Current Affairs · June's stupid life

June 2 Love You

Somebody broke into my work email and sent all sorts of girl-on-girl action emails to my old bosses and such.

Nice. I am certain my conservative female choirmember ex-boss has always wanted to see Lez2LoveYou2, and now it has been added to her repertoire.

Can it live up to the original, is what all the critics are asking.

Also, I just went to the mailbox and had a check from my dad (thanks, dad) (I am 45 and getting checks from my dad), a freelance check, and a gift from one of my oldest friends. Don't you love good mail days?

She sent me a cookbook on how to eat clean, which I have been wanting, and also some soup recipes because of my whole can't-eat-soup-ack-MSG thing. I am a pain in the ass.

Speaking of ass, I am in love with Pippa, I have decided. I mean, I still love Kate more than anything on planet Earth, don't get me wrong, but Pippa rocked it yesterday, didn't she? Both that bridesmaid's dress and then the emerald evening reception dress. Pippa-middleton-2-300
Was she always hot? Did she just get hot for the wedding? Is Kate mad that Pippa stole the show? Do you think Pippa might want to star with me in Lez2LoveYou3?

She is rockin'. Crush on the Pippa. Do you think Harry did the walk of shame back to his room at the Marriott from Pippa's room this morning? Did they exchange embarrassed glances at the buffet room this a.m.?

I have to go. My new job starts in two days and I have done nothing but work on this book and watch this wedding and the house is a mess and I own approximately two items that are work-appropriate, so I must finish this stupid stupid stupid statistics textbook and head to the store to pick up worky clothes. And shoes. At my last job you could wear whatever you wanted so I bought 78 pair of silver flip-flops.

Not so much at this job.

Tomorrow I have an announcement to make this is kind of exciting. I want to wait one more day to make sure it is still going okay before I tell the world. I cannot keep it to myself any longer.

Comment of the week goes to a conversation between Amish Annie and that always-chipper Siren.


June Arthur Phillip Louweeee. Of Cambridge. Of the loving-Pippas Phillip Louwees of Cambridge.

Current Affairs · June's stupid life · Television

Goin’ to the chapel. Which is 8593055 miles long.

Oh, isn't this the best day ever?!

When my alarm went off at 4:50, Tallulah was all, "You have got to be joking." She lifted her head off the pillow, rolled her eyes at me, and went back to bed. Edsel followed me because he has the energy of 10 hummingbirds.

Anyway, I got on my accouterments for Peg's house:

Which along with my pajamas included my QVC Kate Middleton engagement ring and my wedding veil.

And let me tell you something. Walking over to Peg's in this ensemble at 5 a.m. was one thing. Walking back home at 9:00? People should really watch the road more.

Peg was all proud to be an American with her pajams.

And she had quite the spread, so to speak, and I know these pictures are awful but dude, it was THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, and this was with my PHONE. At any rate, there were scones, and tea, and I made her make coffee which she detested me for, and there was bacon and strawberries and whipped cream.

But she had a spot on the couch all set for me.

And I do not know why I had a different blanket on each leg. IT WAS THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT! Did I mention that?


Here are my thoughts:

I love Prince Harry. I love how he turned around to look at Kate, and William was all being a rule-follower, and waiting until he was supposed to look at her, but Harry was all, screw that. He is so hot, Harry.

As is Pippa. Hello. Who could pull off that dress? That is the meanest bridesmaids dress in the history of time. And yet? She was stunning.

Queen Elizabeth was a marshmallow Peep. Could no one tell her that was not a good shade of yellow? And could she CRACK a smile when everyone is singing that they wish God would save her? I mean, it's kind of a nice wish. Cheer up, sister. You're wearing sunny yellow. Reflect it.

I hate to admit Camilla's dress was pretty.

I thought he would never get that ring on her finger.

Was the reverend or priest or whatever you call Anglican God guys lisping, or was it my scone talking? He was making me think of the guy in Princess Bride. "Wuv, twue wuv."

Okay, and best of all? Sarah Ferguson was not invited, so she said, okay. Let me show you what Ima put my daughters in, then. I do not know if it was Eugenie or Farfernugel, whatever the other one is named, but the one in beige looked like Cindy Lou Who.

I have to go, because I have to WORK. On my DAY. I KNOW! I should totally be at Harry's throwdown later today.

