Mona Lisa in yoga class. It’s just a funny visual.

I stayed up till 11:00 last night to watch Mad Men, so you know I have no personality today. I will be brief and to the point. It'll be like a man wrote this.

1) How is everyone doing on The Fountainhead? I am almost done. I have enjoyed it. That's all I'm saying until our official discussion on it. Because I'm mysterious. I'm Mona Lisa. I have a severe middle part all of a sudden.

2) I really hate it when people say "all the sudden."

3) And "taken back." It's taken aback.

4) This is why people don't like to leave me comments, isn't it?

5) You guys are always good at this, so please help, and go ahead and make grammatical errors. I really do not get that bent out of shape. (Am picturing self twisted about, like I'm in some Lilas Yoga and You class, with my cloak and severe Mona Lisa middle part.)

It irks Marvin to the nth degree that I have 68 songs on my iPod. Marvin has every kind of iPod and has 3,200 songs. On our computer, he has over 10,000 songs.  You can see why my 68 bug him.

And let's just be polite and say we do not share taste in music. He says that every song he ever plays I claim is frenetic or depressing. I do hear myself say that a lot. "What's that frenetic SONG you're playing?"

Anyway. Can you please suggest songs for my iPod, preferably from this decade, although old songs will be fine, too. I will listen to whatever you tell me to listen to.

I was going to tell you no country songs, but then remember how I ended  up liking that one girl, the hot American Idol girl, the one who grabs the microphone over and over when she sings? Oh WHAT IS HER NAME? All I can think of is Kelly Clarkson and that's not it. The HOT one.

Crap.

I like how 5) has become not remotely brief. Or to the point.

6) Faithful Reader Karen sent me photos from yet another Halloween party at that same house. I was the night sky. I look 12.

Halloweenjune2

That's also a picture of my body back there in the yellow thong.

Halloweenjune  

Robert Smith is jamming out to my mock turtleneck.

Remember decorating with milk crates? I wonder when we stopped? When was the fateful day we tossed them because we had an Ikea shelf or some similar "I'm on my way to growing up" decorating moment?

7) Okay, going now. Mad Men is so worth my tired eyes. Which I'm sure I'll still say seven hours into my day of proofreading about electrophoresis.

8) Kellie PICKLER! Oh, thank heavens.

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Twit

Faithful Reader Karen sent me these lovely photos of me at Halloween in 1992. Her brother had this annual Halloween party that was to die for. In case you can't figure it out, I was Madonna. And also Dignified.

Madoga

That is my pal Sleeping Beauty's boyfriend at the time, helping himself to one of my cones. He was dressed as a TV dinner.

Madonnasucks

I'm certain everyone at the party was happy to have me LOUNGE across their coats like that.

You know what depresses me about these photos? Other than the part where I have no pride? MY TAUT SKIN. Look at it! No sags! No Panama Canal wrinkle in my forehead. Just tight tight tight skin. I was 27. I was a month away from moving away from Michigan, to Seattle.

Oh, well. Time marches on.

And speaking of time marching on, I have gotten on Twitter. I didn't even mean to. I was reading Dooce today, and she did this fabulous thing where her brand new, 8 million dollar washer broke, and even though she had a warranty they gave her a hard time about fixing it, and she has a NEWBORN which apparently requires a lot of laundry (which, why? Do they have a lot of wardrobe changes during the day? Are they all mini divas?) and anyway, she got on Twitter, where she has over a million followers, and once she complained, voila! Maytag finally fixed her machine.

Seriously? The longest sentence I ever wrote.

So all I wanted to do was go on and see her twits or tweets or twittererings or whatever and I thought I was just signing in and the next time I came to my computer I had 8,930 messages saying "So-and-so is following you on Twitter!" to which I say, why are so many of you named so-and-so?

So (and s0), I guess I have to start twatting or whatev on a regular basis, except between the hours of 7:30 to 5:30, because you KNOW my work won't let me on that Twitter. They won't let me on RESTAURANT sites, because I guess God forbid I might want to order lunch ahead so I can get back to the office quicker. So, yeah. I will be twitfree at work.

Maybe I should learn the Twitty verbiage as well, you think?

I got 99 problems but a tooth ain’t one

SentinelsTallulah: Lula look out window to earn keep and Henry do it too. Otherwise, Big Hair throw us out. Francis told Lula!

Believe it or not, I am not going to complain about any physical discomfort today. Instead, I have 7845648784568173495844**475%46f5854redrum!redrum!896-038 topics to cover, and I'm certain this won't be an annoying or disjointed post at all.

First and foremost and semi-formally, we wish to award the coveted comment of the week to Juice. You are not seedy. Your comment had tang and zip. You say tomato, I make you the Special of the Week. Okay, I will stop with stupid juice jokes. I've squeezed the life out of this.

Second, I came upon an Etsy site yesterday and I practically screamed and held my head like those teenagers at the Ed Sullivan theater in 1964. GO LOOK AT THE JEWELRY ON THIS SITE! Oh! It screams June. Which would be unfortunate if you wore it to the theater. I love the necklaces with the birds on them. It's too bad my name isn't "Rak-kow! Ra-kow!" because then it would make more sense when that particular jewelry item screamed my name.

Really, what bird goes, "Ra-kow!"? Maybe it's more like, "Squaw!" No, that's too Native American.

Oh, that reminds me. Did I not mention this post will not be tidy? Last night I was having a tres productive evening on Facebook, and Marvin asked, "What are you doing in there?" And I said, "Taking a Facebook quiz to see what my Native American name is."

And he said, "It's Sacadiarrhea."

Who loves himself? Is it Marvin? Is he Mr. Roper, looking at the camera and grinning at his own self? Sacadiarrhea. Okay, so those antibiotics are making me a tad ill. Can't he be NICE, ever?

I had a therapist in LA (because everyone does. You have to show the check stubs from your last three therapy sessions before they renew your license) and her name was Sangita, yet my mother always called her Sacagawea. I'd be complaining about some woe and mom would say, "What does Sacagawea say about it?" OKAY HER NAME IS NOT SACAGAWEA! STOP already.

And because we need to stampede to yet another topic, I have things to show you. Things that involved my day today. Because I am certain you care. Deeply.

Fluers

NurseryI went to the nursery with my friend The Other June today. Did you ever notice whenever I do something with The Other June, I end up showing a picture of me? Could it be because TOJ does not wish to be photographed? Or is it that I really have no friends and TOJ is my Snufalupagus?

At any rate, I did buy these gold pine cone Christmas tree ornaments. Because they were necessary.

I bought a plant, too. Do you remember back in May when I bought some plants and took a picture and no one really knew for sure what it was? I am sure nothing else has burned in your brain since.

Here is the picture I took in May:

Sal

I bought two of these, and they're doing great. Anyway, I bought another one today, and remember how a few people said this was a salvia and I said no, no, no, to both rehab and the salvia idea? Yeah. It's salvia. But it's also called sage. Which is where I got confused.

