June's stupid life

Both a little scared, neither one prepared, comment of the week

Why do I even know the lyrics to Beauty and the Beast?

Anyway. I have awarded the prestigious Special of the Week award to Chacha today, who had something pithy to say about KY. Special mention to Ree, who also had a funny Kentucky/KY line.

Probably no one from Kentucky will ever read this blog again.

And as per usual, we have the funny thing J said up in there, too. So go over to the right-hand side to Special of the Week. Will ya?

June's stupid life

Wake June, then Ask Her

Sleepylu

Ask June is sleepy, so she did not even select her Ask June questions using the random pickerizer that she usually uses, rather Ask June just picked the first five unanswered questions that popped up.

And this is an actual, unretouched photo from this morning. I know you are enjoying how the bedspread matches the sheets, and how the carpet matches the drapes. And I'm sure Tallulah is pleased that you are all seeing her morning ears.

 Arlene queries, What is your favorite way to fix that all-American favorite, rutabaga?

When I was little, my mother used to clean my ears with Q-Tips, and this is the second time this week I have mentioned Q-Tips. I would lie on her lap, and I guess to keep me from panicking, she would pretend that she was digging in a vegetable garden. "I see carrots in there!" she would exclaim. "There's a radish!" For some reason, whenever she found a rutabaga I would fall into peals of hysterical laughter, which I also did any time someone said "Spiro Agnew" or "hips."

You're not really supposed to clean your ears with Q-Tips, did you know that? They told me that at the ear doctor last year.

But, now, Arlene, have you met me? First of all, when is the last time I described eating a vegetable? So far today I have had a strawberry Pop-Tart, a chili cheese Frito wrap from Sonic, and a mocha latte. Does the Frito count as a vegetable? I wouldn't recognize a rutabaga if it came out my ear.

Jan asks, What peculiar sayings do you have, where you purposely say something wrong or use wrong words (besides Kermis)?

For those of you just tuning in, and if you did, why? Save yourselves! Turn back! I do say "Kermis" because that's how I misspelled "Christmas" when I was a kid. I also say "What doing?" because my friend's kid used to say it and I am certain she is totally over it by now but I'm not. Really, it's all you need to say. What doing? You don't need all the other pesky words in there.

I have mentioned before that I say "big-bone-ded" because in my family we made fun of someone who said "big boned" wrong and now I have done it for so many years that I can't say it right, and I also say, "Peoples is funny, Jim" because someone once said that to my Uncle Jim and we similarly made fun of that person.

Really, if you are not related to us, we spend a lot of time mocking you once you leave.

Jan also asks, Why Delilah? No, really…Why Delilah don't you live closer to me so we could be buddies?

One time, Jan and her sister were at Panera and the guy at the counter shouted out, "June!" and they both craned their necks looking for me, even though I (a) don't live in their state and (b) am not really named June.

I do feel like I would be friends in real life with so many of you. I feel like I am friends in blog life with so many of you. Sometimes you guys are the brightest spot in my otherwise miserable day. Blogging. It's the quilting bee of the 2000s.

Frost & Oddrey says, A vegetarian? I guess going out for a burger next time you're in town is out of the question.

Frost & Oddrey is an old friend of mine from high school, and the last person I ever threw up with. The year was 1982, the place was the side of his car, the substance was pink Andre champagne.

And Frost & Oddrey, also known as Kim, I am a bad vegetarian. I try. But please see my diet from today, wherein I ate the chili cheese Frito wrap from Sonic. It is Sonic and its siren song of chili cheese that does me in every time. Hate self. Hate chili-cheese-ridden self.

Erin D. inquires, What do you want for Christmas?

Okay, giggling that I didn't pick this question until now. And didn't I already kind of have this question? Nevertheless, I did once make Marvin an "I'll always like the following" kind of perpetual Christmas list so that he'd never be stuck wondering what I'd like. It had things on it like really good stationery (you know, like from Crane. With my initial on it or something. Is it sad that "from Crane" is as high as I shoot?), a Kate Spade bag, a Burberry anything, real perfume (which would now no longer apply, as I am allergic to everything and besides, I own Joy now so what more could I ask for?) and things like that.

Do you think Marvin has ever gotten me one thing from that list? Do you think he probably used that list to pick up after Tallulah on one of her walks? So do I.

That said, I usually do not care that much what I get for Christmas. People think I am way into gifts and I'm not. I mean, if I get something I like, it's exciting, but if I get something I don't like, I still appreciate the gesture. Plus, if it's pink and it sparkles? I will like it.

Thank you for joining me for another chilling week of Ask June.

June's stupid life

A Charmin-g Story

I had to go to Target tonight, to refill my prescription for that lovely elixir Topamax, which not only removes my migraines but also makes me look as though I may have rickets. I have now lost FIFTEEN POUNDS taking Topamax. You can imagine how I didn't want to miss a day.

"Oh, you're going to Target?" asked Marvin, who had been home for hours while I worked, commuted, and got the dog from day care. "We're out of toilet paper."

First of all, Marvin's version of "out of toilet paper" may vary from yours or mine. He loads us up with about 72 rolls of backup at all times. We are always ready for devil's night or a huge bout of Montezuma's Revenge.

