June's stupid life · My pets

I just chugged in from D.C. and boy is my sanity tired

I just got back and have all sorts of things to tell you, but it looks like Henry might have broken his kitty leg. It's all swollen up. I can't blog because I'm going to take him out back and shoot him. Welcome back to the South!

No, no. Marvin is getting his carrier out of the attic and I am screaming to the all-night vet. Poor kitty. Details to follow.

June's stupid life · Times I Amused My Own Self · Travel

Don’t get Madison, but I don’t Lincoln to anything in this one. Quit Reagan on me!

I'm in D.C. and I'm having a capitol time! Bah!

The train ride was kind of fun. I got to sit and watch the world go by. The only part about the train is, why do other people have to exist?

The old lady next to me was just fine. I had no issue with her. Well, every once in awhile she would kind of suck her dentures in this disgusting way, but what are you gonna do? It was the least of my worries.

All around me I had people speaking on their cell phones at the tops of their lungs ("NOW, THIS IS CONFIDENTIAL INFORMATION! BE SURE TO MARK IT CONFIDENTIAL!"). Then the woman behind me made friends with the people across from her, and she was one of those people who only talks about herself. Says the woman with a blog about herself.

But really, she would tell something about herself ("I have horses! My stallion, he likes to show off! He sure does. I walk up and he goes, 'Neeeiiighhhh!' He sure does. Umm-hmmm.") and her neighbors would politely say, "Really! Wow!" and then there'd be a pause. "My husband, he likes my hair long. He says, 'Don't never cut it, Sheila!' Nope!" (He is NIXON any plans for her to cut her hair.)

You know, not, hey, do you guys like horses, or how do you guys feel about stallions, or do you like the Italian Stallion? It's called CONVERSATION. It's not just running commentary about YOU.

Says the woman who is providing running commentary about her.

My HipstaPrint 0(3)
The Greensboro train station was pretty, as was the one in D.C., although as you can imagine, dramatically different in the busyness factor. What people here? Good gravy. Last night Sleeping Beauty and I walked down to CVS and I had to wedge through nine hundred million people to get an eyebrow pencil, and wait in line seven weeks.

My fake Chilean miner mustache is annoying, so tonight when we go to Halloween parties I am drawing one on. In case you were worried sick about why I went to CVS. (I don't have enough HARRISON to sport my own mustache. BAH!)

Sleeping lives in a cute neighborhood across the street from a store called "Convenient Store." She knew I would be pleased about that. And not so convenient, as they did not have eyebrow pencils. And they never offer to CARTER bags home. Woo!

Also too, look what she has!

My HipstaPrint 0
Does she have a pooky bear puppy noodleyhead? Is he big big big? Do I love him so bad? His name is Puck. He is wearing a jaunty Halloween court jester collar. He is BUSHed.

Last night he slept on me. Splayed all across me. All 70 pounds of him. I was so HAPPY he picked me. I love him so bad. Did I mention that?

I had better go get ready so we can rally and take lewd pictures with the Washington monument and so forth. Sleeping Beauty and Puck are out having their morning CONSTITUTIONal. Get it?

Oh, with the Washington humor. I should BILL you for it.

June's stupid life · Travel

Mrs. Gardens Goes to Washington

You know how Dooce is forever being asked to appear at the White House and talk about blogging, so she's always flying first class to D.C.?


No one asked me to show up, and I am taking a train–regular boring-person class. Nevertheless, I am leaving for Washington D.C. to spend the weekend with my close, personal friend Sleeping Beauty, who happens to live there. Everyone stalk her!

I am upcited to take the train. The last time I took a really long train ride was when I moved from Michigan to Seattle in 1992. My father, who does not give a lot of fatherly advice, told me to get a sleeping car. Oh no, I told him, I don't need one. "No really," he insisted, "it's a three-day trip. You'll need a sleeping car. I'll even pay the difference," he said.

I wouldn't hear of it.

After about 20 hours of sitting upright, who hated herself? Who wished she had listened to dad? Also too, when the DING DANG train derailed in Pocatella, Idaho, and the train was delayed by a DAY, who really really REALLY wished she'd listened to dad?

When I finally got to Seattle, my friend who met me said, "Welcome to Seattle. You look like shit."

Fortunately my train is going nowhere near Pocatella, so I am certain to be safe.

Sleeping Beauty and I are going to Jon Stewart's Rally to Restore Sanity, and we are standing here beside ourselves with excitement. Once I heard about this rally, I had to go. The whole point of it is, yes, we can disagree politically, but do we have to be nasty to each other? Even though I don't agree with you, I don't have to put a Hitler mustache on your photo, do I?

So off we go. To rally. Sanely. Moderately. And not in Pocatella. Where we'll get derailed.

Afterwards, we have many Halloween parties to attend, which should be interesting because Sleeping has to run a marathon the next morning. And you know how she enjoys shooting up the herrroyn. So I don't even know how that's gonna work.

So I don't know if I'll be a-blogging from Sleeping's house or not. But I will take pictures. Maybe I'll just decide to throw caution to the wind and run the marathon. Or, you know, not.

Y'all all have a lovely weekend. Be sane.

June's stupid life · Times I Amused My Own Self

I’ve been a miner for a heart of gold

Who can't get enough of herself? I am going as a Chilean miner for Halloween. Would somebody get me out of this hole? What do you mean this is my regular life?

Do you know what the Chilean miners probably wore a lot of? Earrings. Remind me not to wear those tomorrow.

We are having our Halloween party at work tomorrow instead of Friday, I have no idea why, and children are coming, so you can imagine how busy I have been shoving the razor blades in the Baby Ruths and so forth. Also, we are having a cubicle-decorating contest.

I am decorating my cubicle with a sparkly pink skull, naturally; bright green cobweb material; and "funny" tombstones such as the one above. I think I am the only one who will like them. It's kind of editor humor.