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

Come back tomorrow for wedding talk

In an effort to avoid doing my statistics textbook proofreading, which by the way I have already spent more than FIFTY HOURS on already, I finally fixed the webcam:

Except the part where I haven't figured out how to make the pictures not Lilliputian.

Anyway, two years of old web photos came rushing at me in email, and this one makes me want to kill myself:

Oh, my Hen. With his orange superior glare. This was probably that period from October to May when he refused to grow from catten size, remember?

At any rate, I was really coming over here to tell you that after the wedding tomorrow I will come back from Peg's to give my very-important opinion on everything royal. I am wearing my pajamas, my wedding veil, my QVC sapphire, and my stunning 5 a.m. personality over to Peg's.

My friend Dot asked, "Is Peg making brunch?" but I pointed out to her that you really can't call it "brunch" at 5 a.m. Even the Amish do not brunch at 5:00.

Okay, two posts in one day. I am annoying.


Friends · I am berserk · June's stupid life

My Little Chickadee

Yesterday the phone rang in Massachusetts.

"Hello?" said my Pal from MA, who is the more normal of the two of us. Which, let's face it, is not that ringing of an endorsement of her normalness.

"Can you hear me?" I whispered.

"Yes," said Pal wearily. We have been friends since we were toddlers.

Pal[Then] (Why I always gotta have the stupid hair?)

Queen [Now.] (Why Pal always gotta have a crown? Actually that was my crown. I made her put it on.)

"There are BIRDS building a NEST in that BIRD HOUSE I bought for seven dollars!" I hissed.

"Oh, that IS exciting," Pal said. She is as ludicrous as me about animal things. I think it's because we spent every second of our formative years together.

"I hung the stupid thing right outside the living room window and I never thought anyone would use it because it was too close to people. But THERE THEY ARE! This is the best week EVER! The wedding, a bird's nest!"

At this point my whisper was kind of a scrape-y scream. Which I'm certain was pleasant to listen to.

"What kind of birds?" asked Pal, who was a whale researcher for 18 years and knows about nature-y things.

"Well, they have black heads, then white like mullets on the side, and black bow ties–"

"Chickadees," she said matter-of-factly.

And you know she was right? I researched it on Google, when I was supposed to be proofreading statistics, and it turns out Chickadees form about four potential nests, then decide on their final nesting place. I have named the mom and the dad, who have been flying back and forth to my little birdhouse like banshees, Chick Korea (dad) and Chick-Fil-A.

Korea Chick Korea, who I photographed from my couch, where I was glued for 97 hours yesterday, resulting in me having to proofread till 1 a.m. Because I have priorities.

Who wants to win the contest so bad? Oh, I want them to pick my nest. Edsel tore up yet another pillow, so I had some stuffing, and I oh-so-casually threw some out there yesterday in case they wanted to use it for their nest. I refilled the bird seed in the front yard feeder. I am trying to think of inviting music to play out the open window, where I continue to hiss into the phone whenever anyone calls.

"You know you can't go to your new job next week now," Pal told me.

"That's exactly what I was thinking!" I breathed. "I'm sure they'll understand. Oh, I could not be more excited if Barry Gibb stuck his head out that house hole."

"Maybe one of the babies will look like Barry Gibb," Pal offered. "He'll have on a white outfit, and a little beard."

"He'll tweet in British!" I screamed in a whisper.

So that is what is going on over here. If I could climb right in that bird house, I would. If I could invent some way to see in there, I would also do that. Chickadees usually lay six eggs, so if they pick my house (pick me! pick me! ohhhhhh, pick MEEEEEE!) I have to come up with six names for the babies. Does anyone remember back in 2007 when I had a bird's nest on my back porch in LA? At least I could SEE in that nest. This one has to remain a mystery.

Okay. Who's gonna call in sick for me my first week of work?

June's stupid life · My pets

FfRan hAtE yoU aLL yOu (a guest post by Francis)

Yesturday wake up. Normal day. Stretsh claws to see they still there. Yes. shiney.

Jump up to bowl. Where fud? Where fud? Where fud? Where fud? Where wawter? Where fud? Wawter? Fud? Fud? Fud? Fud?

Big hair come in. Stop mowin fran. She say. Vet coming and you cant have fud.

Where fud? Where fud? Where fud? Where fud?

Big hair pik fran up and take to other room. Fran never go in there. Never fud in there. White cold theenz in there and cold floor. Not innersting. Then another lady with small hair come in. Her dress white. Big hair and white coat talk to fran like fran crazy WHICH HE NOttT.