Nevertheless, when I got to Target I got one of those hand baskets, because he said we were out of soap, too, and besides, I never get out of Target with what I just came in for. I don't know why Target doesn't place stacks of hand carts all around the store, since everyone I know gets hypnotized by that place and ends up buying a sweater and some stationery and a new toothbrush and some hair gel and a new CD and a shower rack when all they came in for were some Q-Tips.

Well. I am sorry to tell you they were having a really good sale on Charmin, but it was one of those things where you had to buy that huge, huge, tall stack of toilet paper but it was only 69 cents or something. My instinct was that I did not want to be seen strolling around Target with that tower of toilet tissue, but the SIX PACK was more than that huge condominium, so I put it in my cart.

The thing ROSE UP almost as high as my head, and I looked ridiculous, and as I headed to the pharmacy, I thought, "That pharmacist is gonna think I'm going to take a bunch of Topamax and have a big poop fest tonight."

Okay. For some reason, probably because I'm 11, I cracked myself up with this thought. I mean, it didn't even make sense. Topamax kind of stops you up, if you want to know the truth. Nevertheless, every time I got near the pharmacy window, I would think, "Big poop fest" and I would crack myself up all over again and start to giggling and have to wander around in the KY aisle and try to compose myself.

And seriously, when did KY get mainstream? They have a whole litany of products suddenly.

It took me about three tries before I stopped giggling and then the pharmacist was really friendly and I ended up telling her that in fact I was NOT planning a big poop fest that night, and she probably thinks I am berserk.

When I got home, I set that enormous Marcia Brady's house of cards high rise of tissue on the table. Marvin walked in and said, "Did you get toilet paper?" 

June's stupid life

Blood sugar crazy

So, maybe I sat in the parking lot today and waited until Blood Sugar Sex Magik was done playing before I went into work, which meant I got in at 8:04, but do you think that means it was ENTIRELY my fault that we got a department-wide email today about how important it is that we are at our desks every day at 8:00?

Do you think it was a bad idea that I replied to the email with the lyrics to Blood Sugar Sex Magik, explaining how good that song is and how one can't simply just STOP LISTENING right in the middle?

Okay, didn't really do that.

I did wear stripy tights today, though.

Stripe
 
Yes, I do know I look just like the witch the house landed on in Wizard of Oz. The house began to pitch, the kitchen took a slitch…

I have no idea what a slitch is. But it did not bode well for the stripy-tighted witch.

In other news, Tallulah got a bath today at dog day care. You can call them and say, "Will you cut her nails?" or "Will you bathe her?" and they just do it! Because they are also a kennel and grooming facility. It is so conVENient!

Sleepdog

Here she is, right now. You can tell she cares deeply that she is clean. And you know what's bugging me? That tiny piece of Ruby fur right in front of her nose, there. I have GOT to go get it now.

Anyway, so Tallulah's clean, and this, I have to tell you, will obsess Marvin. Whenever Tallulah gets a bath, her clean status is highly important to Marvin.

What you must also know is that when Marvin speaks to our pets, our ANIMAL COMPANIONS, his voice raises about 87 octaves higher than his normal speaking voice. Then he asks these poor creatures the most obvious questions. "Is my girl clean? Did my doggie get a bath? Does she smell good? Are you clean? Are you my clean girl?"

I wonder what the animal companions say about us when we are not home.

Tallulah: What's with that guy and his inane questions? YES. I'm CLEAN. Get OVER it, Bub.

Ruby: It's not the guy I think about so much, it's that girl. What is up with the kisses? She gets her HAIR on me when she kisses me.

Francis: Can we have those two put to sleep?

And speaking of Marvin, which we weren't…

Lemon

I was looking for salsa the other day–which we are ALWAYS out of and it makes me wonder if Marvin does shots of it or if he is a salsa dancer and I don't know it–I came across all of these fake citrus fruits in our fridge doorway. Why? Why do we own these? Is Marvin phobic of scurvy? When he goes out salsa dancing, does he wear a Carmen Miranda costume and he uses these so he doesn't have to keep buying real fruit to put on his head? Is he trying to make homemade 7-Up? What?

And my final pressing piece of news for you today was it was a good mail day. One of my mother's friends sent me a funny gift (shout out to Gwen!), my intellectually stimulating Star magazine came, and my cousin Katie made me a pretty commuter mug:

Commute
 

One hopes this will help propel me to work EXACTLY AT 8:00!

June's stupid life

Chaka count let me tell you what I’m gonna do, will you count for me if I count for you.

Thank you all for thinking of me while you were in the shower today. And if you didn't get a chance to do it today, do let me know tomorrow.

I particularly liked the woman who gave birth in the shower because she was busy counting for me how long it took her hair to get wet. See what you miss when you don't read the comments?

And I didn't have any crafty plan. I just wanted to know how long it took YOUR hair to get wet, as I always feel like I have the oddest hair in the world. But I guess I don't. I was particularly annoyed to read that it only takes my friend Sleeping Beauty five minutes to dry her hair, as Sleeping Beauty has the best hair in the world, and I am not even kidding.