Which is a contradiction in terms. We make jokes about leading and kerning and bad apostrophes. I know! You need to stitch up your sides.

When I was a kid, all I dressed up as was some form of fairy princess. I think I was a bride one year, which is, you know, princessy. And one year I was Tinkerbell. And one year I said eff it and was a fairy princess. I stopped beating around the bush.

My friend Pal From MA and I had these matching sandals that we had grown out of, and her mom spraypainted them silver for us so we had princess shoes. I remember us lifting our skirts to show every neighbor our shoes that went with our matching costumes. We were beside ourselves and have been lifting our skirts for the neighbors ever since.

Hi, Pal from MA. Hi, Pal from MA's mom.

So, what are you gonna be for Halloween? Or are you being a GROWNUP and not DOING anything for Halloween? To which I say whatEVER.

I have to go. My wife and mistress are calling. Chi-chi-chi! Le-le-le!

June's stupid life · Pieces of Wisdom

Pieces of Wisdom: Everything You Never Wanted to Know About Marvin

It's Wednesday, which means it's time for Pieces of Wisdom. Today we are gleaning our wisdom from the great and powerful Marvin, my spouse of 12 years. And three months. And nine days. But who's counting? Yesterday I asked you all to ask any burning, itching questions you had for Marvin, and they appear below. I edited the dumb ones, such as Furry's Q about how many jelly beans are in a jar. Now watch, we'll find out she's been up all night waiting for Marvin's answer.

Because we have 7,304 questions that you asked Marv, let's stampede right to them, shall we?

Oh, and I adore y'all, but there is no way I am linking to everyone who asked a Q. This is gonna take forever to cut and paste and ask and write down as it is. Whose idiotic idea was Pieces of Wisdom, anyway? (Also, I just woke up and some of you DID NOT READ the rules and there were more Qs for Marv after deadline. Hello. How did you think I was gonna ask him, type them down and post them when you asked them at 4:30 in the morning? HMM? HMMMMM?)

Marvin, how long have you been teaching? What do you teach? Does your class LOVE you?

This is my fourth full year of teaching. I teach science and social studies to fifth-graders. My class is indifferent to me on good days.

Why did you decide to go into teaching instead of staying in the movies?

I got into teaching for the pizza dippers from the cafeteria. And the free hand sanitizer.

Why DID you cave to the [puppy]?

Because along with the puppy comes a '66 Plymouth. [We compromised. God help me–June]

How DO you put up with June?

I'm on serious medication.

What's the deal with leftover lasagna noodle?

I felt sorry for it. I'm like one of those hoarder people. I didn't want to hurt its feelings by throwing it away.

What is your top 5 list of things to do? If they all include music what are a couple more that don't include music?

I don't do anything. Okay.

1. Not answer any questions that involve my top five anything. 2. Just saying "number two" makes me laugh. 3. I enjoy a good pastrami sandwich. 4. I am a roller coaster jumkie. Can't get enough of them. 5. Okay, not really.

What kind of car do you drive?

I drive a 1966 Plymouth Furry III VIP.

Are you a dog or a cat person? Why?

Neither. I'm just a person.

If there were a fire and you only had time to grab one item from your home (other than the pets and June of course!) what would you grab and why?

My checkbook. Because it has all the $ in it. That, and the half a pastrami sandwich from lunch.

What is your favorite thing about your home?

The mortgage.

What is it about feet that disgusts you so? Did you have a bad foot experience?

Feets stink.

What type of music do you like? List in order of preference. Who are your top 5 favorite musicians? And, please tell us about your band.

My favorite music is ring tones. June is shaking her head in disgust. My top five are Tiny Tim, Regular Tim, Gigantic Tim, Humongous Tim and Sting.

I play in a Rush tribute band. We're called Rush.

If you were stranded on a desert island and could only have one book what would it be? 

Sailing Alone Around the World.

Same island: one music CD, record, or 8-track tape – whatever blows your skirt up.

The Macarena. 

This is simple: a yes or a no will do. Brussels sprouts?

If you pour water on them.

What is your favorite part of teaching fifth graders? Which is the worst? Do you have a favorite student? Do you have one you just absolutely hate and would like nothing more than to accidentally run him or her over in the parking lot?

I like recess. And PE. And hot dog lunches. The worst part is that I only get to teach them for one year. Re favorite student and one I hate? Yes. They are one and the same.

What kind of gifts do they give you for holidays? What do you REALLY want?

They give me bronchitis and I really want a raise. Give teachers a nice cat and a security guard for their classroom.

Cauliflower or broccoli?


McDonald's or Taco Bell?

Burger Chef.

Coke or Pepsi?

Neither, please. Too fizzy.

Do you mind all of us all up in your business or do we get on your nerves?

Yes. Please go away.

How come you won't let June have the pretty screen door?

Cause they attract the pretty bugs.

Marvin, do you sometimes wish YOU were Lot?

I wish I were his brother, Parking Lot.

Marvin, which one of your many pets is your favorite?

Francis, of course.

Marvin my man, is there a reason that every button-down shirt you own seems to be plaid? Oh, and short-sleeved?

I get them on a bulk discount. Hulk and I shop at the same store.

Do you embarrass easily and get flushed? If so how do you handle it?

Who's asking this? I'll flush them.

Marvin, would you do your best impersonation of June and then let her photograph it for this here blog?

Photograph it? Don't type that. Stop it. I mean it. You suck.

Marvin, now that we've seen your hands, can we see your feet?

You know what they say. Big feet, big boots.

Why did you unfriend me? 

Who are you?

Are you going as Antoine Dobson for Halloween? or Lot?

Hide yo' salt wife.

Marvin, are you right or left-handed?

That is right, I'm a leftie.

Do you know how lucky all of us here in blog-land think you are, getting to live with June and all your critters?

Get a life.

Are you a sock-shoe, sock-shoe person? or a sock-sock, shoe-shoe?