Why fran sleepy?


Wake up. Normal d–hey. Not in angry chair. Stretsh claws to see they still–hay!

WHERE fRAn CLAWS?! where CLAws?!

Big hair pik me up. Take me to angry chair. Feel dizzy. What going on? Where fRan fud? Where fud? Wear fud? Fud? Fud? Fud? Fud?

You can have fuud in while, Big Hair say. She looking at square thing she always looking at and clicking on. Fran go in there. Fud? Fud? Fu–THAT FRAN?

when i graduate?! Whatt my dagree in?

not even like baseball! what we looking at?

Why Big Hair laffing?

knoNW YoU dID sOmeTHinG TO fraN! not lyke jawnty sayler hat!


If kill Big Hair, who feed fran? Maybe just mame. eet one leg.

stoopid Big Hair.

Gardening · Health · June's stupid life · My pets

Ferrous Sulfate’s Day Off

I decided what made me ill yesterday was taking my two iron pills way too close together on Sunday. Since I was all busy getting ready and visiting God and everything, I forgot to take it till late afternoon, then I took the other one before bed, and my stomach was all, "WHAAAT? I'm coming up there to talk to you."

I called my doctor, the one who didn't quit (did I tell you the doctor who did my surgery quit? That is, like, doctor number 40,000 now) to ask if I could start taking one effing iron pill a day now and she said yes. Mostly because I have driven her to the brink like every other doctor.

So yesterday I was too afraid to even take that pill, and now I have probably depleted my body of iron and am back to being ironless again.


…what? Oh, my blog. Right.

See what I did there? I fell asleep. That was anemia humor.

Anyway I am mostly better although my stomach is still a little, "You better be good to me." Tina Turner is in there. With her spike heels.

I do not understand you people who can just barf and go on with your day. It is so TRAUMATIC. I mean, maybe it is for me because I haven't done it since 1982. And my record STLL HOLDS. But man.

In other less nauseating news, the dogs and I had some drama the other night.

Now that they have their ridiculous harnesses, which kind of help, I have their leashes all twisted up so it's like one leash for me to hold. I was walking them near the perfect-lawn guy's house, and right next door to him is this kind of shady house. They always have yukky cars in the driveway, and the house needs painted, and I always figure perfect-lawn guy is appalled that he lives next door to this Herman Munster home.

So we're walking past that unkempt house when all of a sudden a HUGE PIT BULL comes CHARGING out of the screen door, there.

Now, I say "huge pit bull" without being prejudiced, as my own Tallulah is part Pit. I am not trying to say, "You all know this dog is evil in its bones because it's a Pit." Although Tallulah is pretty evil in her bones. Basically any dog charging out the screen door would be disturbing, particularly a huge one. And this one was growling.

So without thinking I dropped the leash. Because Tallulah is 800 times nicer when she's not on the leash. If she doesn't have me to worry about me, she is not so rabid. Then I did what any responsible dog owner would do.

I covered my eyes.

"DANG IT, Heather! The dog is out! Nugget! Git in here!"

The least-sophisticated person you have ever seen in your life came running out of that house.

I peeked through my hands to see the anti-Coco Chanel, and Tallulah and the Pit Bull were sniffing each other's buttal regions. Edsel was standing there like a statue. He looked horrified. If he had been able to cover his eyes he would have done so, as well.

"NUGGET! CUT IT OUT!" cried Zelda Fitzgerald, as she approached her dog. It was at that point that the two dogs started fighting, and I really don't know who started it, so stunned and scared and fashion appalled was I by the whole scenario.

Oh, it was dreadful. Tallulah and Mr. Nugget Pit, of the Embroidered Mickey Mouse Sweatshirt Nugget Pits, there, did that thing where they made a tight circle and said, "ROWR ROWR ROWR" and showed their teeth, and poor Edsel, who was connected to the whole thing by a wound leash, was still standing there with his ears down going, "holy shyte. do anyone see Edsel?"

That woman may not have been Heidi Klum, but she certainly was brave. She got right down in the whole thing and PULLED THE DOGS APART.

"GIT YER DOGS! GIT.YER.DOGS!" she yelled at me. Now, I understand I had been standing there with my hands over my eyes pretty much the entire time and I was as useless as Edsel, but geez. Nice neighborly manners. It was HER mean dog who stampeded out there.

