples. Of course I am serving lasagna, as it is the only thing I know how to make. I am going to have to figure out how many ridiculous points my lasagna is, because there is no way I am making it and not eating it.

I came up with a brilliant plan, actually. I am going to prepare said lasagna tonight, and then I'll just have to bake it tomorrow. I am doing this because every time we ever have anyone over, it ends up with it being 10 minutes till people are getting here, and I am crying and naked with wet hair, rushing around like a loon.

I knew I was getting old the day my house and food presentation were more important to me than my personal appearance. I used to spend four hours getting myself ready and the house/food prep involved tapping the keg.

Did anyone else ever make earrings out of the plastic top of the keg? Or was that just me?

Also tomorrow, I am getting up early and going to Winston-Salem to see my carpool buddy, Tank, run a 30k. I have no idea how far a 30k is. I would guess it involves a lot of ks. Are the ks in "10k" the same kind of ks in "401(k)"? If so, why does the one go in parentheses and the other doesn't? Did you ever see that Friends episode where Phoebe calls it a four-oh-wunk?

Plus also incidentally too, on Sunday we are going to a Greek festival here in town. Opa! I am going to enjoy seeing gyros, baklava, saganaki, and other things I cannot eat. Perhaps I can drink some Windex.

Marvin just came back from walking the dog. He just said, "The way I see it, if she dooks on someone's lawn who has a McCain sign? I don't need to clean it up."


Health · June's stupid life · My pets

Maybe Weight Watchers just means we wear really heavy watches.

Ridiculous Winston killed a chipmunk today, and left it in our driveway. Now I worry about how Chip or Dale, whoever survived, feels.

I have put two different bells on that cat, and he somehow manages to shag them the minute my back is turned. He needs less catbell.

Anyway. I finally got to go back to my Weight Watchers meetings that they have at my work. I did not get to go last Thursday, as I was busy being drugged to the gills and then slid through a narrow tube so that huge amounts of magnets could suck out my brain. Or whatever.

Having an MRI certainly seems to work as a viable excuse; when I told the Weight Watchers leader she was suitably impressed. Of course, I had to tell her all the details. Sorry I wasn't here, they thought I had a brain tumor. That sort of thing.

So now I have to go to the store and buy healthy things for my new diet. I know I have been trying to consume healthy things all year, but now I have paid $144 to do so.

Since everyone else was at the meeting last week, they got to find out if they lost weight, and do you know everyone did? Two people even lost six pounds. Bastards. I had to take a little test to figure out how many points I get to eat in a day, and I tried to convince the leader I was both nursing and a man, but she would have none of it. I get 19 measly points each day.

If you are unfamiliar with Weight Watchers, let me just tell you that a BANANA, a freaking BANANA, is worth 2 points. If that sheds some light on the fresh hell I have just created for myself.

How many points does Winston get for the chipmunk, do you think?

June's stupid life · Los Angeles · Uncle Jim

Tallulah, Oprah, coffee, geese, death, and dip

It was actually rather cool tonight when I walked Tallulah. I'd say this is the first time since May that I did not perspire during the walk. Some woman walking with tiny weights said, "Naace naaght to be out, inn't?"

Why do people walk with those tiny weights? Does it really make a difference?

So, guess what? My Uncle Jim is BACK ON CAFFEINE! He told my mother to tell me I'm off the hook, I don't have to give up coffee to be in solidarity with him. But, if you'll recall, if you memorize my every utterance, I have wanted to give up caffeine for quite a while, as it is bad for my migraines, anxiety, insomnia and teeth grinding.

Other than that, it's fine for me.

And I got over that first awful hump! I think I am going to try to stick with it.

Can I interrupt this post for another Uncle Jim story? Because I just remembered it today and it cracks me up.

So, my Aunt Sue went to the casino and won a bunch of money; I can't remember how much, so let's just say it was $1,700. Enough to be excited about. She called my Uncle Jim to tell him, and to say she was on her way home.

On the way home, Aunt Sue got in a terrible accident. Her car rolled over, and she really thought she was going to die.

After she got out of the car and the police were called, a very shaky Aunt Sue called Uncle Jim. "I was just in an accident," she said. "I think I'm okay, but the car rolled over." Then she started to cry.