Sleeping Sleeping Beauty this summer. With her good hair.

Sb 001

Sleeping Beauty in 1990. And I am cracking up. But see? She even had good hair then.

I think I actually caught the bouquet at this wedding. Yeah, that tradition is correct, as long as it means EIGHT YEARS LATER you are the bride.

Sbnme 001

June and Sleeping Beauty. What bride? Bride schmide.

Okay, do not know how I got on a trip down memory lane when instead we were talking about how long it took our hair to get wet, but thank you and good night. Guess I had better go email the Beaut who Naps to see if I can put her picture on my blog.

June's stupid life

Chaka count

I need to know this crucial information. When you are in the shower, will you please count how long it takes your hair to get completely wet? Report back to me right here. Thank you.

Do it like this: one one thousand (slight pause), two one thousand, (slight pause), etc.

It takes me eight one thousands. I just know I'm a freak. Well, I'm a freak for asking in general, but then also because I am Chaka from Land of the Lost, with this hair.

Friends · I am berserk · June's stupid life · Los Angeles

Oranges and Lemons

My friend Amy from what I want to call "back home" but what I really need to call "Los Angeles" Photoshopped the Aretha hat on my head in yesterday's post. Here, don't get up.

Mehat

Somehow, that picture got me thinking about how I will do pretty much anything in a photo for a laugh. You have no idea how many brides have called me after their wedding. "We got the proofs back. I can't believe you…did that! Heh!"

Keep in mind I was usually not drunk at these weddings.

I'll hang the asparagus off my teeth like tusks. I'll balance the spoon on my nose. I'll put cherry tomatoes in my eyeballs. I'm sure all of this is making my friend Sandy all the more delighted that I made her guest list next month.

Anyway, I started perusing old photos on this here computer and found all sorts of cool photos I didn't know I had, so I'll throw them in as I talk about whatever unrelated topic I am going to talk about.

Aww2

Emily from Chatting at the Sky told me that some bloggers prepare their posts weeks in advance, which I could never do because I just plop down here and commence to typing. Do you know what I hate? I hate the word "preplan." To "plan" is to prepare ahead of time, so why do we need a word that means to plan to plan?

Meow

Anyway, I did want to tell you the best possible news. Now this I did "preplan" to tell you. Yesterday we were driving to the movies and I saw they opened an Anthropologie here! Oh! Anthropologie is my best best best store.

If you opened my soul and looked at my taste in clothing, there would be Anthropologie. Is it sad that inside my soul is my taste in clothing? Shouldn't there maybe be something deeper in there? Also, I cannot afford Anthopologie, but I am hoping they have sales. Plus also incidentally too, I am thinking that Mr. Anthopologie is PRETTY HAPPY that he chose right now to open a new store, what with the chipper economy and all.

Porch 
This is our back porch on what I again want to call back home and need to start calling Los Angeles. And I'm sorry but look how pudgy! I was about to go on my nightly walk, but where was I walking, Baskin-Robbins? We did live near a Baskin-Robbins, actually. And a Dunkin Donuts. It shows! Dang.

For those of you who actually read Bye Bye Buy, to my left, hanging up at the top was the bucket where the bird nest was.

Pup

Why am I pouting? And who was a baby puppy? Aw.

So, the movie we saw yesterday was Revolutionary Road with Kate Winslett, who spent the entire movie being really sad that she lived in an absolutely beautiful house. I know that this means I am not deep, but really, through the whole movie I was all, But your house is so PRETTY! Why can't you APPRECIATE it? Look at your nice dining room and all this cool '50s furniture!?

Suave

Wow.

My other news is that my father and I are going to road trip to New Orleans later this year.

My father lived in Los Angeles pretty much the entire time we did, and he left pretty much when we did. He and I went on some great road trips during that time, including the part where I dragged him from Wisconsin to Colorado and made him take the entire Laura Ingalls Wilder tour (he kept looking for nearby bars) (and by the way, in South Dakota, the tour guide let me take over, because I knew more than she did). He and I also went on the Mike the Headless Chicken road trip, which is a post onto itself.

Tiny

A photo of TinyTown.

One of my biggest regrets in life was, one night in college, my roommate burst into the room and said to us, "If we get in the car right now, we can get to New Orleans by Mardi Gras. Let's go." Everyone got in the car and did it, except me, because I had a QUIZ. A QUIZ, folks. I got on A on the quiz. They got 800,000 beads and a lifetime of foggy memories.

Now, my father and I are NOT going at Mardi Gras time, because I don't think it'd be fun for us anymore, but I have always wanted to see New Orleans.

Trees

Our neighbors back in LA used to tell us we could pick whatever we wanted because they had so much fruit. So if we needed a lime, lemon or orange, we just went in the yard and picked. It was kind of nice.

Those 1950 brick walls were what everyone had. What did people do before 1950? Did they just not have fences? I guess not. The reason there is that little wrought iron fence, there, is because in our back back yard was a teeny house that an actor rented. Of course. Everywhere we lived an actor rented a teeny house in back. This particular actor at this particular house was nice and actually normal. Sometimes we see him in pizza commercials, or commercials for pharmaceuticals or something.