I stepped on the leash and gathered it up and explained about the leash aggression thing, and she was hugging her mean cruel red-eyed vicious snarling dog and said, "I unnerstaynd."

Without another word, I walked on, and it was a block before the shock wore off and I started shaking. I finally stopped and checked Tallulah for any injury. She wasn't remotely upset and she didn't even have any dog spit on her, so it must have been one of those things where they made all kinds of noise and showed possessed-by-demons faces but did not actually bite each other. Either that or she was the total victor in that round.

I kind of hope so.

Edsel is seeking therapy for his PTSD and is taking valium for the next week. Good gravy, he is a wimp.

Edsers "we all just get 'long?"

Before I go, I wonder if anyone can tell me what the teensy green bugs are on my climbing roses, and what I can do to gleefully murder them. Perhaps Nugget could come over them and chaw them with his flea teeth. Perhaps Nugget's mom could show the bugs one of her outfits and they would die of shock.

Suggestions, please.

I am berserk · June's stupid life

Edsel’s fur has risen today

Laura and I went to church today, and yes I DO realize she just picked me up at PetSmart a few weeks ago and now here we are spending major holidays together already.

We went to Mosaic Church, which is a church specifically aimed at getting people of all colors to come. Hence the name. They are not trying to get people made out of tile.


Anyway, it did indeed live up to its name and was pretty cool. There were dark people, pale people, in-between people, and so forth, and we sang songs in English and some other languages, which fortunately were put up phonetically on a big screen, and for all I know I was singing, "June is a giant tramp" but I am doubting it because it was, you know, church.

Unless that is a beloved hymn no one told me about. "When I die, I really want them to play June is a Giant Tramp. Will you be sure and have them play that for me?"

At any rate, when Laura first came to get me, Edsel did his usual solemn, well-behaved hello, which involved leaping 20 feet off the floor and attempting to mate with her, because Edsel is a Giant Tramp.

By the time we got in her car, we were both covered in dog fur, and I'd like to point out for the record that I brush this dog with a big wire brush every day, and 87 pounds of fur comes off. He loves being brushed. He gets a faraway, dreamy look when I do it.

DreamExhibit A

Nevertheless, he is Shedsel.

So when we got in her car, I spent the entire drive picking blond wispy dog fur off my pants, and I was also looking sexy because a few days ago I decided I should be the kind of person who wears high heels all the time. This was not a good idea.

HelloblisterExhibit B

I know I am the only person in the world who gets blisters on TOP of her foot from wearing high heels. Perhaps I should stop wearing the heel part up there. You think?

At any rate, with the fur and the mature band-aid, by the time old Carrie Bradshaw here walked into that church, God was like,

"Yeah. I think I like it better when you stay home."

Do you like my God font?

Anyway, they played good music at this church, and they had us stand up and clap, and there was this ADORABLE old lady in front of us who danced and sang and swayed around and you just wanted to put her in your purse and bring her home like extra biscuits, and I decided to be happy like her, so I clapped…

…and a giant piece of Edsel fur went sailing out of my hand and up to the sky.

Nice. You can't take me anywhere. I really am like PigPen. Where is my horizontal shirt?

My theory is God kind of looks at me and claps his hand to his cheek like Jack Benny, and thinks, Oh, dear. I mean, he must wonder what he was thinking when he got around to the likes of me. You know?

At any rate, for those of you who celebrate Easter, have a happy one, and enjoy your ham, and don't feel bad about the movie Babe or anything. Because Laura and I didn't just stop off at Biscuitville and eat us some Babes and eggs ourselves. Nosir.

Your giant trampy pal,


Faithful Readers · Friends · Giveaway · June's stupid life

Giving and mostly getting

I want you all to dry your tears and carry on like adults, but Juice has won the inflatable toast. Last night before I went to bed, I ran the random number generator to see who'd win at that time? And it was Juice. Then today, when I had the official number of comments? Juice won again.

God has spoken, y'all. Plus, what goes better than toast and Juice?

And speaking of gifts and food, people have been feeding me lately.

Snouty Not that I have taken to eating dogs. And do you know what I like about this dog? Is her short, stumpy nose part. What nose? I cannot smell you.

A few weeks ago, I was heading into PetSmart, as I do 900 million times a week, and a faithful reader spotted me. She told me she knew we'd see each other one day, as she similarly goes to that PetSmart 900 million times a week, so there are the odds right there. Anyway, if you recall–as I mentioned this when it happened–I found out she had greyhounds and totally invited myself to her house, and Thursday is when I eventually wedged myself in the door and made her feed me lunch.