I'm gonna sock-sock you you.

Missionary or doggie?

Both at once.

Why won't you wear shorts when it's 174 degrees outside? 

Cause my legs would burn off.

How do you not age?

I not tan.

Did it really piss you off when we all cyber-bullied you when June whined incessantly about wanting a puppy?

I cherished each and every moment.

Why do 5th graders have so much homework, and why is it harder than when I was in 5th grade? Do 5th-grade teachers secretly hate parents?

Well, we live in a very competitive world and we need to drive all our kids crazy and stress them out to prepare them for the jobs of tomorrow that won't exist by the time they graduate. If it weren't for the parents, there wouldn't be any kids.

If the Pioneer Woman invited you and June out to her ranch to stay at the lodge…would you go?

Why doesn't the Pioneer Woman just invite ME out to the ranch? I'll bring the washboard.

Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader?

I am one day smarter.

If you could live anywhere in the world and not have to worry about the money to get there, where would it be?

Fort Knox.

Closet Tea Partier or other?

I'm a closet teetotaler.

Did you actually choose to teach 5th grade, or was that the only elementary school grade available at that school? What is your best trick for getting them to learn, or even pay attention?

Yes, I enjoy the upper grades. Lots of candy and threatening to take away recess.

Which age/grade is harder?? Third, 4th, or 5th???

I had a bitch of a time in third grade. I still don't understand the metric system.

What's your favorite joke? 

The one that ends: "Why you want broccoli beef now?" or the one where the skeleton walks into the bar and says, "Bartender, give me a beer and a sponge."

What's your favorite thing about yourself?

My uvula.

Can you pat your head and rub your belly at the same time?

There. Did you see it?

Do you ever miss living in Michigan? Would you move back if there were any jobs? How do you like living in the South?

I don't miss Michigan. But I miss Miss Michigan 1986. Bless your heart.

What do you think of June's blog and more importantly, what do you think of us?

I wonder how all of you fit inside the computer. If it weren't for her blog, I would never know when she was mad at me. Oh, wait, she's always mad at me.

How do you get a bunch of kids to simmer down and pay attention?

Didn't I answer that already?

How do you keep your hair so glossy and you know, on your head?

I use rubber cement.

Are you considerate about the toilet seat in the middle of the night?

Yes, I try never to hurt its feelings.

Is there any stuff you've refused to do even though it'd make this blog super amusing for us readers? If so, what was it?

I refused to answer this question.

When are you going to get the zoo sign out of June's mom's garage and hang it somewhere in your home?

I lose sleep at night thinking about it.

Are you going to buy 'They Call Me BabaBooey" for June next week?

What is it? [I tell him] Ohhh. She can borrow my copy.

Marvin, who is on your list of five?

Dora the Explorer…five what? [I explain]


Dora the Explorer

Teen Moms

The Situation

David Silver

Robert Kardashian

Are you worried that someday these fifth graders will be running the country?

There's not much chance of that.

What is your favorite ice cream flavor?


If you went trick-or-treating, what kind of candy would you be most excited to get?

The kind without the razor blades.

How large of a crowd do you draw in at the Green Bean?

We're expecting at least 30,000.

If you could only play one instrument, which would you choose?

The radio.

What song best describes June?

The Bitch is Back.

Do you write your own music? Melody and lyrics?

Is that person's name Melody And Lyrics? I write jazz instrumentals [he does NOT] for quadruple amputees.

Marvin, how did your teachers describe you in elementary school?

They called me the whirling dervish and the absent-minded professor. They did, really.

How do you feel about being a minor celebrity?

It's okay but it was scary riding up in that tube and wearing those sunglasses for so long.

Are there any other body parts (besides feet) that give you the willies? 

Yes, I don't like feet.

Which dog do you like better?

I like both my dogs equally better.

What is your nickname for June?

The Situation.

What is your favorite thing about living in the South?

Fried bologna.

Why do yous guys think yous have to/can fix every/anything?

Well, it's simple. Don't hate me because I'm beautiful. The end.

Marvin, what do you feel is your most outstanding quality? Think how to describe your personality in one word. And what do you feel is June's most outstanding quality? But what word do YOU think SHE would use to describe YOU?

See question 6.

If you could have one superhero power, what would it be and why?

The power to make people stop asking me questions.

Boxers or briefs? Prove it.

Who are all these perverts that read your blog?

Rush concert or couples body wax? About the same?

I'd rather wax down Rush Limbaugh.

Besides Michael Jackson, who is the most famous person you've met?

Bubbles the Chimp.

Do you listen to NPR? If so, does the Diane Rehm show get on your nerves? Do you ever listen to the radio, or just CDs/mp3s in the car?

Don't make fun of Diane Rehm. June's mom told me I couldn't make fun of Diane Rehm once, because there's something wrong with Diane Rehm but I forgot what it is.

I listen to June in the car, telling me where to go. She tells me where to go quite often.

…That's it? Can't I make a final statement? Thank you all for your insightful questions. I look forward to doing this again soon. Call me and we'll do lunch. You can pay.

June's stupid life · Pieces of Wisdom

Pieces of Wisdom: Tired of fixing the water bowl

Today's Pieces of Wisdom question actually has nothing to do with the water bowl, but I just added water to that damn dog bowl for the 20432qsju%!942th time today and I am sick and tired of it. Are they licking Lot's Wife?

How many times am I gonna drag out the Lot's Wife reference whenever we need to talk about something salty or very, you know, still? Maybe I should update my material.

My material is stagnant. It is unmoving like Lot's Wife.

See what I did there?

Anyway, here it is Tuesday already and time for another Pieces of Wisdom. Someone suggested that we ask Marvin questions, which I really don't know how that is pieces of wisdom, precisely, and I don't mean because Marvin is dumb, I mean because the POINT of Pieces of Wisdom was I was supposed to ask YOU something each week, glean YOUR wisdom, but whatever.