So, am I supposed to cut it back for fall, or what? Because it's 8,000 times bigger now.

I also had my hair did today. Since you are seeing my friendless self above, you get to see the before hair.

Hair

Here is the after hair, taken with the webcam, and let's talk about the whole "God approves" stream of light coming in. It's like this photo is singing, "AAAAHHHHHH!" Anyway, I went more brown. For autumn. Because it's 106 out. Autumn is just around the corner!

And finally, because I am certain you are not TOTALLY OVER ME at this point, I did want to remind you about book club. Yes, I'm WORKING ON A BUTTON. Geez. Anyway, we are reading The Fountainhead and we will meet here at this blog on September 30 at–did I say 9 p.m. Eastern? I think I did. I will publish my deep thoughts on the book at that time, then you can come comment right then, if you can–or later, if you wish.

We are all bringing snacks and drinks and sacks of diarrhea.

It’s a small intestine after all

Have you wondered where I've been all day? Or have you been going about your life, indifferent to my stupid blog?

I'll tell you where I've been all day, oh Indifferent One. I've been TRYING NOT TO BARF, that's where I've been!

Because it's not bad enough that I had a tooth extracted. It's not bad enough that I have to have a $2823456789009876534567890  implant. It wasn't dreadful enough to have a dry socket. No. I had to also HAVE A REACTION TO MY MEDICATION.

Seriously, did I kick a baby or something? Why all the bad karma?

So I have been alternating between lying very, very still on the couch or DASHING to the bathroom, pray pray praying I don't barf. Because have I mentioned I have not barfed since October of 1982? Have I mentioned I am afraid of barfing? Have I brought that up at all? Because not bringing it up is a big goal with me.

Once I drank with one of Timothy Leary's relatives. I am not making this up. We were at a big, fancy Christmas party and we commenced to drinking and there was a merry-go-round at the party and all of a sudden there were three merry-go-rounds. Three.

Thank heavens I got home thanks to some decent person at the party, because I totally lost all the people I had come with, and I totally lost Timothy Leary's relative, and anyway the POINT of my story is that was in 1992 and I really, really would have felt better the next day had I barfed. I know I would have. But I just couldn't.

And as an aside, Timothy Leary's relative showed up at my house the next day and she felt as fine as frog's fur. "Hey! Let's go to a movie!" She was all chipper.

I am not good at tuning in and turning on or whatever. Despite my hippie childhood.

So while I was lying there today, in my misery, the ice cream truck kept driving up and down my street. Okay, first of all, it's raining. Who's in the mood for ice cream on a rainy day? And forty-fifth? Kids are back in school here. So who is he TEMPTING with his truck and his little tinny "It's a Small World After All"?

You have no idea how many times I heard that song today as I clutched myself and prayed not to barf. It's a small world after all! It's a small world after all! It's a SMALL world after all! It's a small small small small world.

Cause THERE'S a song that doesn't stay in your head. It's pleasant when you're ill. Is what it is.

The only up side to this story–and thank heavens there is not an upchuck side to this story–is that Faithful Reader Shana showed me how to do this:

PhotoFunia-3d0d24

Want to do it? So to speak? Click here.

Heart Shana. Heart self. Heart our small world, after all.

This whole dental thing just gets more charming

Guess who has a dry socket!? No wonder it hurt like the dickens.

The dentist said I was very tough. He said my mouth looked really painful, and then the part where he TREATED the dry socket? He said most people bust out of the chair, and I only winced.

I am tough.

Anyway, the good news is I get to take tomorrow off work because I will be hopped up on meds. The bad news is everything tastes like clove right now. Maybe those meds already kicked in.

Hump day

Tallulah has started humping the cat again. I'd say it's been a good six months since she's violated poor Winston in this fashion, but ever since she got back from boarding at day care last weekend she is back at it.

As soon as she starts, Winston wriggles away, and then Tallulah humps the air for a good 15 seconds, like she's Elvis or anyone trying to mate with Keira Knightly.

Cause Keira Knightly is really really skinny, see. So it'd be like humping the thin air. Oh, forget it.

I figure some Doberman mounted her (Tallulah, not Keira Knightly) or something and she remembered, "Oh, yeah! Lula forgot this an excellent way to humiliate Gray Stripe!"

Do you think she knows the cats' names or just calls them her own names?

At any rate, she is polite enough to leave tiny Henry alone thus far and she is smart enough to know that should she attempt to hump Francis, she's be filleted so fast she'd be humping her own liver before she knew what was what.

MyluThe perpetrator

VictimThe victim

So, poor Winston. Poor Gray Stripe. It's like he's Jody Foster in that depressing movie where everyone rapes her on the pinball machine. I feel like I should get him a chastity belt or something. Except he's a boy, so I'd get him a Chas belt.

I slay me.

Other than that, I got nothing to tell you. Except my mouth frigging hurts.

Sans tooth

Last time we spoke, I had more teeth than I do now. Because yesterday was a dumb day.

My gums were hurting in the back since Sunday, but the general vicinity of the pain was the same place I had gum surgery in 1998. And by the way? You lookin' for a good time? Go out and get you some gum surgery. Because it's as delightful as it sounds.

My beloved LA dentist told me that area would always be sensitive when it felt like it, kind of like Don Draper in Mad Men. Okay, he's never really sensitive, but he's understanding sometimes. My gum area has never pretended to understand me. Have I mentioned I have the worst teeth in the world, despite flossing 78 times a day and having a $2893717 toothbrush?

I tried to ignore the pain as though it were my usual gum Don Draperness, but by Monday night the pain was so bad it woke me up. To which I said, Crap.

So I went in on an emergency basis and it turns out that even if you've had a root canal? And gum surgery? Things can still go wrong. Turns out one of the roots was infected, which, I thought I HAD no roots there. Hence the canal.

My dentist said he really hated to extract a tooth, but this one needed to come out. Which, again, I thought if you had a ROOT CANAL there was no tooth left. I don't understand dentistry.

And I am just saying to you. Have you ever had a tooth removed when you were awake? Because hoky mother of pearl. I just wrote "hoky" mother of pearl by accident and I crack myself up. Anyway, it's intense, is what it is.

Plus, I didn't even get any good drugs. I'm on Advil and Tylenol–yes, both–and that's it. And I haven't taken any since 7 o'clock yesterday and man Polly, quit crying, my mouth hurts.

So that was my fun 24 hours. Eventually I have to go back and have an implant, which is too bad because I thought my chest size was pretty adequate. Seems unnecessary. In the meantime, you can't see that I have no tooth, which is good because the horse look is not one I carry off with any finesse.

Okay, I must go take Tylenol and Advil now.