AlsosnoutySnout? I gots no snout. What you mean? I a Pug.

So I met her short, fat, no-nosed greyhounds and as you can imagine was totally indifferent to them. Did you know greyhounds are really mellow dogs? And I'm sorry. That first sentence in this paragraph was sarcastic, and then I meant the part about them being mellow. Keep up. Greyhounds are good apartment dogs, believe it or not.

There is a greyhound rescue place, and Laura and I are going to it together soon. Shut up.

In other people-are-feeding-me news–

Oh, wait. My mother and my best friend always want to know what I HAD when I eat places. I am kind of indifferent to that part, preferring to concentrate on the pet part. Faithful Reader Laura had a delicious spread of fruits and vegetables (strawberries, carrots, etc.), then chicken salad, a cucumber and dill salad, another thing that was risotto-y but that wasn't what it was. What was it, Laura? I ate a ton of it. Oh, and peanut butter Whoopie Pies.

When she was washing the strawberries I told her and her kids (oh, did I forget to mention she has kids?) that I'd found a tiny worm on my strawberry the day before.

"I don't feel like eating anymore," said her six-year-old daughter.

June. Ruining the appetites of kids since 2011.

Okay, so in OTHER people-feeding-me-news, I am in a book club in real life, and there is literally a Jewish mother in my book club, who I will call W. She has a whole name, I promise. Anyway, she got very concerned about everything going on in my life and asked if, after Passover, she could come over with an entire dinner for me.

Like I was gonna say no to that.

So I got some snacks, which the dogs promptly stuck their stupid tongues in right in front of her, and W. brought me homemade chili, brown rice, a salad, and even a can of Pellegrino. Then there were homemade cookies for dessert!

W. stayed for over an hour, despite the part where Tallulah fell desperately in love with her and kept PAWING her and Edsel kept LEAPING on her and OVER her and licking her EAR and really I don't know why anyone comes over, ever. And does anyone recall that BOTH dogs have been to obedience training? Cesar needs to MOVE IN to my home. Is Cesar single now?

Anyway, we had the best time. Well. I had the best time. She was probably counting the minutes till she could reasonably leave. I watched her nice pants get furrier and furrier until she looked like Chewbaca by the time she left.

So I am remaining well-fed and I do not know how I luck out in the friends department. I must seem sort of sad and hungry, like Dondi.

Dondi When did comics ever cost twelve cents?

At any rate, I am going now. To return to my statistics textbook. Which I have spent more than 10 hours on already and have not proofread page one of yet. I know. Don't you wish your weekend was hot like mine?

Comment of the week goes to the Chief, because come on. The Mt. Rushmore of lesbians? Click on This Week's Special if you wish to see.

They should totally make a Mt. Rushmore of Lesbians in real life.


June's stupid life · My pets · Proofreading/Copy editing

June is no longer a drain on society. Well. Sort of.



A jay oh beee!

Oh, what a relief. And yes, it is at the place that fed me ice cream during the interview. Yay! I will get fatter than ever!

I start May 2, which in case you hadn't noticed is Monday after next. I had five months of the days yawning before me with nothing to do, and all of a sudden my life is in a whirlwind. The Wicked Witch of the West is bicycling past my house, I'm telling you.

First of all, I must proofread that statistics textbook, which is one of the difficult text-y ones with line numbers and such that will take me 700 hours. Also too, Ima buy this house. I already talked to a real estate agent and a lawyer and to Marvin, and if everything works out, I can make it so just my name is on the title.

June Gardens. Land owner.

This means my father will not move in, which is sad because it was going to be fun to have him move in, but really, how sexy is it to be 45 and living with your dad? Plus also, I didn't want us to move in together and have us end up hating each other. We haven't lived together in a long time. I'd like to keep our relationship good. However, he might visit, because he promised me a bacon, lettuce and fried green tomato sandwich and I would like to hold him to that promise.


Now, I know what you may be thinking. "Oh, good! She can get her cats back!"

Yeah. No. I'm not gonna do that.

Every time I think about Henry and Winston, it's like a giant reaches in and grabs my innards out. It is so painful. Winston is the picture on my cell phone wallpaper, and every time I see the picture I get sad, but I am even sadder about taking his sweet picture off.