What I needed there was a longer sentence. That sentence was as big as Lot's Wife's sodium count. 

…Maybe what I need to do is get a larger water bowl. I am still just using Tallulah's bowl and now we have TWO dogs, plus Lot stops by and he gets thirsty after he makes out with the Mrs.

You know, I found a chat room yesterday where someone recommended my blog, and the recommender said, "The blogger is kind of nuts, but she's funny." Is it stuff like this that makes her say that, do you think?

You know what goes well with nuts?


At any rate. So for today's Pieces of Wisdom, here is your chance to ask Marvin any burning queries you may have for him. Perhaps you wonder what his favorite color is. Maybe you need to know more about his band. Or you have been up nights asking yourself, "Why would Marvin finally cave and let June get a puppy?" To which I say, really? This keeps you up nights? Because somewhere outside Sodom and Gomorrah there is a woman made of SALT. That doesn't seem more compelling to you?

Faithful readers will remember we had an Interview Marvin segment a few years back, but people come and go so quickly here. Remember frequent commenter J, who was so funny, and her sister M? And KW from Atlanta? And The Accidental Housewife? They all used to comment all the time. Where did they go? Did they turn to perhaps some kind of pillar of condiment?

So because you are all brand new with the exception of like five people, we can do an ask Marvin again. Please ask your Qs by 5 p.m. Eastern Time, as we have to get to bed and getting Marvin to answer questions is like trying to keep a slug alive around Lot's —

Oh, forget it.

Beauty products · June's stupid life · Photo essays

In which June loses her skin

Marvin just emerged from the bathroom and said, "I can't stop releasing the hounds."


Anyway, I'm tired. I stayed up late to watch that depressing movie where Meryl Streep has the cancer and her daughter is Renee Zellwegger. The worst part of that scenario would be having Renee Zellwegger as a daughter.

I took pictures of everything I did yesterday, except I did not photograph the part where I watched that depressing movie and made myself tired.

I took the sisal rug out from under the dining room table, as it seemed to be a local favorite for someone to pee on while he was learning the ropes, over here. What the hell does "sisal" mean, anyway?

I took it outside and squirted dish soap on it and hosed it down, and it dried in like 17 seconds, which was great. Also I sharked the floor. I was certain Edsel would march right in and pee on the rug after, but in fact he didn't. He is getting good at the going outside thing, thankfully.

He has been coming inside and hanging in his crate, which is excellent. Now I don't feel so guilty that he is locked in there till the Tea Partier lets him out each day while I'm at work. Apparently he likes it. Or he's a masochist. Whichever.

Then I went and got me a pedicure, which was necessary because my feet looked homeless. Whenever I show you any nail photos you always want to know what color I got, and who remembers what color they picked, especially when it's those loopy OPI color names? It's, you know, plum-ish.

Oh, and I had them do my eyebrows, forgetting that I was using that Roc night cream with Retinol. They ripped off half my eyelids and I look like that woman who was eaten by the chimp.

Then I minced over to the Old Navy, and I have to tell you I am very good at not smudging my wet nail polish. I should really get some kind of award. When I lived in LA, my mother and I would always get mani/pedis at my neighborhood place, which was called Nail…something, because all manicure places have the name "nail" in them in LA. The one near my work was called Red Nail and that didn't bother me in the slightest. Were they only going to work on ONE of your nails?

Anyway, the point is, there was a cute boutique next door and my mother would handle some item and smudge her nails every.single.time. Always. Without fail.

Fortunately I did not handle any clothes with my feet at Old Navy yesterday so my toes remained pristine.

You can never have too many white shirts for layering, I always say. Well, I don't ALWAYS say that, or this blog would be awfully redundant. And yes, that is a size large because I am Pudgy Obesenstein. Hate self. Lot of me to hate.

I also purchased cargo pants because you never know when I will be needed to join the war.

Black sweater
And I have become one of those people who thinks, "Oh, I'll wear this giant black sweater to hide my fat arse" when in reality what it will do is cling to said arse. What is that THREAD on the chair, there? Irking me.

Oh! Best part! I used the "please forgive us for being butts" gift card sent to me by the CERTAIN COSMETICS STORE and got my foundation and this cool eye shadow set! I mean, my eyes are literally naked right now, as you can see my corpuscles after that waxing error, but once I recover they will look exactly like the woman's eye on the box.

It comes with cards to show you how to apply the shadow. You know, once you have skin on your eyelids again.

Look at the pretty colors! And they have dirty names, so your eyes will look smutty! Wooo! Cannot wait to grow eyelids again so I can use these!

So that was my day. It was over in the blink of an eye. Get it? Yeah.


June's stupid life · Photo essays

Play Dog

Today, Edsel had a play date. I know.

My pal Emily, over there at Chatting at the Sky, got her own puppy snickerdoodle some weeks back and I have been obsessed with meeting him since minute one. Bringing Edsel over was an excellent way for me to obsess about HER puppy along with my own.

Edsel was a big hit with Chatting's cute family. And I know you all like it when I call her "Chatting" instead of Emily.

And no, Tallulah didn't get to go. Because she's sizeist and would have bullied poor Finn, Chatting's puppy. Y'all know how she is. I felt terrible when I got Edsel's collar on and Lu stood there like, "Lu go bareback today? Why no collar for Lu? Surely Lu not being left. Lu here first. Where you taking that teeny jerk?"

I told Lu to stop calling me Shirley and bolted out the door. Poor Talu.

Anyway. Introductions were made.

Finn was ready to play immediately and Edsel was all, "edsel no u? who u? why you spotty and not blonde like normal dog? edsel fear forinn dog."

"okay, it seven seconds later. edsel play. edsel over xenophobia."

"let play like mad men and stomp over chile!"


"dis fun. edsel enjoy. here my tongue."

"here MY tongue! okay, more stomp on chile!"