Orange you glad I told you that?

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

R-E-S-P-E-C-T the comment of the week

Mehat

As much as I get a kick out of my own self, it's that time of the week to get a kick out of my commenters. This week's award goes to Gladys and…Gladys, who tied with herself.

Also, J was funny, as per usual. So go over to the right-hand column to Special of the Week, won't you?

Ask June · June's stupid life

Ask June, Quad Eight

Jammies

In my hometown, they opened the first multiplex cinema in the 1970s. It had four theaters, so they named it The Quad. I remember my father and mother and me driving out there before it opened, because my father had to photograph it for work. At the time, driving to The Quad was kind of a drive out to the country. Now it is surrounded by crap like Applebee's.

Anyway, it was a hit. I was there pretty much every weekend during my teen years. They even had midnight movies, like Rocky Horror, that we would all go to. Naturally, the Quad people decided to expand, and they added four more theaters. They called it?

The Quad 8.

I am sorry, but this is such a my hometown thing to do. The Quad 8. No one seemed to care that that meant THAT IT SHOULD BE THIRTY-TWO THEATERS.

There is also a store in my hometown called Unique Uniforms.

So let's be like everybody else in an original way and plunge forthwith into Ask June.

My Pal from MA, who I grew up with and probably went to the Quad 8 with, asks, "You know what drives me batty? When people write numbers and use 's to mean plural. It's never in the 20's as a temperature. NEVER. It's 20s. It's in the 20s and it's friggin COLD!! Same for things like: I grew up in the 1960s. No possession. UGH. Drives me nuts. Please discuss, June!"

Pal from MA, I feel you on this, really I do. It is not "20 is" degrees. It is not "1960 is." Nor do the degrees or decades own anything. But I am sorry to tell you that some very reputable style guides actually condone the use of 20's. And just typing right now made my parts pucker.

I still feel like it's wrong, and nowhere that I have worked has used it as a style, thank heavens.

Paula, who is pretty swear-y about being from New York, wonders "How do we get the nickname Peggy from Margaret?"

It is funny you should ask this, Paula from New York, %$##@!%, because our next-door neighbor has become a friend and she has always called herself Peg. Then when she started calling us, our caller ID identified her as "Margaret," a fact that annoyed the pee out of Marvin. Of course, just now at dinner Marvin said someone's bra size was 1000 QQQ, so I do not know how aware Marvin is of reality, but he really seemed baffled that someone could be named Margaret and legitimately have the nickname Peg.

The name Margaret has a ton of nicknames associated with it, in fact I'd estimate it had about 1000 QQQ of them. Included in the list are Maggie, Madge, Marguerite, and Meg. Some say "Peg" trickled down from "Meg." And then there's this annoying poem I kept finding when I looked this up online:

In search from A to Z they passed,
And "Marguerita" chose at last;
But thought it sound far more sweet
To call the baby "Marguerite."
When grandma saw the little pet,
She called her "darling Margaret."
Next uncle Jack and cousin Aggie
Sent cup and spoon to "little Maggie."
And grandpapa the right must beg
To call the lassie "bonnie Meg."
From "Marguerita" down to "Meg,"
And now she's simply "little Peg."

Whatev.

M, who is often funny in her comments, queries, "Will you and Marvin dress your hair as the singer with Flock of Seagulls and send us a picture? Thanx."

Dear M,

No.

Flokpik

M's sister J, who is also funny so it must be genetic, wonders, "In the spirit of a Playboy forum question, who sleeps in the wet spot?"

You know, J, it occurred to me some time ago that it was the Playboy Advisor, not Forum. In the original Ask June I said this could be like the Playboy Forum, but it's the Penthouse Forum and the Playboy Advisor. I do not really know why I am so well-versed in men's pornography, but there you go.

That said, Tallulah has not peed in the bed in almost a year.

And finally, Doodles said: "I have a blog question. When people leave comments on your blog, should you respond to each comment? If so, by what means? Email or how exactly? I'm so confused. I don't want to seem rude by not acknowledging them. I'm sure if I had a million readers (like you) I would not be able to respond to each and every one. I'm sure I only have about two readers!" 🙂

When you go on Doodles' blog, it's called Polly Wolly Doodle All the Day.

My friend Lisa's kid would NOT listen to any other song when she was a newborn, which led Marvin and me to become obsessed with that song, as well. He'd be in one room and start singing, POLLY WOLLY DOODLE! and I'd sing back POLLY WOLLY DOODLE! and we didn't annoy the whole world or anything.

And Doodle, no. Stop now with the answering everybody. First of all, you CAN'T email people back on Blogspot and second, you're not supposed to. You'll wear yourself out and start to hate your blog and you'll disappear like Miss Doxie and everyone will say, "Where's Polly Wolly Doodle? (Polly Wolly Doodle)?"

Your blog is the place where you communicate with people, and the comments are where they communicate back. I only email people back if they have specifically asked me to or if I have something pressing to say. And by "pressing" I mean I think I have a funny reply. But I think I respond to maybe 10% of my comments.

