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