June’s favorite things

Webetired

You know how Oprah has that show where she shows you all the things she likes cause she's a billionaire and can afford everything? This is just like that, except for the part where I am poor. I know we all know some of my favorite things already (see above), but here are some other things I like, which unfortunately I am not getting paid to say I like.

Do you know who I wish would want me to use their product? That Latisse company that gives you long eyelashes like Brooke Shields' eyelashes. Have you seen that commercial? It's a prescription liquid you put on your eyelids and you grow huge eyelashes and apparently you also dance in a really awkward way with someone in slow motion.

What is Brooke Shields DOING when she's dancing in that commercial? She does this little jerking motion that makes no sense, unless she's trying to get a bug off her shoulder or something.

But I do like that Brooke Shields. We're the same age and I always identified with her, especially the parts where she hung out at Studio 54 when she was 13 and also went to Princeton. We are practically twins. Because Fashion Square Roller Rink in Saginaw is similar to Studio 54, right? They played Boogie Oogie Oogie.

Anyway. Here are some things I like.

Lorac

Since the Latisse people are not clamoring to give me free product, I went to Ulta and bought this Lorac mascara. I think it was $22. On one side is a primer, because you are going to spraypaint your lashes next. No, no, no. The primer supposedly does something to make your lashes longer, then the next step gives you long and lengthy lashes. The only annoying part is it's hard to hold cause you have to open one side and then the other. But I do like the results. It's ALMOST as good as the Maybelline Illegal Lengths I was so obsessed with that naturally they had to discontinue because I am being punished constantly.

Lipliscious

Has anyone noticed I am a dreadful photographer? I blame the camera. I blame Sue. This time I really do blame Sue, because it was my Aunt Sue who got me this lip color for my birthday. Okay, the gift was from Uncle Jim and Aunt Sue, but give me a break. My uncle is forever asking, "Oh, what'd we get you?" at any present-giving occasion. I could tell him he got me a pot-bellied pig that sang My Darling Clementine and he'd have to believe me, so involved is he in the present selection.

Anyway, this product is from Bath & Body Works and on one side is a brown sugar scrub for your lips and on the other side is a tasty color called Pomegranate and it is perfect for me. It tastes good and it's the best color. I have no idea what it cost. Go ask Uncle Jim.

Wisp

Okay, this stuff is amazing. It's a little teeny toothbrush, and how much do you like me for saying "little teeny"? The thing is, you don't use water and you don't rinse. I know! It has little rubbery bristles and a gel in the center, and somehow the gel makes you all fresh. Great for when you down 12 beers at lunch. Also, there's a teeny pick for pickin' and grinnin' on your teeth. Hey, I'm in the South.

Dishes

My final favorite thing is my new dishes. Are my new dishes. My new dishes be grand. Marvin and I needed new everyday dishes and my mother and I combed the earth for these. I described what I wanted (I want what I always want. Old lady grandma things), and lo and behold my mother found these.

Now, I know they're girly. I was just gonna get all white dishes, and when I showed Marvin the pattern, he said, "Okay, but we have to get one each of white and pink." See, I think he thought I wanted ALL pink, so I totally scored there. Plus besides, I think I can kind of mix these up with my great-grandmother's fancy china, which is pink and white.

Crankcat
Yes, Henry sitting on your clean laundry and also half a centimeter from your new dishes. Maybe if you put things away, Hair, Henry not seem so offensive.

That wraps up my fabulous June's Favorite Things post, and GUESS WHAT? EVERYBODY GETS A CAR! EVERY.BODY.GETS.A.CAR. When you go buy one.

Oh! And we have a Very Special Comment of the Week this week. The award goes to Steve and also to his wife, Beth. Because they had a funny exchange right here on my blog. It's our first award to a couple. Let's all dance a jerky little celebration dance, shall we?

Marvin, Don’t Lose that Number

Say, before I forget, if you somehow know my real name (because no, it isn't really June Gardens. How many people not age 187 do you know named June?) and have requested me as a Facebook friend? Please leave me a little comment on the request, like, "Hey, June, I read your stupid blog" so I know you're not just some groper who wants to friend me to steal my pork chops.

I have no idea why my pork chops mean so much to me. Oh, and that reminds me. Waitpeople of the South? YOU DON'T NEED TO CHECK ON US MORE THAN ONCE. Really. Come take the order, plunk it down, check on us one time and then bring the bill. That's all we want.

It is a PHENOMENON here, folks. The waitress will interrupt your scintillating conversation at least four times. "Everything still going okay?" "Y'all want some more sweet tea?" "Have I shown you pictures of my kids?" "Do y'all ever get bunions?" Every five minutes, like a gnat.

Seriously, today's waitress SAT IN THE BOOTH WITH US, and told us about her divorce. I understand you all pride yourselves on being friendly? But heavens to BETSY, just let us have dinner alone.

Perhaps my Yankee is showing.

Anyway, we had a good time on our trip. We went to a cabin in the mountains…
Cabin …after a horrifying mountain drive in which the road was a width of a bobby pin and had the straightness of Carson Kressley.

It was one of those mountain roads where one side drops off into oblivion, as opposed to one of those mountain roads that are right flush with ground level.

When I get nervous in the car, I get quiet, and Marvin tries to assuage my fears by acting super, super casual. So we're whipping around these Road Runner cliffs, and cars are careening toward us unexpectedly because it's so CURVY you have no idea what's next, and my fear is we'll round another nauseating bend and there will be a deer or a moose or Moose and Squirrel or whatever and we'll swerve and that'll be it.

So what Marvin does is he turns up the radio, and starts drumming to the music, and whistling, and playing air guitar, because there's nothing to fear, see, so why not PLAY AIR TRIANGLE while we make these HAIRPIN TURNS NINE THOUSAND FEET ABOVE SEA LEVEL.

Finally, I pointed out to Marvin that his casualness is not making me feel calmer. What WOULD make me feel calmer is knowing he was CLEARLY AWARE of the scariness of the drive and that he was giving it his FULL ATTENTION.

Oh, because did I also mention how he was obsessed with watching my GPS, and how the little map on the screen would twist and turn just like the road was twisting? It reminded me of the road signs in Pee Wee's Big Adventure where they show a normal curvy road sign, then a curvier sign, then a ridiculously convoluted twisty-ass sign. Anyway, Marvin was enjoying watching the VIRTUAL road more than the ACTUAL, HORRIFYING road, and anyway, it was a lovely way to start the romantic weekend, is what I'm saying to you.

View

Here was our view when we finally got there alive and still married.

Wildfleurs

Here was all the prettiness that ensued when we went on a hike. I tried not to think of snakes and Jason with the hockey mask and Blair Witch Project while we were traipsing in the woods.

Summerfield

Marvingardens

Do you think Marvin is wondering where he can get a quickie divorce out there in the mountains?

Blogshoes

Behold the sensible shoes I wore to go hiking. But they do match my blog.