My uncle said he was sitting there thinking, "How long do I have to wait before I can ask, 'Is the money okay??? HOW IS THE MONEY?'"

Sue interrupted his thoughts, "I've got the money," she said. "Oh! Who CARES about the money!" said Uncle Jim.

Uncle Jim. Terrible in so many ways. He is really in my top five favorite people.

Other than coffee and my family, I read Oprah this month, because I continue to not be Amy Winehouse even remotely other than that giant Blake barrette I like to sport, and there was a really good article on kind of fooling yourself into eating better. One thing this dietitian said to do was get those veggie party trays at the store, and to put it on the center shelf in the fridge. The article said something like people who put their veggies on the shelves instead of the crispers eat 230% more vegetables.

Well, you know what I found? I found some individual packages of vegetables, and fruit too. So today at lunch I had a little packet of carrots and celery with dip and sunflower seeds, then tonight at dinner I had green apples, granola and the best ding-dang dip ever invented. Now, I know the dip isn't good for me, but I ate way more fruits and vegetables than I usually do.

Also? When I opened up my Oprah–and I do not mean that in a Gayle King kind of a way–there was a big old picture of one of my LA friends! She wrote an article in there and they had a little bio of her! Did her makeup all nice and everything. Slap my arse and call me Sally. It was so exciting!

I guess that is all my news. It is good to be boring again, and not have to get verklempt every time geese fly over. It is nice to know I'm gonna live. Was anyone just a tiny bit disappointed that this didn't turn into the Bye Bye I'm Gonna Die blog? I would be, if I were you. But I am related to Uncle Jim, so…

June's stupid life · Marvin

If that’s true, then how do Eskimos open their doors?

Greetings from that place they call lunch. When Marvin worked on movies, he used to say his two favorite words were, "That's lunch!" I guess that meant we are done filming for now, so go eat at that Craft Services table.

But what do I know. Maybe "That's lunch!" meant Pam Anderson is waiting for you in her trailer. Marvin did work with her twice, and he said she was really great. I always told him that if she wanted to have an affair with him, to go ahead and do it. I mean, who am I to keep him from an experience like that? Plus, I figured if Tommy Lee was her type, what were the chances she'd also be attracted to Marvin, with his Cosmos and his rice pudding and his lack of "MAYHEM" tattoo?

So, last night I put my purse in the freezer, on purpose. I went into the dining room and said to Marvin, "My purse is in the freezer because I have a frozen thing I want to take as my lunch tomorrow, and I will forget it unless I have to go in the freezer for my purse."

Marvin was obsessed. He got up and looked in the freezer, as though this were a treasure hunt or I was joshing or something. "Your purse is in the freezer," he said. Like this was news to me.

An hour later, he came in and said, "I took your keys out of your purse. Freezing them is going to ruin them." Okay, really. How is freezing my keys going to ruin them? Then he worried that "all the credit cards" were going to be unusable, as well. I have one credit card with a $500 limit on it. And besides, don't people freeze their credit cards all the time to keep themselves from buying things from infomercials?

(Once I was up really late and Marvin woke up to find me dialing the phone. "What are you doing?" he asked me, all cranky-faced. "I'm buying an Escape Your Shape video" I told him, credit card in hand.


And it was right then that we made the "no watching infomercials after midnight" rule that abides in our house.)

I do not know how much Marvin worried about my frozen purse all night, but the point of my story is that I remembered my frozen dinner only to bring it to work and accidentally put it in the fridge instead of the freezer. I just ate it anyway, as my coworker assured me I "probably" wouldn't get ill.

Plus also? I think I may have ruined my hand lotion. I showed the frozen tube of lotion to another coworker and told her the story and she said, "Why didn't you just leave yourself a note to remember the frozen dinner?"


Food and Drink · June's stupid life

Gettin’ the monkey off my back.

I holed myself up in my office all morning, so that I wouldn't see the coffee pot in the break area. That beautiful, beautiful coffee pot. It is now lunchtime, so the dang thing is no longer in use. Thank heavens they don't make coffee all day here. I'd have to pee in my chair.