Incidentally, someone may want to call Child Protective Services on Chatting.

Chatting/Emily=Chatmily pointed out that we each matched our dogs. I do not know why Edsel looks so melancholy in photos so often. I promise you he is a happy dog in real life. And look at Finn! Who is making Chatmily get a DNA test on Finn? Who is certain Finn is Boston Terrier and, you know, something?

Her husband, Mr. Chatting, thinks he's Boston Terrier/tuxedo tabby cat. I am thinking Mr. Chat is touched in the head. Although that dog DOES have a Francis look about him. Heaven help that family…

On the ride home, I looked over and Edsel was sleeping sitting up. I think he had a successful play date.

Thanks for letting us come over, Chatting family! Although this was probably our last date, since I just insinuated you put your kid in a dog crate and that Mr. Chatting is nuts. Way to make friends and influence people!

The End (Finn)

P.S. You know what I am? Annoying. I wanted to mention that this week we do not have comment of the week but rather blog of the week. Because what Mrs. Oh did with Hulk's photo had to get a special mention.

Okay, really the end. (Finn)


Beauty products · June's stupid life

Conspicuous Consumer

I have so many things to tell you about what I have bought lately.

Before I begin, though, can you tell me why?

Why would Marvin have left one lasagna noodle in the package? One. He left one. Did he think perhaps later I'd like a teeny-tiny meal? That maybe I'd invite Thumbelina over for a pasta dinner?

Anyway, Edsel's DNA test arrived. Because I did buy a DNA test. Marvin doesn't believe me when I tell him he's the father. Sure, he doesn't have large ears and white fur, but I SWEAR there's been no one else!

You get two cheek swabs and you swab a little pinch between his cheek and gum, and mail it back. In three agonizing weeks while I imagine they tell me he's a wolf hybrid/Pekingese combination, they email me with the stunning results.

Here's me, looking 642, with my cardigan and my reading glasses and my gray roots, reading about the DNA test. Also Tallulah was obSESSed with the test, and I kept worrying she'd get her saliva on it and they'd tell me I had another Pit Bull/Beagle/Tibetan spaniel.

I get my roots done tomorrow, in case you were worried sick.

In other news, remember how I said that CERTAIN COSMETICS STORE has made it up to me by calling and apologizing and also sending me a nice gift card?

If you are a woman or a drag queen, you have not lived until you have used the Smashbox primer and foundation. You need both. They work together. You will look flawless. Your skin will look like Nicole Kidman's without the bizarre injections.

Anyway, I already have the primer, but am out of the foundation, and will be using my gift card this weekend to get said foundation. Am standing here beside self. Both selves look flawless.

I love makeup. When I was a kid, I spent every Friday night at my grandmother's house, and I have no idea whose plan that was. Did my mother foist me off and my grandmother was all, "$@&#" or did she want me there? Who knows?

Anyway she had to do little to amuse me, because she had this vanity in her room that was filled was cosmetics, most of which were not even hers. They belonged to various daughters and daughters-in-law who had lived there. All she needed was her Revlon Real Red and her Emeraude and she was set to go.

But oh, I spent hours in that room, putting ginger-colored lip gloss on, and green eye shadow, and coral blush, till I looked like Jon-Benet Ramsey. Then I'd parade into the living room and she'd always tell me I looked beautiful, which I'm sure I did not because green and ginger and coral are not my colors. She was good at the flattery, Gramma was.

So that is why I get so thrilled every September when Allure magazine's Best of Beauty comes out. For months, their beauty editors (and why isn't that my job?) sample every product out there, then narrow it down and tell you what's the best lipstick this year, and what's the best eye shadow, and so on.

I devour that issue like it has the secret to happiness. Because it does.

Can you smell what the Roc is dewrinkling?

This year, they tell me that Roc night cream will de-age me until I look like a fetus. There is actually an outline of my body crashing through my living room to get to the store to purchase this product. I have used it for a month and as you can see from my old-lady photo at the top, it has not worked yet.

But I am KEEPING THE FAITH! They say it takes awhile. If you start seeing my photo on this blog and you wonder, "Who is that adolecent claiming to be June?" you will know the Roc has done its miracle.

I think that's all I have to tell you about my purchases for now. I will have more room left on my CERTAIN COSMETICS COMPANY card after the foundation purchase, and don't you fret, I will let you know what else I get.

Do you think they sell cat DNA kits there?

June's stupid life · Marvin

Project Save This Marriage–Goals.

Some of us in this house are getting along like peas and carrots.

You know, generally.

I wish you understood how much TIME these two devote to the playing. In the house, out of the house, in the bed at 1 a.m., it doesn't matter.

They do this ludicrously wide opening of the mouth thing, along with devil noises. "Rrrrowwwgrrr." "Rowrowrowrowrrrr." Edsel has learned how to do it, finally, whereas before he just opened his fool mouth and no noise came out. Now his roorwrs are way scarier-sounding than Talu's. He sounds like a Rottweiller, if you want to know the truth. He will probably get big and his brain will snap and he'll eat us all.

Marvin and I were watching them do this the other day, and he said, "We should walk into therapy next time and just totally do that the whole time. Open our mouths at each other and make those noises."

Just the thought of that sent me into a fit of giggles every time I pictured it. The poor therapist. "What I hear you saying is 'Rorrwr, rowrrrr…'

"How does it make you feel when Marvin shows his teefs, June?"

Anyway. One of the things we are supposed to do, per our beleaguered therapist, is set personal goals for ourselves. We had to set goals for our marriage (goal #1, have one), but now we have to have personal plans as well.

On the way home, I said to Marvin, "I don't have any personal goals. Do you? All I ever do is concentrate on not dying of a disease. Is that a goal?"

Marvin said that wasn't a goal, and that he didn't have one either, and then we remembered I have always wanted to be a go-go dancer, but is that even a possible dream? I know I also want to be a drag queen, but again, impossible?