Anyway, I lived through coming around the mountain AGAIN on the way back down. Marvin drummed to reggae music, which sounds exactly like oompah music to me, and he also jammed out to Chuck E's in Love and also not to mention Ricky Don't Lose that Number, like it's good.

Now we're back and we don't have Tallulah, because did I mention they don't allow DOGS in a CABIN, which, hello. Why NOT? Granted, it was a really tidy and nicely done cabin and maybe some dogs would chew it up, but MINE wouldn't. Much. Made me think of that Twilight Zone where the guy won't go to heaven if he can't take his dog.

Anyway, so Lula is still boarding at dog day care and so we are all cats, all the time people tonight and Francis is SO HAPPY. He's here in the computer room with me, so now we know his desire to stay on his chair all day is because of the dog and not because he has cat arthritis. Poor Fran. He probably thinks we dumped the dog in the mountains and now he's free! Free to be Fran and me!

How sad he'll be tomorrow when Lula comes flapping home.

…So what did everyone else do all weekend?

Imagine I’m annoying. It’s easy if you try.

I am off on my "romantic" weekend. Here is a rerun from back when I was actually funny.

The maintenance guy at work hit on me today, and it is because I go to the vending machine entirely too much. Jimmy — that's the maintenance guy, it says so on his shirt — hangs in the room where the vending machine is in between jobs. We have gotten to know each other well.

"So. Ya got a boyfriend? What?" he asked me today. "I'm married," I told him, cradling my Dr Pepper insecurely.

"Well, I didn't see a ring, so…"

Did you ever put your ring in that cleaning solution and leave it there for like six weeks? I do that all the time. Hang on. Let me get it now.

There. It's back on. When you have the charms of June, you can't be too careful.

Ring

But, you see, had I not been traipsing over there every second and a half for my Dr Peppers, I'd have never ENTICED the maintenance man as I did. (Did you know Dr Pepper has no period after the "Dr"? Isn't it irritating to know me and all my proofreader facts?)

I'm supposed to be HEALTHY this year, remember? And okay, yes, clearly Dr Pepper is created by a doctor and therefore must be sanctioned by the medical community, but still.

Also. The Dr Pepper at work? Is so cold. That vending machine churns out the cold. Maybe it's the maintenance man's doing. I don't know. But oh, it is painful cold. So delish.

Beyond the subject of my white-hot beauty and appeal, I did also want to give you a tip today. An inspirational tip. I am nothing if not inspirational, what with my health and vegetarianism and general self-discipline.

Yesterday after my treadmill post, someone wrote "Run, Yoko, run!" which just about killed me, and it reminded me that I have never told you about something I do to annoy Marvin. I am hoping that you can use it to annoy your person.

Marvin, as you know, watches 75,004 documentaries a week, and 687,000 of them are about bands. So you can imagine how many documentaries I have seen about John Lennon and Yoko Ono.

Have you ever watched Yoko Ono when John Lennon is talking? She SITS there, SEVEN INCHES from him, and stares unblinkingly the whole time. Have you ever seen the Imagine video? He is playing the piano and singing, and what do you think old hoot owl is doing? Could she be at the piano, seven inches away?

Yoko

Seriously, they were married a lot of years. He couldn't have remained THAT interesting. There had to be one time or another where she'd heard a story before. But does she get up and make her some tea, or call a friend? No.

So, here's what I like to do. I Yoko at Marvin. I Yoko at him until he notices, which sometimes takes 15 minutes. Sometimes he doesn't even look at me. He'll just sense it, and say, "Are ya being Yoko, then?" Oh, it bugs. Go do it to your spouse.

Meyoko

And you gotta hang your hair in your face, too. Maybe it only works if your person knows what the hell you're doing.

Finally. In conclusion. In closing, I'd like to tell you one more work story. It is busy now, so we have this temporary proofreader. Like most proofreaders, she seems really smart, is reserved, and maybe a little shy. I am so not a typical proofreader, I know. Anyway, I got introduced to her the first day and then we didn't talk again till yesterday. I felt bad.

"I never see you!" I said to her. "I know!" she said. "We're all so busy. I just work, get up to go to the bathroom, and sit right back down."

"Me too," I said. "In fact, I wish I just had a catheter so I didn't have to get up for the bathroom!"

Again. Why I always gotta be the weird coworker? Why can't I just not say stuff? She didn't talk to me today. You think I should Yoko her tomorrow?

And if you feel like I do baby, come on. Woooo!

Marvin and I will be gone on a "romantic" weekend, so tomorrow I am going to rerun my Yoko post from last year. If you've read me forever, just go find something else to do this weekend. You're Yoko'd out. And by the way, I have no idea how to not get the original comments to show from said post. So maybe you can come back and see what your comment was. That'll be exciting. Like a little archaeological dig.

Marvin keeps getting annoyed that I refer to it as our "romantic" weekend, with the air quotes, but come on. We've been married 9,000 years. How romantic can it be?

Apparently there is a hot tub involved in said getaway of "romance." Maybe we'll end up in a video that hits YouTube, like that poor McSteamy and Rebecca Gayheart.

I did want to remind you to read The Fountainhead, which we will all discuss September 30 in my brand new, super-exciting, chosen just for youuuuu*…book club. A faithful reader made me a book club button, which I will put up whenever I get Marvin to put it up.

*(That was from The Newlywed Game. Remember when they said that just before the couple won the terrible dining room set or whatever?)

Oh, and also? Faithful Reader Grace sent me cookies last night. Which, I'm just sayin'. So far she is my favorite faithful reader, that's all. If anyone else wanted to send baked goods my way, kind of get a little competition going, I'm amenable to that.

I will award the coveted comment of the week when I return, seeing as the week isn't over yet and maybe somebody will have something SIDE-SPLITTING to say either today or tomorrow. Or maybe someone will say, "I'd like to send you some delicious desserts, June." Maybe that would win comment of the week. You just never know.

Much hairdo about nothing

I write you tonight under extremely unusual circumstances: Marvin is in the other room watching a Clash documentary.

I just asked him, "What could you possibly learn about the Clash that you don't already know?" and he said, "I'll find out!"

Wouldn't it be nice to be made happy that easily?

In the meantime, I was supposed to get my roots done today, a task that has become beyond necessary. Because nice white streak in my roots. Pepe LePew is falling in love with me. Tensing Norgay has tried to climb to the summit of my part. I look like I have cream filling. We're talking gray.

And do you know what happened? First of all, I do not know what is going on outside, but I am constantly sniffing and crying, like I am some emo cocaine addict or something. My eyes are burn burn burning and I want to claw them out, they itch so bad.

It was particularly dreadful today and at about 3:00 I started to realize I was getting a migraine. I have read that migraines and sinus headaches are somehow related, although I can tell you they are distant relatives, like Princess Diana and Winston Churchill, because NOTHING hurts like a migraine.

