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.


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.


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


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.


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.


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.


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.


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:


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.


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:


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


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.

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.


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


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.



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


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.


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?


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.


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?