I don't think anyone expects you to respond. Although to this day I am a little resentful that Crazy Aunt Pearl never wrote me back even once when I was brand new and didn't know that no one "big" wrote back.

Does anyone else out there have a differing opinion on that?

I am berserk · June's stupid life

Oh…

…and having watched reality TV for five hours straight yesterday, let me ask you this. When women cry on those TV shows, why do they dab their eyes with the Kleenex and then look at the Kleenex? Yes, of COURSE your makeup is running. What to they EXPECT to see there, beaver droppings?

I do not know why, out of anything in the world, I came up with beaver droppings. It's the fever talking.

Health · June's stupid life · My pets

Illin’

Ill

I'm sick AGAIN. I think this is the fourth time I have been sick since Marvin started his school year, and I do blame all those Typhoid Mary children for bringing me all those germs, and also the fact that I don't have a spleen, which apparently makes you susceptible to colds and such and I wonder if this sentence could get any longer.

Anyway, I don't want you to get upset or anything, but I have a fever of 99.3. SHUT UP. It is so a real fever. Normally my real temperature is 97.6, and I know this because I take my temperature all the time.

I actually stayed home from work, and this is the first time in all these stupid illnesses that I have done that, but I did have that raging fever and also I felt like I was swallowing glass and also I have the energy of a tree sloth or Anna Nicole Smith.

Which led me to watch the entire season of Momma's Boy yesterday, which is a reality show produced by Ryan Seacrest where the moms get to pick the sons' girlfriends, and all I can say is, those men will never have a normal relationship with any woman, ever.

RuFran

All this illness has given me quality time with my pets, speaking of inappropriate relationships.

Luhair

I enjoy how Tallulah is perfectly willing to play without stopping for nine solid hours at dog day care, or alternatively, sleep on the couch for 11 hours, getting her hair on the velvet pillows. Whichever.

Feet

Now, everyone's willing to hang here while I post. You'd think they'd worry about catching my disease.

I hope you are all able to carry on with your weekends without worrying about me too much. Save yourselves! I'd want you to be happy!

Friends · June's stupid life

Fwd: Fwd: Fwd This is so cute!

I got put on the Social Planning Committee at work. This means I help plan the throw-downs, the bashes, that we have quarterly, where we celebrate whoever had a birthday and we get a little report about the company. I have been to three of these so far, and they are seriously lacking in liquor and adult entertainment, so that is first on my agenda.

My friend Blanche and I used to walk past this adult theater every night in Seattle on our way to our public transportation. The theater was called The Lusty Lady, and I am sorry to tell you they had absolutely hilarious things written on their marquee every night. It was always our highlight to see what they had up. My all-time favorite was "Et Tu, Booty" but on St. Patrick's Day it read, "Erin Go Braless."

And again I realize that I will never, ever be Grace Kelly, will I?

I have gathered you all here today to complain about email.

Do you know what I like? I like getting real email from people. You know, like "Hey, it's me, your old pal. How you be? I have a corn you would not believe." That sort of thing.

Do you know what I don't like? Forwarded emails. And I get nine hundred thousand of them every day.

First of all, I am NEVER interested in what they tell me. The warnings are almost always untrue (that's why they invented Snopes.com, folks), (and for the record, SERIOUSLY? Does anyone STILL believe this "Bill Gates is gonna give you his money" thing?), the jokes are rarely funny, and I am thrilled that you consider me one of the  10 women you love the most and to show it you are sending me a heart made from parentheses, but if you really loved me you would just send me a real email saying "Hey."

I know this makes me the crabbiest person on earth, but you knew that when you married me. And I should say, for the record, that I KNOW I just sent a bunch of you one of those questionnaires that first I filled out all the answers and then you are supposed to fill them all out and send them back to me. But those are PERSONAL. I get to hear PERSONAL information about you, such as what color crayon you would be.

So, yeah, I can be annoying with my forwards, too.

Oh! And this is the most important part. You know how you get those forwarded emails and you have to scroll down though 87 old paragraphs of other people's email addresses from OTHER people who forwarded this thing?

And you know how you get 200 spam emails a day? Guess how you got them?

You got them because someone unscrupulous got forwarded the "10 Reasons Chocolate is Better than Men" email with 97,000 emails on it, and that unscrupulous person used those addresses to send spam.

So, is it just me? Am I the crankiest crankerbritches and you all love love love to get those jokes and warnings not to go to someone's car to smell perfume samples and now those of you who forward me things will hate me forever? Or does everybody secretly agree with me?

June's stupid life · Photo essays

Snow day

It snowed in Greensboro last night, which sent everybody into a panic. All schools were closed so Marvin got a day off, and I didn't even have to go in until mid-morning.

So we played.

Snowbone

I know those of you with real weather are laughing at our panic-inducing accumulation. This is April in Michigan! Not only would it not be a snow day, people would wear shorts! It was a balmy 28!

Anyway, we also took advantage of the snow to reenact the photo that we have of our house, which was built in 1950. Soon after we bought this place last spring, there was a knock on the door and the former owner was there, bearing blueprints and lot info and a photo of the son of the first owners, who lived here from 1950 until 1993.