My hair appointment wasn't till 6:00, so I went to Rite Aid and got me some Claritin, even though it's $9,403.92 for ten pills. I thought maybe if my sinuses weren't so bad, the migraine wouldn't be, either.

Mmm-hmmm.

I got to the hair place feeling mighty awful, and guess what. GUESS WHAT! Half an hour later, I am still sitting in the front, reading an Elle (I  love that E. Jean!), and I have a throbbing, crushing migraine AND my eyes are watering and I want to claw them out AND I am nauseated. Plus I have roots.

Why can't things happen on time? I mean, my roots happened on time. But appointments. Why can't they be on time? I am forever showing up places at the prescribed hour, because I am German and also Midwestern, and yet no one else seems to be functioning in a timely manner. WHY? Why can't things be efficient? Am I the only person who resents WAITING HALF AN HOUR to get her hair done?

So I left. It was one of those things where all I could do was hang on till I got home, and then as soon as I was here I went straight to bed with all my clothes on. I woke up at 8:30 spooning Tallulah. Her ear was splayed across the pillow and we were holding hands. She is a good and faithful nurse. I am using her as a footrest as I type this. I guess she is not into the Clash.

Therefore, my roots continue. My head looks like every landscape scene from Fargo

I think I am gonna try to find a new hairdresser. A German one. The BMW of hairdressers. I actually have no idea if BMWs are German or not. Okay, the Volkswagen of hairdressers. That's what I'm looking for.

Before I leave, I offer you the obligatory.

Ornery

Henry will play with anything. Even an unsharpened pencil. He's not choosy. He's easily amused. The whole world is his Clash documentary.

In a gadda da vida. Or, five pictures of Tallulah’s tongue.

Surprise

Clearly I am obsessed with showing you photos from my pink surprise party I threw for myself five years ago. This was the part where I went outside and came back in and made everyone yell, "SURPRISE!" Boy. What a shock. I just had no idea.

Do you wonder why I have any friends at all?

But showing you this photo is not why I forced you all here today. I wanted to show you photos of Tallulah's adventure this weekend, which I forgot to post.

Discovery

One day Tallulah found a beautiful garden, which was right near her house.

Annabelle

Even though she had been up and down every street, and hither and yon, and also here and there, she had just never turned down this particular road until this particular day.

Pittyfacered

"Me really find such a pretty place? Me dip into the catnip again? Lula tripping? Lula not sure."

Flutterby

There was wildlife to admire, and maybe snap our jaws at because we are rotten dogs.

Statuedog

There was art to contemplate. "Why there art? Why there not just kibble all the time?"

Greenandpurple 
And so many colors to enjoy.

Burgundypink

  Lookout
Lantana
This pretty. This be prettier if Lula not colorblind.

It was a good discovery. It was a good day.

Menlu

HermitsCatz had stupid day. Why catz not get to go nowhere?

Why Francis beaming up right now?


 

We admitted we were powerless

Before I talk about my hair, which I'm sure you're thrilled I'm going to discuss again, let's talk about tonight's Martha Washington/Ma Ingalls/Annie Oakley evening I had, over here.

I got home from work and Marvin was already home, pleased as punch with himself as he always is. I stampeded to the refrigerator, as I am wont to do, like I am one of the Brady Bunch kids. I always look for that small chalkboard near the fridge to see if we need apples. Remember how the Bradys had that chalkboard? And it always had benign grocery-list items like "apples." It was never anything controversial like Neosynephrine or Glade.

I opened the fridge, and the little man who turns the light on in our ice box, as my gramma would call it, must have had the day off. "The light in our fridge is out," I told Marvin.

"Yeah, I saw that," he said. Helpfully.

Then I grabbed the remote so I wouldn't miss a minute of TMZ, cause I like to catch up on the news when I get home, and the remote didn't work either.

"The remote's broken!" I crabbed.

"Yeah, I know," said Marvin. Helpfully.

Turns out? All the power was out in every house on our block. And Marvin KNEW this, he just wanted to see my reaction to everything in life not working. Scientific question number one: how annoying is Marvin? (Does anyone remember when I asked that months ago, about how he gets up at 5:00 but waits till he hears MY alarm go off at 6:00 and then he DASHES into the bathroom? Yeah.)

Did you ever know that you need power to 1. Watch TV, 2. Use the computer, 3. Call anyone, 4. Have lights, 5. Cook anything in the microwave, which is the only way I cook and 6. Air-condition your house?

I mean, there was NOTHING TO DO. NOTHing. You can imagine what Marvin suggested we do, with no air conditioning and 98% humidity, but the bloom is off THAT rose, particularly when someone snortles until his wife figures out there is no power in the house.

So we discussed Man Men again, which was FABULOUS and you all need to go out and rent years one and two so I can discuss it ad nauseum on this blog. Then Marvin read excerpts from the book Mortified, which is hilarious.

Finally, we tried to get Tallulah to jump through a hoop. Cause I finally found a hula-hoop in a store, for $3.20.

Hoop

Please also take time to enjoy the 48 inches of my backside, which gets exposed every time I bend over, because have I mentioned how I am enjoying this trend of low-rise pants? Not annoying at all.

At any rate, I held treats on the other side, and she JUMPED through the hoop on her second try! Then on her third? She got her feets tangled up in the hoop and now she's afraid of it.

I hate everything.

But as you can see from this picture, not only do I need to do something with this lawn, stat, but my straightener has continued to work.  Many of you wrote in and asked if it lasted beyond Sunday, when I did all that work straightening it. First of all, have you met my hair? I could go 20 weeks without washing it and it wouldn't look dirty. Plus also too, there's no way I'd spend that much time on it if it was only gonna last the day.

So, yeah. It's still straight-ish. Here is my hair now, after having been forced to live without air conditioning for the last four hours:

Hair

Oh! And I almost forgot to tell you that on the way to work today? A man in the next car beeped at me and said, "Wooo!" to me.

Really! "Wooo!" That's what he said. That paid for the CHI, right there. I immediately got on the horn to Marvin to tell him this stunning fact, and he said, "Did he like your car?"

Did he like my car.

And he wonders why I don't get all amorous during a blackout.

Do you know what I am glad about? I am glad people have pretty much stopped saying “chi-chi” when they mean fancy.

Okay! So Sunday dawned bright and early, as opposed to Sunday dawning at noon, like we're in Finland or something, and I got ready for CHI experience number two.

I don't mean that I pooped on my CHI. I mean that, if you'll recall, last time I tried this supposedly miraculous hair-straightening tool that cost six thousand five hundred and ten dollars, I looked like Garth of Wayne and Garth.

Straight

Um. Okay. Party on. Excellent. Baberaham Lincoln.