However, Marvin loves our pets as much as I do. I mean, you only saw my ridiculousness about these pets from my perspective. You never heard him talk to those cats in a high, absurd squeaky voice, or saw him sleep in the crack between the bed and the wall to accommodate all the pets in the bed.

Gee, I wonder why he left?

And he paid a huge deposit to have those cats. Plus, how weird and vengeful and animal hoardery would I be to say, "We had five pets between us and I demand them ALL!"

So he keeps my kitties. Note I just said "my" kitties. Because on the inside I am a weird animal hoarder. But I am trying not to be. Also, I would like to note for the record that Marvin took the good cats and left me with Francis.

Resent fran resent

I must go and work on that book, and also clean the house because a friend is coming over for dinner tonight. And by that I mean she is bringing over an entire cooked dinner. Am I the most pathetic person you do not know?

Before I go, yesterday in the comments I announced my job-y status and Faithful Reader Jenny suggested that in celebration of my new station in life, I have a giveaway of one of the inflatable items I enjoy so much. I think she was brilliant to think of it.

Therefore, everyone who comments before midnight my time today is in the running to win:

Inflatable toast! I know! Comment soon!

Family · June's stupid life

June at six

In the same place I found my glamor shots from the other day, I also found these:

Dote June-being-doted-on-by-her-grandparents-on-her-sixth-birthday shots.

First of all, nice secondhand smoke. All my grandparents smoked, and I am certain I was up to at least a pack a day by age six. Also? I have this same hairdo right now. Have I mentioned I will be delighted when this haircut grows out?

However, I think I am wearing an Avon pin with solid perfume in the head, there, and if I am correct, it was from the It's a Small World collection and I had the Asian doll. Also too, please note my bike basket behind me. I was riding a bike with training wheels, a thing I would do until I finally gave up and stopped riding bikes altogether.

I rode a two-wheeler for like a week. Then I forgot how again. Swear.

And how cute is my grandmother (she is the one I am turning into. Where is my Salem Light?) with her purse on her lap? Is she worried it is going to be snatched? Also, my grandfather looks 12.

Picky He was that kind of grandfather who always told jokes, and funny stories, and acted silly, and would talk to just you when all the other adults were talking about work or politics or other horrid things.

Lily I do not know who was dumb enough to give me the Lily Tomlin album. Perhaps it was the two of them. If so, they got to leave the house and not have to listen to it 92049458204 times. Also, that butterfly was a window decal. It was purple and pink. Because it was 1971. My maxi dress (because it was 1971) was lavender and made for me by my best friend's mom.

My memory should be studied by scientists or something.

In other pressing news, WHAT IS TAKING THAT COMPANY SO LONG TO HIRE ME? I have to sit here looking at photos from 1971 to keep myself amused. If I do not get three jobs in a row I am gonna take up smoking. And putting my purse on my lap at family gatherings.

I have to get dressed, though, because I am going to Faithful Reader Laura's house for lunch. She is the one who has greyhounds. She invited me for lunch and I said, "Will there be greyhounds?" I am a regular Jackie Kennedy, with my politeness. At least I am changing out of my checkered pajama bottoms and Owls Are Assholes t shirt. Which is from the Jackie Kennedy collection.

And that's the truth.

June's stupid life · Money · My pets

Forgetting 38 Pounds

Oh, thank all that is holy and merciful: I just checked my cash sitchyachun, and my two Unemployment checks were put in my account overnight and I am RICH again! Yay!

What a relief. At least they act quickly once you talk to them. And they’re always pleasant. You’d think they might be, you know, cranky. Considering who they’re dealing with all day. Tense unemployed people. But they are always nice.

In other news, here is Edsel:

Mred why dis gras in such bad shaype, mom? why it not perfect like you uncle jym’s gras? why you not inherit his perfect gras technique? why you show edsul you middle finger?

I realize showing you a photo of Edsel is not really news, per se, as I show you photos of him 9 million times a week, but my point is, a few weeks back, Edsel was lucky enough to receive a lovely collar FROM AUSTRALIA. For heaven’s sake.

E why edsul get giffs from other side of wurld? mom blog not that interstin.

The thing was, when he first got it, it was way big, but I loved it so much I put it on him anyway. Then every 10 seconds, I would say, “Grow your neck, Edsel!” which I’m sure isn’t annoying to hear. Or anything.