You know how things like this are right up my alley. Anyway, here is the picture she gave us. I had it mounted and framed for an anniversary gift to Marvin.

Then1

Since we finally had snow in our yard today, we recreated the scene. Next we will get into those Civil War reenactments. Anyway, here is Marvin. I like how he even captured the open mouth/hands hanging thing.

Now1

Yes, he's totally wearing his pajamas in the front yard. I love how you can see how the tree has grown, and that the X on the front porch rail is still there.

Do you know what I wish? I wish we didn't have all that stupid landscaping. I really don't. I am monkey grassed out. It's driving me ape. I should just eat a Rhesus and get over it.

Okay, I will stop. I don't want you climbing the walls. Swinging to another blog.

Are you really going to leave me for another blog, you cheetah? Okay, that isn't even a monkey. I officially have to stop now. Goodbye.

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

I have a dream that my house is tidy

I am just quickly writing you in the middle of house cleaning. I have the day off for Martin Luther King day. What is too bad is that Martin Luther King isn't alive to tell us what he thinks about tomorrow.

Anyway, here is the following crucial news I have for you. First of all, as your personal friend and financial adviser, I need to tell you that all this "Perhaps you could wear a shawl" advice needs to be addressed. The shawl, or pashmina, is out. O-U-T. I mean, grab your cosmo, it's 2001. The freshest cover-ups for a cocktail dress right now are 1) the tuxedo jacket, which I just cannot do because I did it in the '80s, 2) the cropped faux fur, and just TRY to find Vera Wang's cropped faux fur jacket ANYWHERE right now, including eBay, and 3) the cardigan.

Also, I am wearing the new cherry-scented deodorant I bought and I smell like a Life Saver.

Finally, I am sorry to tell you that when we woke up this morning, Marvin went into the bathroom and came back wearing the aqua Totie Fields dress. Because he thinks he is funny. And then he WOULD NOT let me take a picture of it for you. So you're just going to have to envision it.

Totie

Totie Fields was before my time, and probably yours. I do not know why I know who she is, except she was probably on Hollywood Squares.

Okay, my cherry Hall's-scented self and I are back to Cometing the sink.

Beauty products · June's stupid life · Marvin

Cherry for the pits

Shhh. Don't tell Marvin. I had to use his deodorant today. Marvin gets really skeeved out when I use his deodorant, which in the grand scheme of being married 10 and a half years is kind of weird, if you think about it.

I mean, it's just, Hey, Marvin, you know that stick of chemicals that you rub in your just-showered skin every morning? Well, today I put it on my just-showered skin. It is hardly the grossest thing, you know?

(That said, if he ever used my toothbrush I would DIE DIE DIE a million deaths, cause, ew!)

Anyway, Marvin uses straight deodorant, not antiperspirant, so long about noon, I'm all, why am I sweatin' to the oldies, over here? So I went to the grocery store and got my own actual deodorant, which I'm sure make a big difference in your life.

But let me ask you, she says, not letting this captivating subject dry up just yet. So to speak. Are you brand loyal to your antiperspirant? I'm not. I don't know if anyone remembers during Bye Bye Buy when I had to use up the antiperspirant I had that smelled exactly like a new doll, and I HATED it but because of my whole no-spending rule, I could NOT buy new stuff until it was used up. Oh, that was torture, smelling like Baby Alive for three months.

So, today I got Secret brazilian cherry. And yes, it is lowercase like that on the package. What do you think a Brazilian cherry is, exactly? A cherry that's really waxed well? Further reports pending.

In other news, I tried to order that silvery, metallic dress today, but when it came time to pay for it, I just couldn't stand it. Have I mentioned we're a tad light in our wallet loafers right now? I know that made no sense.

So you know what I did? (And by the way, I appreciate the go-to-Macy's tips, but in 1997 I wrote a $7 check to Macy's, which was all I owed them for a credit card payment, and they cashed it for $700, and tried to tell me I miswrote the check, even though I was holding a copy of the check in my hand when they told me that, and they never, ever said they were sorry even though I said to them "All I want is an apology." For that reason I have never shopped at Macy's ever since. Ever.)

I went on eBay, that's what I did. They have brand-new dresses on there, tags still on 'em. And I bought one!

Dress

I hope it fits. But it's returnable. Then also too, I went back to the mall and got sparkly little sweaters to wear over top for NINE DOLLARS, marked down from $99 and $129. Hello. I was totally being my Aunt Mary, who is forever finding Chanel suits for 99 cents.

Cardi

I know that's a terrible photo. I was talking to the dog. Let me try another.

Chokedog

Yes, this is better. Here I am choking the dog. Festive!

Here is the other sweater I bought. Again, nine dollars, so I could live large. I figure if these don't look good with the dress I can wear them to work and tell them I'm moonlighting for the Ice Capades.

Catndog

What is interesting to me is not the sweater, but why Winston in in that odd crouch in the background. Perhaps he is worried I will get him in that choke hold next. Anyway, you can close just the top of this sweater, so maybe it'll work with that dress. Or I could leave it open. You know I will dance every dance, so at that point the whole dress will come off and I will be in my undergarments. I mean, you know that, Sandy, right? And there is going to be the Chicken Dance, isn't there? And YMCA?