Really, that Wayne and Garth movie was funny. What was the name of that movie? …Wayne's World. Oh, thank God I thought of it. Otherwise it'd be like the time I was 10 and couldn't think of Steve Lawrence's last name and all day it was obsessing me and all I could think of for his last name was "and Edie" because he was part of a duo called Steve and Edie and finally my mother and I were shopping at McDonald's Nursery and I screamed out, "LAWRENCE!"

Which didn't make me look insane to the other shoppers at McDonald's Nursery or anything. And why my 10-year-old-self had to think of the last name of a vaguely relevant part of the Rat Pack like Steve Lawrence is beyond me. I mean, I know he wasn't really part of the Rat Pack, but he was up Frank Sinatra's heiney like nobody's business, we all know that.

For anyone who still reads me in my hometown of Saginaw, is McDonald's Nursery still there?

Getting back to the subject at hand, after I showed you all the picture of my Janis the Muppet hair, above, many of you wrote in with tips, like, blow it straight first. Use product, you mo'. Things like that.

So yesterday I got accoutrement and today I commenced to straightening once again. Join me on a photo journey of my hair, won't you?

Goodmorning

Oh, hai! My hair is WAVING at you! It's also poufing and growling and mewling and doing all sorts of other unruly possessed things. Let me get in the shower and I'll get back to you. I'm gonna wash that imp right outta my hair…

I started drying my hair at 11:39. I put it into sections like you said, and I used the round brush and also product.

Robingibb

Hi. I'm Robin Gibb. I started a joke. My follicles walked into a bar.

And I want you to know, I AM getting my roots done on Wednesday. Everyone is grateful, I'm sure. There's snow on my roof, but there's still fire in my coals, or whatever that saying is.

I heated up that CHI and I did PAPER THIN pieces of hair. Really, I heard all of you telling me things as I worked. It was like I had voices in my head. Some people have muses, I have commenters.

Straightish

Okay, it's not PERFECT yet, bit I did better this time, no? It's way less Greg Alman than the first time I CHId it, right? I was done by 12:30. So the whole thing took eighty-six hours.

Do my teeth look sort of gray in this photo? Why are they GRAY? I have had them professionally whitened and I use Crest Graystrips. What gives?

Oh, now I have to obsess about THAT.

LAWRENCE!

A little butterine never hurt anyone

If anyone were to ask, "Who is June?" this photo pretty much sums it up.

Me

Wearing pink, liking drama, being the center of attention, eating something terrible for me. Yep.

I know I have shown you pictures from this pink party before. This was my 39th birthday, when we still lived in LA in my favorite apartment, ever. I had a surprise party for myself. Don't tell me!

Do you know when I sent out invitations saying just that, one of my friends actually went to great pains to not tell me? I have no idea what she was thinking, but you give her an order and she follows it. She would have made an excellent Nazi.

Everyone who came to my party had to wear pink. I had party favors where I took those big, thin, tall candles in a glass, the ones that usually have pictures of saints on them? And my friend superimposed my face onto a 1950s picture of a woman cooking a whole chicken. The candles said, "I survived June's dinner party." For years after I would go to people's houses and see that dang candle everywhere.

One of my neighbors from that neighborhood just told me last week that she still HAS that candle.

Do they sell those candles at the grocery store everywhere, or is that just an LA thing? I have to say I have never looked for them here.

I have no idea how I got off on that tangent, other than that I found this picture.

I am getting ready to CHI my hair again. I went back to the store and got a round brush, cause you all told me to, and styling product, ditto. I sniffed the CHI styling products and my throat closed up. You know how I am allergic to everything.

Anyway, I will show you pictures tomorrow. Gives you something to look forward to.

Oh! And since we're nowhere near the topic? Making those M&M's to give to the comment of the week? Would cost $130. There's a minimum purchase. Sad.

In  non-M&M-related news, Marvin and I are beside ourselves today because the season premiere of Mad Men starts tonight. We are ridiculously thrilled about this. Marvin wishes he were Don Draper. He so isn't. But I am no January Jones, so there you go.

Marvin and I watched the worst Lifetime Television for Ovaries movie last night ever, Last Exit. And I understand that "worst" and "Lifetime movie" are redundant. But this one made NO SENSE. All we did was watch two women go about their days, mostly in their cars. We kept waiting for something to happen.

We wanted to stop watching, but then we became determined to see if SOMETHING would happen EVER.

After it was over, I said to Marvin, "I have three words for you: butterine."

Marvin and I sat through an old movie once, where the entire plot was everyone wanted to open a butterine factory. We were both all, what on God's green earth is BUTTERINE? And they never told us. It got to the point where every time they said "butterine," we were hysterical.

Turns out butterine is another word for margarine. And you know how you've clamored to open your own margarine factory.

And speaking of fooling Mother Nature, I will go work on my hair now. Good day, sir.

Hulk Answers

(In case you missed yesterday's post, I asked people to write in with questions for Faithful Reader Hulk, who is in that teensy minority of male Bye Bye, Pie readers. Hulk comments regularly, and about 17,000 women have written in to say they have a crush on him. So here are their probing questions and Hulk's scintillating answers.)

PJ asks~"Is green the new black?"

Hulk doesn't even know what the OLD black is…and don't say Morgan Freeman…

Roxie's Mom asks~"Please Ask Hulk to tell us about the pet psychic. Unless he doesn't remember that one either because you hit him in the head with that purse."

The pet psychic is all June…Hulk is so NOT L.A.  The Hulk is STILL shaking his head over that.  And June did not HIT me with her purse…she was merely inconsolable.   As I recall.  Stupid JH.

Carrie asks~"I would like to ask Hulk if he lives in MI and is looking for a date! I'm trying to set my Mom up with someone and she loves funny green men. : )"

Hulk has a sister with the same name, Carrie…I PRAY right now you are not my sister…I am sure she is a fine person, and I mean nothing bad at all, but how depressing to read that someone wants to introduce me to their MOM…ugh.  Maybe we can go on a bingo date?  *Sigh*  Hulk is a Michigander, but Ohio is the greatest state in the Union in Hulk's mind.

KW asks~"Please ask Hulk this: How old is your little girl, and what is the hardest thing about being a single dad?"

Little Hulkette is eight going on 30…soon to be starring in the next great Hollywood epic based on the drama she oozes.  Hardest thing?  Ponytails.  Ha.  No.  I'd say discipline.  It is a fine line you have to walk between making sure she is getting through all the crapola and making sure she doesn't try to walk all over me.  So far, so good.

Jan asks~"Some of my questions for Hulky are not suitable for a blog for 19-85 year olds… Yes, I am one of the readers who is crushing on the Hulk.

"Tell me Hulk… what is your favorite feature of a woman?

"What happened with your marriage? (If you don't mind sharing.)

"Do you watch football? If so, who is your favorite team?

"Hulk… do you watch chic flicks willingly? Are you excited about the opening of The Time Travelers Wife tonight?

"How old is your daughter? Is she a Jonas Brothers fan?

"That is all for now… back with more later."

