The always elegant June

It is late Saturday night, but I figured I'd better post tonight because I'll never get the chance tomorrow. As you know, it is the Super Bowl day for all women and gay men.

I plan to be answering my phone 11 million times tomorrow, as various people call me to exclaim over particularly bad outfits.

Do you know that when I lived in Los Angeles, even though I was inevitably invited to an Oscar party, or I knew someone who was working at the Oscars, I would for some reason forget and drive past there at some point in the day, and I'd always end up going,"Gee, why is it so crowded on Hollywood Boulevard? Seems really busy for a Sunday."

I never said I was a mental giant.

And no, I never saw anyone walking into the Oscars. They rope that part of the street off, girl, and you have to have some kind of tag on your car to even go down that part of the road. But you can imagine how the already-charming traffic is even more so on Oscar day.

All this talking about multiple phone calls reminded me of a particular humiliation I have hitherto forgotten to tell you about, however, and why not pick a glamorous day like Oscar day to share it?

One time I had, let's just say, an upset tum. Things were not going well in my innards. Naturally, I felt the need to call my mother and regale for her EVERY DETAIL of my misery. She wasn't home, so I left it on her answering machine. And yes, she still has an answering machine, not voice mail, which belts out my message as I'm leaving it.

"Well, there is something wrong with me," I said. "I don't know if I ate something, or I caught a bug, but everything that has ever been in me has come flyin' out of the back of me today, in droves.

"I saw the Barbie shoe I ate in preschool. I saw that turquoise crayon. I saw part of a lung. I think wild monkeys are gonna fly outta there next."

 And just in case I hadn't driven the point home, I finished up with "Oh, I'm sick. Seriously, who stepped on that tuba?"

And again. Grace Kelly called. Wants me to play her in the story of her life. Because, refined?

My mother called a few hours later. "Did you get my message?" I asked, wanting sympathy.

"Yes," my mother said. "And the contractors in my kitchen were thrilled to hear all about your bowels, honey."

You can imagine my mother's delight as she turned on her answering machine when they were all there, heard the start of my lovely message, and one of them said, "Oh, we already heard about all that."

Now, why she had to tell them it was her daughter calling was beyond me. Couldn't she have said I was the insane neighbor? Oh, how I hope none of them recognized my senior picture or anything. "Hey! That's June from high school!"

Anyway, on that charming note, I hope you all enjoy the Oscars, if you watch them. It is at times like these that I miss living on West Coast time, as I could actually watch the entire thing. As it is, I will have to stop at about 10:30, because that is as late as I can stay up. Otherwise, I will not feel well the next day, and then I will have to call my mother to tell her about it.

19 thoughts on “The always elegant June

  1. Training Buddy & I watched the Oscars from the comfort of a hotel room on the Cape after the discomfort of running 13.1 miles earlier in the day on the Cape. We did drink a bottle of Sophia champagne ( from Francis Ford Coppala vineyards named after – you guessed it – his daughter Sophia). We managed to watch the whole show & I agree about Angelina and am not a Brad fan either – he seesm so one dimensional… Jennifer is better off.

    Like

  2. Looking forward to your commentary, June. I actually stayed up and am going to pay for it dearly today, I know. I loved the format! Loved Hugh Jackman, he did a wonderful job. Overall, was pleased with the winners. Although delighted for Sean Penn, I was kind of hoping we’d get to see Mickey Rourke be all weird, lol!

    Like

  3. You are much more interesting than the Oscars, dear June. Can I call you June-bug? I called you June-bug on my blog. Now I am wondering if that was the wrong thing to do…please don’t make me change it. We are in the South, after all.

    Like

  4. My 12-year-old told my husband and I he knew one thing I absolutely couldn’t give up for Lent. . .Bye, Bye, Pie! *sigh* He knows me so well. Thanks, June and your crazy village of commentors

    Like

  5. Just don’t spill your guts on the answering machine the next time, just leave and message, “Mom, I need to talk, call me as soon as you can.” LOL!

    Like

  6. Barbie shoe poo. I can always count on you June. We should have planned an Oscar watching party. That ends at 10:05. As it is, I’ll be watching alone while The Man reads a respectable book nearby.

    Like

  7. Yes, I can’t wait to see those toned thighs and perky breasts on the red carpet……………but enough about George Clooney, who do you want to win?

    Like

  8. Oh June, how you make me laugh. You make hearing about “Poo” delightful in your own special way. I miss hearing your Hollywood gossip that you were privy to back in your LA days. I still have an answering machine like your mom. I use it as a form of artistic expression since i haven’t been on a stage in years.
    June, I just talked to the E! channel, Seacrest and that other interview girl ate some bad Scampi and they want you to fill in interviewing the stars on the red carpet. They figured you actually might have something interesting to ask them for a change.

    Like

  9. There is nothing like getting a phone call from your 70 something year old mother who leaves a voice mail on you work phone telling you she has a raging yeast infection. THen giving you details on what a sex fiend your dad is and how you can’t take him to a hotel blah blah blah. Yeah I miss my Mom so much! 🙂

    Like

  10. Thanks for the reminder. I thought the Academy Awards ceremony was in April? Some of those celebrities look as though they were dressed by a monkey who just flew out of someone’s butt. I’ll wager poor Mickey Rourke will just look like a monkey’s butt. Still would like to see him score a win.

    Like

  11. monkeys? Barbie shoes?
    I’m dying over here!
    I called my mom one time and told her I had The Big D.
    “Diphtheria?” she said
    “No mom, diarrhea”
    “Gross, I’d rather hear about Diphtheria”
    Feel the love….

    Like

  12. Ohh the lights .. the cameras .. the dresses .. the botox .. and I am going to miss them all .. all of them I tell you .. ohhh the pain .. the pain. All because I have to go to bloody work .. you would think they would close for such a momentous event .. but no .. you would think I would have some device that would tape it all for me .. but no.
    *sigh*

    Like

  13. Flying Monkeys! I loved it! Why is it that when we feel bad we have the need to share all the details with those that we love? My in-laws still have an answering machine. The bad part? The outgoing message is still recorded in my husband’s voice. Have I mentioned that we’ve been married for 14 years? You would think that the tape would have broken by now. Or they might have recorded a new message sometime in last decade.

    Like

Comments are closed.