So, if neither of these little toppers work I can keep looking. Which means you can keep hearing about this until the end of February. And maybe I'll run out of deodorant before then too! Man, do I know how to keep the reader wanting more.

Faithful Readers · Friends · June's stupid life · Marvin

Hey, aqua dress

First of all, we have us a new comment of the week, which of course on this blog is called Special of the Week, because I have to be annoying and make everything about pie. And I know I am late in the day announcing it, but you knew I wouldn't DESSERT you.

Get it? Pie? Dessert? Really, how do you stand the hilarity.

This week's funny funnyster was M, and you can click over there on Special of the Week at right to see M's wit. And I also have a super-special announcement for you. I hope you are biting a strip of leather or a bullet or something. But have you noticed how J writes in and is funny just all the ding-dang time? I keep wanting to give J comment of the week, but I have GIVEN J comment of the week before, so you know what I decided to do? I just decided to add another paragraph to Special of the Week, and it's called The Funny Thing J Said This Week. Or something similar. Go look.

And you know, I am pretty sure J and M are sisters. I would be interested in hearing why J and M's parents only named them initials, aren't you? So maybe the two of them can have some sort of big family celebration this week, and go around saying funny things.

I would like to give honorable mention to so many of you, with your I before Es and your amnesia and your meteor shower jokes and such. Really, sometimes Special of the Week feels kind of like I exclude too many people. Am I being a girl right now?

In other news, today I went with Emily from Chatting at the Sky to shop for a dress to wear to my friend Sandy's wedding, which is coming up in February and is NOT today, as I seemed to have led you to believe with my sloppy writing on Friday.

Let's all give a round of applause to Emily, who went with me to not one but TWO malls, who sat outside seven hundred fifty thousand dressing rooms, who pawed though sparkly dress after sparkly dress, and who walked around with me when it was TEN DEGREES OUT, all to find me a dress.

And here it is.

Nice

No, seriously, wouldn't you just be so mad at me? What if I totally wore this aqua, pleated, Totie Fields' garage sale dress to Sandy's fancy wedding? Wouldn't that be the bomb? And with no shoes like this too. Yeeeee-haw!

My friend Dot went to the thrift store and mailed me this, because Dot gets a big charge out of herself. But SPEAKING of Dot, there has been a change of plans. Turns out flying to Detroit for this wedding? Would cost Marvin and me $650. SIX HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS! So I am just going to fly to the wedding, and as luck would have it, my friend Dot, who is an old college friend and a friend of Sandy's as well, has agreed to be my date.

I am totally making her wear this dress.

Anyway, I am just saying, Emily and I searched. We were Leonard Nemoy, that's how In Search Of we were. And I will let her tell the part about when we ate lunch with my Topamax self, if she chooses to tell it. Anyway, she took me home in the afternoon, and I DRAGGED MARVIN back to said mall to give me his opinion on the one dress I actually was interested in.

Why do I do these things? Why do I forget that Marvin is no fun to shop with? First of all, he didn't like the dress I was interested in, and then as we shopped further, here are the charming things he said about dresses I tried on:

"Remember when that comet flew over, and all those people committed suicide? That outfit looks like the outfit they were all wearing."

"That's a nice dress, if you're planning to audition for the next Star Wars movie."

And my personal favorite:

"Ho ho ho. Green Giant!" It was my personal favorite because the DRESS WAS BLACK!

And the dresses you guys emailed me from Coldwater Creek WEREN'TAT THE STORE! Oh, how annoying the Internet is, with its merchandise that can't be found in real life.

So anyway, I went home and looked on that blasted Internet, and I found this dress. I am totally being dcrmom right now, with my "this dress" link.

I know it is costly, but it's pretty, no? There is a sparkly cardigan I can wear over it. Or should I go for this aqua number from the thrift shop?

Ask June · June's stupid life

Inquire of June

Stache

Really, I've been bristling with excitement to get to Ask June. Let's whisk ourselves off to the first question.

Nosey…Picker? asks, "What is the single grossest thing you have ever done?"

Nosey, I have been thinking about this one since you asked, and you were one of the first people to Ask June, I just didn't get to pick you on my random pickerizer until today.

You know, I am an only child and therefore kind of prissy. And by the way, when I announced my only childness just now, all of my cousins who read this are rolling their eyes, as they know I am an only child all too well. I announced it to get out of having to do anything athletic, loud, untoward, or otherwise unappealing to me for the first 20 years of my life. "No, you guys go ahead and do the dinner dishes. I'm an only child. I really need to unwind with some alone time over here."

What I am trying to say is I don't do a lot of gross things because I am so easily grossed out. But I guess because I am such an animal lover (see above) that a lot of the pet things I tolerate would make non-pet people absolutely sick. That said, I guess the times I have accidentally French kissed and/or kissed my cats on the anus are probably the grossest things I have ever done. Trust me, if you have cats, you really can accidentally do these things.

Alicia ponders, "Why is 'c' the exception to the rule when it comes to 'i' before 'e'? Personally, I just think it's weird."

