Yes, it's true. Ask June even works on Easter, bringing you all that funnyness eggs-actly when you need it most, at the end of your long holiday. That is, if you celebrate Easter. June does not wish to exclude.
Marvin and I celebrated the day by coloring eggs and by me looking incredibly old.
No, seriously. Father Time called. Wants his look back. I look 192 in this picture. Am I one of the Gray Gardens sisters? Maybe I should have put on some of that there makeup before I got my photo taken. My defense is that I spent all day cutting monkey grass and THEN posed for this shot, but still. The eggs weren't in a cage, but maybe I should be. Where's my kennel? Yeesch!
I guess I do not like this photo of myself.
Anyway, I boiled the eggs last night, and had to actually Google "How to boil eggs," which is a step up from what I usually do, which is call one of my parents. I do not cook a lot. Finding anti-aging creams takes up all my time, as you can see.
After the whole boiling activity, we did the dyeing deed this morning.
Marvin did not grow up coloring eggs, and he and I have not colored eggs that much, seeing as we're, you know, adults, so his first move was to plop the first egg in really hard and crack it. Oops.
Nevertheless, he did a fine job and made me a nice pink egg. And if we get into the "what are those polka-dot balls in the background" discussion again I will rip off my skin and run with my skeleton down Park Avenue.
The rest of the day we spent (sit down) cutting monkey grass, ripping out ivy, stomping a rotted stump in the front yard, and scraping paint off our rusted chair. Wooo!
I love this chair, and it used to be all turquoise before I moved somewhere where it actually rained. It got rusty in one year here in North Carolina, and was pristine in California for 10 years. Anyway, we scraped and scratched and clawed our way to the top, and then Marvin put primer on the chair and we will paint it next.
Everyone's a comedian. And no, we aren't painting it black. Who are we, the Addams Family? That's just the rust-y primer-y thing. I am painting it pale pink, actually. Because I would paint the world pale pink if I could.
Those are all the things I needed to tell you, but let's say it and not spray it over at Ask June, shall we?
Paula from New York Dammit asks, "Are/were your parents as funny as you?"
I wonder why Paula put this in the past tense, since I talk about both parents all the time, and I know she reads this blog daily, so she knows they are still, you know, around. Do you think she is insinuating that there is a possibility one or both of my parents used to be a laugh riot and now they're dull as mud? I guess it can happen–can't it?–that someone used to be funny and they get unfunny.
Remember in Say Anything when John Cusack says to his sister in the movie (who was played by Joan Cusack, his sister in real life), "What happened to you? You used to be hilarious?" and she said, "I was hilarious, wasn't I?"
Anyway, Paula, who probably wishes she hadn't asked now, yes. Both of my parents are funny. When I was planning my trip to New York, my father said, "Have you saved a lot of money? Because you know how you're at the airport and you buy a sandwich, and it's $17? Everything you buy in New York is like everything you buy at the airport. It just seems like it can't possibly be that expensive, but it is."
Maybe that wasn't his best line, but he is funny.
And all of my mother's friends always say, "Oh, you get your sense of humor from your mother," which, I guess if anyone remembers her nice cleaning tip that earned her comment of the week a while back, perhaps might be true. I get my refined sense of humor from mom.
Kerrin says, "My Ask June question is about the ankle tattoo you displayed while wearing the snazzy aqua dress. Could you tell the story of what it is and when/where you got it? I love tattoo stories of a grown person's spunky youth…"
Okay, I have told this story before, but people come and go from this blog, so I might as well tell it again. The year was 1994 and I was living in Seattle with an artist with long hair. He kind of had an Anthony Kiedis look about him and he was really funny. He wasn't, however, ready to get married and I was allllllll ready to be married and apparently I didn't care who I got married TO because looking back on it if I'd have married him we'd have been divorced in a year.
Anyway, he kept saying he wasn't ready to be married, so I moved out. I was very proud of myself for taking this firm stance. I moved in with Faithful Readers Sabrina Duncan and Master Instructor Susan Harris and I think they can back me up on the fact that at first, I was just fine! Which might tell you something about how good it was I didn't marry him.
Two months later, I ran into him. He was with a woman. Of course he was with a woman, he looked like Anthony Kiedis. I said hello to him and tried to be dignified and somehow mentioned his girlfriend, and he said, "She's not my girlfriend, she's my wife. We eloped at the Church of Elvis in Las Vegas last week."
The only good thing I can say about a blow like that is that it is a MARVELOUS diet plan. I got down to 118 pounds. I looked FABULOUS except for the part where I cried all the time. Anyway, because he had something that would last forever (and it did. He is still married. Two kids), I wanted something that would last forever. And so I got a tattoo.
And you know I felt kind of better? And then a few years later I went back and got an Eiffel Tower on the other ankle, because I just like the Eiffel Tower. Wouldn't it be awful if someone ELSE I dated got married 10 seconds after we broke up and I had to get another tattoo because of that?
When I don't shave my legs, my tattoo looks like a rainy night in Paris. I probably used that line last time I talked about my tattoos.
Okay, my wrists really, really hurt from shocking the monkey (grass) all weekend, so Ask June will bid you adieu, even if you are happy with the hair you have.