Actually, I feel a little better today. Sunday and today I think it's safe to say I did more of a 1/4 decaf and 3/4 caffeine in my coffee at home, but even THAT gave me a headache yesterday. Then I always have another cup when I get to work, but today I have not done so. Heart me.

And speaking of health, I asked Marvin to pick me up some yogurt when he went to the store yesterday, and when I got it out to eat for breakfast here today, I noticed that it had expired August 30. So the store is not so reliable about rotating, apparently. Thanks. Thanks, store. Are you and Marvin in CAHOOTS to kill me?

I am sorry to tell you that I then had to go to the vending machine, where I chose a cinnamon bun, which had a sticker on it saying it won "Best Vending Machine Product" for last year. At least I know how to pick 'em. Picking a winner, is what I'm doing.

As my award-winning bun dropped to the bottom of the machine, one woman came by and asked how I was. I said, "I'm doing great, because the machine actually gave me my bun!" (That machine is what you'd call unreliable, if you are being polite. I have used every swear word in the universe for it when it fails to deliver my Reese's Pieces.)

The woman said, "Really, June? Really? Is it a GOOD thing it gave you that cinnamon bun?"

Oh, shut up.

It is now lunchtime and I had better take my nose off this grindstone. Do you think I have time to run to South America at lunch and eat some coffee beans?

Food and Drink · June's stupid life · My pets · Uncle Jim


…inventing things you don’t need to spend your money on, since 1986.


I am particularly taken with how Francis has a little sparkle in each eye. It is the sparkle of evil, trust me.


Going without caffeine. Makes me cheerful. And not at all touchy. And speaking of touchy, my mother feels bad that in the comments a few weeks back, she yelled at Deborah, and now we’ve not heard hide nor hair from Deborah. COME BACK, DEBORAH! MY MOTHER IS SORRY! It is MY job to yell at and alienate readers, not mom’s!

You guys. It is just HALF AND HALF. I am STILL getting half of my caffeine, and yet it feels like I am getting NOTHING AT ALL.


The good news is that my mother’s cousin, Big June, is joining me in this dreadful task. We are doing it together. Sisters in suffering. Cousins in caffeine. Or lack thereof. She, too, is doing this in support of my uncle. What’s funny is, I have no idea if anyone even told my uncle I am doing this. I imagine someone has. We are not what you’d call reluctant to give the info. It is kind of like having TMZ as your family.

Is “not heard hide nor hair” a double negative? My brain is too cloudy to decide. I’m sure I am going to be useful at work tomorrow. And not at all disappointing.

I guess I will crab off somewhere else now. Marvin just told me he was going to band practice and I almost cried. Even though if he were here, all I’d do is yell at him. I can’t imagine why he’d want to shoot off to band practice. Yesterday I cried because the Osmonds are retiring. The OSMONDS, folks.

This may be the first and only time I would pick Juan Valdez over Jude Law.


Mommy scary. I’m hide under curls.

Health · June's stupid life

My magnetic personality

I am at lunch, so Tee, you can relax. But I just wanted to pop in and say I had my MRI and it was almost relaxing. I just kept my eyes closed through the whole thing, so I had no idea that I was in any kind of horrifying tube.

Plus, they played music and I heard that '80s song: Oh! Oh, Sheila! Uh, uh, uh, oh, Shelia. Sheila, baby, can't you see? I love you baby honestly.

You're welcome.

They used to play that song all the time at The Red Elephant, which was a jungle-theme club where I waitressed in 1985. I had to wear a leopard-print outfit. Rowr.

Anyway, obviously I know nothing yet. About anything in life, but particularly about my MRI. I wish they could have just said, "Looks good!" or "Get your affairs in order" or whatever. What does that mean? Like, I am supposed to alphabetize my affairs? What? Color-code them?

At The Red Elephant? People ordered things like Fuzzy Navels. Then they'd go dance to Oh, Sheila. They also played: My girl likes to party all the time, party all the time, party all the tiiiime. Which I believe was sung by Eddie Murphy. And again, you're welcome.

Anything I can do to put a bad song in your head. If I have to have bad things in my brain, so do you.