Well, Alicia, from what I can gather, it all started with derivatives of the Latin word capio such as receive, deceit, etc. However, many people argue that there are so many exceptions to this rule that it isn't a very good one. For example, we have beige, which doesn't come after c; or what about codeine, which does?

I say, look it up in a dictionary. Or go on m-w.com. And may I just add? GO ON M-W.COM., not dictionary.com, if you want a real, reliable dictionary. And Wikipedia does not count as a dictionary, nor does anything any regular schlub can contribute to, if you are looking for a CORRECT ANSWER. I really enjoyed making proofreading corrections at my old job and having some MARKETING PERSON come back and say, "Wikipedia says it's okay to spell it this way." Okay, and let me go back on Wikipedia so I can learn how to market things, let's see how you like that. And while I'm at it, why don't I drive this EXACTO knife though your HEAD.

Thank you.

J asks June, "Do you have a personal motto, such as 'When life gives you lemons, make lemonade' or 'The early bird gets the worm'?"

Marvin and I just had dinner, and during said dinner I kept asking him, "What is my motto? I have to answer this question for Ask June." How sick of me and my blog is Marvin, do you think? Anyway, he kept coming up with really stupid mottos like "Don't turn around, uh-oh. Der kommissar's in town, uh-oh" and "Everything is sad" (which is something my grandmother once said). So we were eating and talking about something or other and I said, "Things could be worse. I could be Sting."

AND THAT'S IT! That's my motto. Ozzy Osborne said it once on The Osbornes, and I thought it was brilliant, and I say it all the time. Things could be worse. I could be Sting.

Elsie asks, "Have any of your Bye Bye Buy habits stuck with you?" 

Not many. But I have stuck with a few. For example, I do bring my lunch to work a lot, because I now know it takes less than five minutes to make your lunch. Also, I have gotten weird about my lipstick ( and look, there's another "i before e" exception–"weird"). I wait until the tube is almost gone before buying another. I used a Sephora gift certificate I had just today and ordered me up a new tube of nudey pink like I like. Here is my current tube of nudey pink, rolled all the way up:

Lipstick

Gettin' low. Hope Sephora doesn't take their own sweet time.

And finally, Paula "Always in the Wrong Lane" From New York, Dammit, begs June to tell her: "GONE missing. What is this? Why have people gone missing, why do they go missing? It makes it seem, to me, that this was a choice, like they have gone shopping or gone to the movies. They ARE missing, they haven't GONE missing. I think this is a fairly new usage, but I don't like it and I would like you, June, to tell me they are wrong and I am right. Thank you."

Paula, "gone missing" is a British idiom. Canadian people use it too. As far as I could tell by looking online, it isn't actually grammatically incorrect. It just bugs you. Do you hate the British, Paula? Tell us why. What's your issue? Is it the royal family that has you all bound up?

It bugs me when people say, "I was thinking to myself…" which, you know, isn't really incorrect, but it's stupid. Who else WOULD you be thinking to? I was thinking to 70 other people. So I understand how something can stick in your craw, Paula, like your deep need to murder all the people of Canada and Britain. Could you spare Barry Gibb for me? He's been here in the U.S. for over 30 years. He is one of us now.  DON'T LET BARRY GO MISSING, PAULA!

Okay, thanks for joining me for another chilling episode of Ask June. I hope you feel packed with peanuts and really satisfied.

June's stupid life · Los Angeles · Marvin

Prelude to Ask June

Today is Friday, in case you have been in bed all week with the curtains drawn, so that means we are due for another Ask June, which I will do tonight when I get home. I just wanted to let you know so you could wake the kids and get your video cameras ready. If you wish to ask me an Ask June question, ask them here. I know Lee was getting twitterpatted about where to ask Ask June. There was a sentence.

It is 12 here. Twelve. Why did I leave LA, again? Yeah, I had to leave my rental house at 6:30 in the morning to sit in traffic for an hour to go 16 miles, but you know what? I was warm.

Did I ever tell you about the time the parrots flew over and Marvin had bronchitis? That is a good story and if I haven't told it I will during Ask June or maybe tomorrow during Comment of the Week. My, don't we have a lot to live for.

Today will be our first Friday of Tallulah staying home all day unsupervised for Project Poverty or as we like to call it, We're Poor. I am glad to hear others are too. Makes me feel better, which probably isn't nice of me.

Although in a completely incongruous turn of events, I am going shopping for a dress to wear to my friend Sandy's wedding tomorrow with Emily from that Native American blog, Chatting at the Sky. I am breaking into my New York trip money to do so. But having only gone to LA weddings for the last 10 and a half years, or Michigan weddings in summer, I have nothing to wear to this thing. If I can't find a dress, I will be sporting an old sundress or some nice black work pants and a snappy work sweater. (Annnnnd cue my mother writing in, "There's nothing wrong with wearing your faded work pants and your snagged work sweater to Sandy's wedding, honey, if that's all you have.")

Sandy says this is the kind of wedding where you wear something sparkly, which is exciting for me, as I am secretly a Sparkly Rose Blossom, as we all know too well.

Okay, time to put on my parka to leave to work. Twelve degrees. Can you call in cold to work?