Holy Moly. In order:

Eyes (you buying this?).  No, for real, Hulk loves him some bright eyes-like Kathy Ireland's eyes.

The marriage: To quote Bill Murray in What About Bob?:  "There are those who like Neil Diamond, and those who don't."  Actually, just two different people who quit getting along.

Does Hulk watch football???  Does June have hair issues???  Despite his green exterior (and posterior), Hulk prefers Ohio State over Michigan State (although he is a closet Sparty from time to time) and the Cleveland Browns.

Chic flicks: Hulk can be the sensitive type at times, but he prefers a good comedy.  Seen The Hangover yet?  OMG–fall-down funny.  Don't miss the pictures during the end credits…Time Traveler's Wife?  That would be a date movie and Hulk does NOT have a date for tonight…unless Carrie's MOM is free…

Hulkette is eight and does NOT like The Jonas Brothers, she just told me.  Even though she watches the show.  Every day.  She does have a Hannah Montana themed room at Hulk's house, Camp Rock at her mom's.

Dawn in Austin~I'll pose if you'll pose…

Furry Godmother asks~"Ain't it easy being green? Wasn't Kermit just being a kvetch?"

It is hard to find matching socks, but other than that…Kermit was constantly being harassed by a pig.  Hulk can relate…WHOA, HEY NOW…sorry, was that out loud?? [June would like to interject for a moment to say Furry's question is comment of the week. I went around at work giggling about this Q for an hour.]

Gertrude asks~"Have you ever had a hernia? If so, what did it feel like? If not, what do you know about hernias?"

Wha???  Uh…actually Hulk was BORN with a hernia, and had to spend a week in the hospital as a mini-Hulk.  I remember counting down from 100 and getting to 91 (how weird is THAT to remember?) and then doing a lot of crafts.  Hulk also once pushed his buddy's hernia back in during a high school football game; Hulk prefers not to think about that…

Rebekah asks~"Did you give yourself the Hulk moniker or did someone else come up with this? And either way… does it describe how easily you're angered or your physique or just an admiration for Lou Ferrigno?"

Junie came up with Hulk…She misread my work signature on an email [I did not! I was being funny. June does not misread.].  Junie is quick that way.  Hulk admires Lou for his ability to overcome a handicap and his fine work on King Of Queens.  Hulk also does not really get that angry unless THE STINKIN' INDIANS CAN'T GET THE DAMN RUN HOME FROM THIRD WITH LESS THAN TWO OUTS!!  ARGH!  Hulk is NOT a body-builder, but does have some brawn to go with his brains.  Hulk could stand to lose a few pounds, but WHO COULDN'T??  OK??  GET OFF MY BACK!!

Dana asks~"Will you CHI with June? Will CHI June's hair and post a video diary of the process?"

Hulk has too much respect for my man Marv, who will ASSUREDLY be going to heaven.  So sorry, no.

Beth asks~"What is your favorite event in the Olympics? Why? (You do watch the Olympics, don't you?) Who is your favorite actor? What is your favorite TV show?
Do you play any sports?"

Hulk loves the bullet point, so here we go:

  • Bobsled-I like watching them all run like crazy then try to jump in before the sled leaves without them.  Actually, almost all the winter events are cool.  Not a summer Olympics guy so much…
  • It changes, but right now, probably Seth Rogan
  • Seinfeld. I know it is an old show; but Hulk and his friends still rip Seinfeld lines off at each other all the time…we crack each other up.  Yes, I am still single…why?  Second favorite show?  Cheers.  Hulk has tried to model his life after that of Sam Malone.  Again, yes I am still single…why do you keep asking me that?
  • Hulk was a baseball and football player in high school and was one of the most lightly-recruited players in HS history.  One college.  And I did not go.  For football.  Hulk now plays softball and basketball and golfs on occasion.  I will also be coaching Little Hulkette in basketball this winter.  I will have my assistant do the ponytail.

Cristy demands~"OK, so Hulk, please explain (in a funny way) why it is now okay to end sentences with prepositions. Let's see how he does with THAT one."

No pressure, Cristy.  Why don't YOU try to be funny on the spot.  Huh??  Kidding.  Actually, Cristy, it is NOT OK to do that.  Don't do it.  It will give you the bends.  Of.

Paula FNY, D writes~"OMG, I thought he was 'Hunk' all this time until the ripped pants and green references."

Thanks, Paula FNY, D…no, I am not offended…don't worry about it.  My ego is not fragile or anything…

My Pal in MA asks~"Hulk, would you please describe yourself? Those of us married ladies out there who are digging on you would like to know what you look like! Also, what is it that you find most attractive in a woman?"

Imagine a combination of Brad Pitt, George Clooney, and Matt Damon…then throw that image away because it isn't even close.  Unless you want to keep it for yourself…Hulk is on the tall side, broad shoulders, kind of brawny but could use some firming up, could stand to lose a few…super-short hair, a goatee that is getting more grey every day.

Most attractive in a woman?  Well, I am like any other red-blooded American male, so I notice what they notice.  But Hulk is an eye man.  After the physical, Hulk is attracted to intelligence, a quick wit, an easy-going personality, and a sports gal.

Linda in CO asks~"Hulk, why would any woman in her right mind divorce you? Was it one pair of underwear on the floor too many, or one 'Honey could you get me a beer since you're in the kitchen already cooking my dinner, and by the way, I'm out of clean socks' comment too many?"

I think you answer your own question when you say "in her right mind"…although I may be a little biased…

Juice asks~"Do you attend church?"
 
For every wedding ceremony I am invited to…

Beth asks~"What do you think about all of us married women crushing on you? What do you think our husbands would think about us crushing on you?"
 
I think you should tell all your hot single friends about this really cool, funny, mountain of male virility.

I don't know what your husbands would think of this "crush" thing, but I know what they are generally thinking:  "I hope my wife will give me hot, passionate sex tonight and tomorrow morning."  And I think you should all oblige them.  You're welcome, fellas.  Anything for the brotherhood. 

Deb Stone asks~"I'm divorced, too, and I wonder if a man might find a slightly agoraphobic, shark-week lovin', regular looking mother of two children attractive…or do things need to change? (Obviously, NOT with the having of the two children!)Is it about looks? What's the deal (or deal breaker) – I'm very happy on my own (TRULY!) but if a nice man came along, who am I to say no?"

I am sure there are any number of men that are looking for those exact characteristics-there is probably some guy friend of yours right now who is desperately trying to win your affections.  If you are happy with yourself, then why make a bunch of changes?  Thanks for the question.  Next on Dr. Phil…

Nell Jean asks~"Ask the Hulk what happened to our Team buttons, or was that just pretend?"

Was I supposed to do something here?  I was Team Marvin; I made MYSELF a button… [June here. Buttons were made on July 15. Go back to that post.]