So, does anyone have any ideas? What personal goals can I set for my own self? Perhaps your suggestions will inspire me.

Also, does anyone have a go-go cage?

June's stupid life · Pieces of Wisdom

Pieces of Wisdom Wednesday: Humiliate Hulk Edition

I think this might be our most popular Pieces of [Wardrobe] Wisdom yet. Yesterday I put poor Faithful Reader Hulk on my blog so you all could pick apart his wardrobe. Wisdomly-y. As I type this, there are way over 100 comments telling him to do this and that. I have no idea how Ima condense all this fashion info.

Let's start with another look at Hulk, shall we?

Here is Hulk.

Here is Hulk in high school, when I met him. Heeeeeee…

If you want to see all the wardrobial action Hulk showed us, look at yesterday's post.

Most important, a lot of the womens said Hulk was cute, which I am sure delighted him to no end. And probably prompted not a few, "How YOU doin'?" emails from the Hulkster himself to said womens.

Also, we pretty much univerally took issue with his choice of jeans. We told him he needs to get dark jeans, not fadey ones, a tip Marvin could also use, and which I have told him 204840 times.

Levi's Men's 505 Straight Fit Jean

I Googled Levi's men's dark jeans and got this image off Amazon. They also had men's skinny jeans, and the thought of Hulk parading around in men's skinny jeans set me off on a giggle fest the likes of which the world has never seen. Anyway, this is the shade we are talking, Hulk. If you are all up in the skinny jeans, have at it. I also think you left your tu-tu here last week.

While we are concentrating on Hulk's lower half (how YOU doin'?), we all seemed to take issue with his shoes. I should offer the caveat that a few "deep" women commented with the whole, "Let Hulk just be himself. There is nothing wrong with the way he dresses. He is who he is."

We are ignoring y'all all. Did you say something, deep womens? Because I think you're late for your Emo-Skills-Building class.

Anyway, back to his dreadful shoes.

He showed us many gym shoes, and then when we poked fun at him for that, he also let us know he had "semi-formal Sketchers" for work, a term not just one commentor said was an oxymoron. One faithful reader sent a photo of these shoes as a suggestion:


Another sent these:

Clarks Un.seal

And Faithful Reader and Friend in Real Life (I need a shorter title for this. FR&FIRL. Furinfurl. That makes sense.) Carpool Queen suggested these:

But then another reader emailed me anonymously and said, "Why is everyone suggesting all those mental patient shoes for Hulk?" which liked to kill me.

Now as for me, I like men in shoes like these:

I like the whole scruffy boot thing. Also, this happens to be my personal boyfriend Jude Law in this picture and I note he is pulling off the skinny jeans. So to speak.

Another definite note to Hulk was NO HORIZONTAL STRIPES and NO HAWAIIAN SHIRTS. He had both going on and there was hardly one person who said hells yeah to that. Because who says, "Hells yeah" in real life?

There was some argument over Hulk's manymanymanymany sports-related clothes and hats. Some said ditch them altogether and some said you may keep them, but ONLY wear them to a sports bar. For a sports event. With other sporty people about you. Then, sadly, Hulk told us that one of his winter jackets was also a (sit down) (shut the front door) SPORTS-THEMED jacket, and everyone said, "Oh, hell no."

Everyone agreed he needs a pea coat.

See what I did? I inserted the fruitiest-looking picture of a man wearing a pea coat that I could find. This looks like a guy Hulk and I went to school with. A guy who was in swing choir and who wore sweaters tied around his neck. I am all for loving the gay man, but Hulk wants him some ladies.

Pea coat_ 3 jpg Okay, now this man is hot. In a "Where's my leader dog?" kind of a way. This is what we mean when we say pea coat, Hulk. Only I think all of us meant a navy blue or otherwise dark one.

Finally, we had a lot of people telling Hulk to shave his head completely. And some people wanted him in new glasses. There was no stone left unturned on poor Hulk Tuesday. Someone even hoped he was wearing boxer briefs.

All in all, we agreed that Hulk was an excellent sport to let us nag him and pick him apart and criticize him and poke fun at his jaunty wreath on his fireplace and basically remind him why he is single after all.

Hulk, to thank you for participating in this ridiculous endeavor, I am sending you a lovely gift (as if all this fashion advice weren't gift enough):

Yes! A pair of emergency underpants! Because if you take our advice, you may never make it home again, so pulling-you-into-their-homes will women be, and you can just slip these on and go back to work the next morning!

You're welcome.

P.S. I almost forgot. My Furnful or whatever I said I was gonna call real-life friends/readers Laurie made these pictures of Hulk, cleverly improving his look through the miracle of photoshop.

I am digging the Cosby sweater. With the clothes and the shoes and the Jello Pudding. How YOU doin', Jello Pudding?

June's stupid life · Pieces of Wisdom

Pieces of Wisdom; Disrobe Hulk.

It's Tuesday, which means Tallulah is at day care, and also it is Pieces of Wisdom day. This week we are having an extra-special event, in which we all Queer Eye my pal Hulk. Even if we are straight women.

Hulk and I went to high school together. We were on newspaper staff–he was sports editor, I think, and I was features editor. Which makes perfect sense, because Hulk is obsessed with sports, which you will soon see, and I was obsessed with…features. Okay, perhaps it doesn't make PERFECT sense. Shut up.

At any rate, after high school we only saw each other once, in our early 20s, when we ran into each other and were having a great time until my ex-boyfriend showed up with another girl. This resulted in me throwing my purse across the room at them, and screaming and crying, and Hulk standing there helplessly because eight seconds earlier I had been a perfectly fine sane person. I tore off into the night in a dramatic huff, which is how I tore off everywhere when I was in my 20s, and I always felt bad that I did that to Hulk.

Two years ago we were reunited on Facebook, and I immediately apologized to him for my behavior in 1988.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. All that time I had felt horrid and he had no recollection.

"Did I at least try to sleep with you?" he wondered.

Anyway. Shockingly, Hulk is single, and is a very regular commentor on this blog. I mean, I do not know how often he poops, although I'm sure he would tell us. I mean he comments all the time. And all the womenses on here just love him. So someone or other came up with the idea that maybe Hulk needs wardrobe help, because he mentioned that he did not know those stupid Tom Sawyer jean shorts were unfashionable. This is why we are having a Critique Hulk's Wardrobe-stat!-Pieces of Wisdom day.

So take a gander at his pictures, write in your suggestions for what he should be wearing (or if you like what he has on and you would totally tap that, let us know that, too), and include links to clothes you like, if you want to go that far.

Let's begin, shall we? Because Edsel is eating the floor and I have to get out of this room and find him another hobby. Did I mention Talu is at day care?

Here are Hulk's hats. I am abstaining from comment. I am just the messenger.

Hulk's shoes. Trying very hard not to comment.

Hulk's "party" shirts. I would like to mention he lives in Michigan, not Tahiti.

Shirts he wears to work.

Oh dear God in heaven, let me abstain from comment.

MMrrfff, mrrfft! Slapping hand over mouth. Trying not to say, "Howwwwwww does he have so many Indians shirts?"

"I'm Hulk. Do not mess with my fine wardrobe.You will not like me when I'm angry."

"Poker? I don't even know her!"

Here is what Hulk wears to church, and I apologize, Hulk, that I titled this one "Hulk worships, God giggles." I really don't think this ensemble is that bad. I like how you live in a studio apartment with a nice fireplace.

Okay, my floor has been eaten. Must go. Discuss.


June's stupid life · Times I Amused My Own Self · Travel

I went to the store…

Really, I will tell you all about my trip. Eventually.

The most important thing is that in our 20-million-hour car ride home, Marvin and I played "I went to the store" and here are the ludicrous things we got.

(Did you ever play this in the car? You list something you got at the store that starts with "a," then the next person has to remember what you got that starts with "a" and says what they got that starts with "b," then it's your turn again and you have to remember the "a" thing and the "b" thing and pick something that starts with "c" and so forth until you want to kill yourself.)

I went to the store and I got:

An ailment

Barry Gibb


Dick cream


Fiddle Faddle





Krups coffee maker

Loose bowels


Needle-nose pliers



Quagmire (how is that even a thing you can get at the store?)



Tetly Tea





Yasmine Bleeth

Zoology degree

What we are? Mature. But if you had spent FORTY-SEVEN YEARS in the car in what was supposed to be a three hour tour or whatever, you'd play "I went to the store" too. And do you know we even got off ONE congested freeway and went on another, going 20 miles out of our way and adding an hour to the trip, and then THAT freeway was totally backed up.

What I needed at the store was a good shot of heroin. Was what I needed.

Anyway, here's one photo from our trip and then I have to go.

It's an ad for some anti-migraine med from, you know, 1702 or whenever. I'm sure it worked beautifully. Also? I have NEVER.BEEN.THIS.FAT. in my life. I'm sure that brie sandwich I had just finished before this photo was taken did a lot to help that sitceeashun.

How much do you like me for saying siteeashun?

Okay, going to work. I promise I will tell you all about my trip, and what more could you want than to hear about someone else's vacation?

June's stupid life · Travel

Sans June

I do not know how I can leave all this cuteness and that need to sweep the floor, there, but Marvin and I are going on a short vacation. You know, as part of Project Save This Marriage.

We will be back Sunday night, and yes someone is coming to take care of the animals. Yeesh. Maybe I should have just let them fight it out and come home to bones and a very satisfied Francis.

See you Sunday! Go read March for book club in my absence.

June's stupid life · Pieces of Wisdom

Pieces of Wisdom Wednesday. Yes, I know it’s Thursday. Live a little.

Fortunately, I got home at a decent hour Wednesday night and was able to give you your results from this week's Pieces of Wisdom question. Unfortunately, everything else went wrong.

Well. Not everything. The Manson family didn't bust in and write "Piggy" on my wall or anything, but it was a flusterating evening, as Marvin's ex-coworker used to say. Flusterating, dawg.

First of all, I have had my camera battery plugged in for DAYS, but when I put it in the camera it says, "Change Battery Pack." I never. And stop calling me Pack.

I plugged it back in the wall, and why? If it didn't work last time, why do I think it'll work this time? What a maroon. What an embezzle.

So I had to resort to using my iPone, which would be fine but it's nighttime and so everything came out blurry. Also, I decided to pose the animals, because I am a nature photographer, and what I want to know is how photographers fly out to Africa and get meerkats being all cute or a pelican tossing back a fish when I can't even get my fairly domesticated dogs to sit still with an erase board.

Is what I wonder.


This week's Pieces of Wisdom Q was, How much sleep do you get a night? Sixty-two of you actually answered, and 121 of you commented in total. What does that tell you? It tells you my commenters do go on.

Near! Far! WherEVer you are! I know that my commenters go ONNNNNN!

I am totally banging my chest like what's-her-name right now. What's her name? Celine Dijon or whatever.

So, I added up how many people out of the 62 said, "I sleep eight hours a night" and how many said, "I sleep six hours a night" and so forth. Then I realized I had to do…something…you know, mathematical, to get a percentage.

"Muffin," I asked Marvin, "how do I find out what the percent would be if 22 people out of 62 said they sleep eight hours?"

"Well," said Muffvin, "you add it up."

"Add what up?"

"The numbers."

"You have no idea how to find the percent, do you?" I asked. Marvin pointed out he is not a math teacher.

Okay, it is pathetic that neither of us could do this basic math. I had to call my STEPFATHER, who is a MEDICAL DOCTOR, to tell me. And then as soon as he did (you divide the smaller number by the larger number), I was all, "Oh, yeah."