Kellye asks~"I thought you were Hulk like Hulk Hogan – you know, all tan and blonde? Which Hulk are you?"

I do tan, especially when Little Hulkette and I spend our weekend by the pool, but other than being divorced, losing my hair, and having a BEAUTIFUL daughter, I am nothing like Hulk Hogan.  I saw him once–I was hawking programs and t-shirts at one of those wrestling things–he is MUCH shorter than you would think.

Teri asks~"Dear Hulk, Tell us what June was REALLY like in high school. Come on…dish the dirt!"

Slutty, trampy…

I am kidding.  Junie was very much like she now.  Very dry, witty humor, kind of all over the place.  She had a column in our school paper in which she constantly bitched about stupid stuff-prepping to be a wife I guess-and she was very popular.  I don't recall the trampiness she seems to brag about, but then again we didn't really run in the same circles all the time.  Considering the trampiness, I regret that tremendously.

Steve writes~"I was just wondering if Hulk minds that I am the only other man in the world who reads June's posts. I had to find out what all the hysteria was coming from my wife as she read the posts. Now I have filled my cup with June Kool-Aid. The only things I refuse to do as of now are wear vanilla bourbon perfume or bring Hulk any milkshakes."
 
Hulk doesn't get it either…hysteria???  And please…no male milkshakes…not that there is anything wrong with that…I am having a hard enough time dealing with all this as it is… 

Tee asks~"I don't see a comment from Hulk. What's up with the silence?"

There were so many good questions, and the only thing I could come up with to ask myself was "Where did you leave the damn shed key?"  And that really wasn't all that funny, so I just refrained from asking.
 
(So ends our Qs with Hulk. This wasn't a pain in my ARSE or anything, trying to make sure all the questions got answered by Hulk and put down here on this post, making sure those with links got linked, and so on. Yeesch! If I missed your question, please let me know and I will ignore it.

Love ya!

June. Of the Trampy in High School Junes.)

Ask Hulk. And his survival pie.

Gee, it's a shame none of you comment anymore.

I kid! As of this writing, I have over 200 comments on my last post, because I asked you all to tell me how old you are. Faithful Reader Accidental Housewife made me an impressive chart showing all of our ages:

June Right now, we are 39.6 years old, on average. Of course, this is highly scientific, seeing as I had about 1,200 readers yesterday and only 200 people gave their ages. But whatever. You want science, go read Darwin's blog.

I wonder what Darwin would call his blog. Bye Bye, Survival Pie!

That made no sense. At all.

Other than the exciting news about our average age and that we got to meet lots of lurkers (hi, lurkers! Thanks for coming out yesterday! I wrote a lot of you back so check your spam!), someone did come up with a BRILLIANT idea. And don't get all offended, whoever you were, that I am calling you "someone." You really want me to comb through all those comments to see who it was? You want combing? Go on Rapunzel's blog.

Bye Bye, Tower in the Sky!

The BRILLIANT idea is this: We have Ask Hulk day.

If you don't read my comments, you're all, Who the Sam Holy Hill is Hulk? And see, this is why if you don't read the comments you are silly in the head.

Hulk is a boy, and my old friend from high school. We were in journalism together. After high school, we only saw each other one time, and that was at a wedding reception. We were having so much fun that we moved on to a bar, which I'm certain was a good idea and probably deeply needed. Cause it was important that we go PAY to drink and hear a bad band.

At any rate, we were having a high time until my on again/off again boyfriend walked in with another girl. Oh, the drama! The purse throwing! The tears!

Thank all that is merciful Hulk recalls nothing of this night. Because ridiculous? Yes. Yes, I was. Plus, I never thought he'd forgive me for throwing his purse.

So, that was 1988, and this year Hulk and I found each other on Facebook and he comments on my blog and all the ladies in the house are bringing their milkshakes to his yard because WOMEN LOVE HULK. He is funny, he is divorced, and I totally have June's Blog and Adultery Services, over here. Seriously. Like, four different women have admitted they have crushes on the Hulk.

And other than his green skin and ripped trousers, he is a fine figure of a man.

So, ask your Ask Hulk Qs today. You could ask him probing Qs about his divorce, or what it was like to watch me throw that purse (which he doesn't remember), or what my hair was like in high school, or what he's looking for in wife number two, whatever. I will gather questions over the weekend and he'll answer next week.

I will leave you now with Marvin's favorite line: "Champagne for my real friends, real pain for my sham friends."

I am sorry to tell you that he really does love that line. But that's not what I meant to say. I MEANT to say I will leave you with pet photos, including everyone's favorite little obligatory, Henry.

Sentinel

Okay, I know this isn't Henry. I just wanted to show you Lula in her element. Someone must have told her that she has to guard the front yard in order to keep living here. She is obsessed. That arm of the couch is filthy from her constant leaning on it, like some fishwife hanging out a window.

I do not know if fishwives really hang out windows. But you know how in movies there's always some wisecracking person in Brooklyn hanging out a window? I mean, not in EVERY movie. It would have made no sense in, say, Jaws. But a fishwife might have made sense in Jaws. "I'm sick of that shark eating my fish husband and all my fish kin! Get him!"

Honestly, do you worry that I take drugs?

Bigfran

HERE we go. It's hard to fathom that Francis used to be SMALLER THAN HENRY. It's hard to fathom that Francis used to be smaller than Mama Cass.

Okay, bye, you 39.6-year-olds.

*UPDATE* It's Saturday morning and I have been working for an hour to get all the Ask Hulk Qs and As onto my blog. So, no more Hulk questions for now, cause I'm about to go to print! How much do you want to whack me for saying "go to print"?

Delurk time!

I just spent my normal blogging time watching our last episode of Entourage that we have, so we can return it to the kind people at Netflix.

That show makes me homesick for the life I ABSOLUTELY DID NOT LIVE in LA. Cause you know how often I was out partayyin' till dawn and hooking up with hot babes. And how I had an agent.

Since I can't really post today, let's have official delurking-and-tell-me-your age day! I know that made no sense.

If you've been reading me awhile and have never said, "Hey," go ahead. Be brave. You can even sign in anonymously and all you have to say is "Hey!"

Also too, if you have or have not been saying hey, tell me how old you are. I was talking with a reader yesterday about how they didn't know who Edgar Winter is, and it got me wondering what the average age of my reader is. You can sign in anonymously on that, too, if you don't want all of us knowing you're 62 cause you have a 38-year-old boyfriend or whatever.

Oh! And finally! Faithful Reader Karen inspired me yesterday too. What if I got those personalized M&M's in light blue and red to match my blog, and sent a bag to the comment of the week person each week? They're not really expensive or anything. Wouldn't that be cool? Faithful Reader Karen thinks I should put my photo on the M&M's but my theory is no one wants to eat my face, really. I thought maybe they could just say Bye Bye, Pie or something.

Okay, must go to work. Because I'm not Vincent Chase, movie star.