Run, Forrest, run.

Oh, but before I tell you the results, and I know you are squealing and on the edge of your seat, over there, and also calling my university to have my degree revoked, my close personal friend and Faithful Reader Sleeping Beauty wrote in to tell me how SHE gets to sleep.

She what she did, there? She acted like my blog puts her to sleep. OH! With the hilarity that is Sleeping Beauty. Wooo! Let me wipe my eyeballses.

So, fortunately, the majority of you sleep eight hours. In fact, THIRTY-FIVE PERCENT of you do. I know this because who DOESN'T know how to get percentages? Geez.

Eager helper and sleeper of eight hours (every eight hours) himself Francis helped me out with this shot. Look at the love in his face. That's adoration. That's a pet who would give his life for me.

Yeah. See? Blurry. Because it's dark. Crap. If you look next to the piano, there is my stupid camera battery back in the wall. DOING ME NO GOOD. Also in the foreground in my Glide floss, one of 2034845204 Glide flosses hanging around the house, because I floss obsessively. I should have been named Flossie.

Anyway, Edsel and I want you to know that 19% of you sleep about seven hours a night. And you know that scared timid look he gets? Only in photos, friends. In real life he is bold and yappy. That chihuahua coming out. Please, God, help me.

Now, what is most disturbing is that a whopping (and how much do you like the word "whopping"? What a terrible word) 34% of you sleep SIX HOURS OR LESS each night. That's dreadful! Stop reading my blog and go lie down.

I tried to take a picture of Winston, who was SLEEPING SO NICELY in the dog bed, and I thought that'd be cute, and both dogs BOUNDED in there and woke him up. So I shooed their punk arses out and tried again, accidentally taking a movie instead of a photo.

Hate. Then I took a picture.

Mmm! Useful!

Similarly useful. Do you like my feet-as-erase-board-holder? Classy.

Finally, look who was good. Miss Wrinkly Head. How come on her wrinkles are cute?

I have no idea where the bedspread is. Oh, wait, yes I do. It's being laundered. And that pillow? Not Edsel's fault. Tallulah chewed the edge off that pillow years ago. You never see these household flaws on The Nester's blog, do you?

Wait. Is that the CLEAN, FOLDED bedspread behind Talu, there, next to chewy pillow? Well, why the hell isn't it just BACK ON THE BED? Did I mention I hate everything today?

At any rate, there were a few outliers. Eight percent of you slept nine hours, and three percent (hello, mom) slept 10 hours. Then some of you did this, "Well, I used to sleep nine but now sometimes it's six unless the baby wakes me then it's two" kind of thing that I didn't know what the Sam Holy Bat Hill to write down.

As per usual, thank you for participating in Pieces of Wisdom Wednesday. That is being held on Thursday today. Because Flossie Pack decided to.


June's stupid life · Times I Amused My Own Self

Ain’t no other man. Except when there is.

Yer old pal June worked until 10:45 last night, and has to be at work a half-hour early today. Because sometimes life is full of regrets that way. This means your old pal June did not have time to sift through your highly scientific Pieces of Wisdom answers today. I apologize. We are going to have to have Pieces of Wisdom Thursday instead.

Because I must blow out of here, which may make you wonder just what kind of job I have–bah!–I thought I could lead you in a deep discussion you can have amongst your own selves. Your own personal selves. "I was thinking to myself…"

I love it when people say that.

Anyway, what is more shocking: the breakup of Courtney Cox and David Arquette, or Christina Aguilerra or Aquafina or Agottalottamakeup or however you spell it, and that weaselly little man she married?


June's stupid life · Pieces of Wisdom

Pieces of the Wisdom, there.

I am typing you with a Henry on my lap.

Yes, I AM still wearing Marvin's cowboy robe. Sue me.

Do you know what I love? Henry's one white tip on his kitty ear.

Anyway, it is Pieces of Widdom, and who adores herself for saying "Widdom," and today's question was inspired by cranky Marvin. Last night we were just settling down for a short autumn's nap.

"Muffin?" I asked. I call him Muffin. He will be delighted that you know this.

And here is the thing. Old Muffin, there, is never reachable the first time you address him. Whether you call him on the phone, get locked out and knock on the door, address him in another room, are trapped under something heavy, whatever. I think it's a control thing, or he's deaf as a doornail, but whatever it is, he will NEVER respond on your first try.

So you will be shocked to hear that he did not answer my, "Muffin."

"Muffinmuffinmuffinmuffinmuffinmuffin!" I said then. I mean, what choice did I have? I won't be IGNORED, Dan.

"Whaaat?" he groused.

"What should I ask for my Pieces of Wisdom question tomorrow?" I mean, don't you think he probably felt bad then, when he heard how important my query was?

"Why don't you ask people how much sleep they get?" he asked.


"Because I'm not getting any, with your constant yammering, over there."

What a grump.

So, how much sleep do you get a night? I get eight hours. Because I am a good citizen that way. Except last night Edsel had to pee at 3:20 a.m. and then I couldn't fall back asleep, and now I am a trifle groggy.

I had to take this picture with my iPone, because I have a Henry on my lap, but is he looking…bigger? When we got him, he was the exact size of Winston, and today I noticed he is distinctly taller than poor Win. The way this picture is blurry, it's like I captured Bigfoot on film or something. Bigpup.

Okay, tell all. And tomorrow I will report our results with my ERASE BOARD, whoever it is who gets upset when I don't use the erase board. Is that Juice? I forget. Someone gets ants in her pantaloons over it.

Someone LOSES SLEEP over it. Bah!

(Oh! And next week, we will have a Very Special Pieces of Wisdom, where we dissect Hulk's wardrobe. Hulk, is it okay if we have a Very Special POW where we dissect your wardrobe? You have to take a bunch of pictures of your clothes. And be sure to send me those huge photos like you like to send. Thanks.)