But I was looking at him this week, and that collar seemed less slippy. And I realized I hadn’t weighed him in awhile. Do you know our Edsel has gained four puppy pounds in the last few weeks? I thought he was stuck at 38 measly pounds for the rest of time. He is taller and longer than Tallulah and weighs way less.

Chunkylu that fassnating news. it becase edsul kwite skinny. have nothing to do with talu waite. talu perfect proportion. talu hips SUPPOSED to be like dis. her breed famus for dees hips. …lu embrase her curbs. okay?

Fran #%@& litewaits. both a ya. you wanna eatin’ contest? i’ll give ya a eatin’ contest.

All right. I must go. I am getting a statistics textbook today that I must proofread, so I have to go to Office Depot and get some White-Out pens. I know! The excitement never stops, over here.

Last night Forgetting Sarah Marshall was on TV and I have never seen it. No one ever told me that movie was hilarious. I am certain it would be funnier if it weren’t edited to bits. Every time they said “asshole” it got changed to “rascal.” “You’re such a rascal!” All of a sudden everyone was 86 years old.

Okay, this rashole is out of here.

June's stupid life · Money · Television

Wait Until June Flushes

Okay, so I just noticed I had $97 in checking. It's okay, though, because of the $9 I have in savings.

Holy crap.

Apparently Unemployment has not been paying me, and for those of you not on Unemployment, and God love ya, here is what they do. They do not TELL you there is an issue, they simply stop paying you. They did this to me before and I went on my merry way until I panicked about my lack of funds.

At any rate, I get my Unemployment automatic deposit on Mondays, and thank all that is holy and merciful I checked it today. I have no idea what I was doing last week that I didn't check; I WAS thinking my checking account looked a little light in its loafers, but I just attributed it to all that white paint I've been buying.

I got ahold of them and straightened the issue out and will have cash tomorrow so it will be fine, and fortunately I have two checks in my purse from this very blog and THANK GOD FOR THIS BLOG or I would starve to death.

Did I mention I would like it very much if that company hired me? Did I mention money things make me very sweaty and shaky? Did I mention the minute I get any cash I am getting Botox in my forehead, and I realize what I should be doing is putting the maximum amount in my four-oh-wonk or whatever because of my six months of unemployment, but shut up. I have gotten worry lines that need addressing.

In other news, I sat here last night and watched that William & Kate movie on Lifetime like it was good. Did you? The actor who played William was kind of hot.

Also too, I did work for the day yesterday, and that was kind of fun. A lot of people who got laid off along with me at my last job ended up working at this place, so there were lots of "JUNE!"s and screams and hugs and so forth. It was fun to see everyone. It was kind of like they just took all the characters and put them in a different building.

At one point, I retired to the restroom, to shake the dew off the lily, as it were, which is something Kate Middleton probably says a lot. There was just one other woman in there, a young hipster type with dark horn rim glasses. We said hi and I went into a stall.

When she left? Hipster Girl TURNED OFF THE LIGHT.

There were no windows in this bathroom, and to tell you I was plunged into darkness is not even half the story. The Chilean miners had more light. Do you remember that movie with Audrey Hepburn, where she was blind and she was groping around her apartment, and the bad guy was right next to her? That was me trying to find the light again in that foreign bathroom.

I was so gonna kick that hipster's ass.

Other than that, it was good to be back in, you know, public and the dogs were exHAUSted from being at day care nine hours, which is always a plus. I got to watch Lifetime in peace.

Oh, and it's a shame my "talk amongst yourselves" idea yesterday didn't pan out. I don't even know how many comments you left. I think it was ninety frillion. I stole that number from Miss Doxie and told her I was going to. Frillion. It's being a number. It's also how much I have in checking. A frillion dollars.

I am off to edge my lawn, because I know how to show myself a good time. Oh! And we were gonna have a book club again before all hell broke loose in my life. The Chief suggested a book and it had something like Lulu in the title. Let's read that; it sounded good. So everyone go out and get a book that has Lulu in the title.

Chief, please tell us the name of the dang book. Once she does, I will announce it for real and also the date we meet to discuss. And you all better REALLY READ THE BOOK for all the fussing you've been doing about book club.

June has spoken.

P.S. The Chief has just said the book is All About Lulu by Jonathan Evison. Let's say we will meet Sunday, May 22 to discuss. Seven p.m. my time. June has spoken again. I wish to end all my blog posts with "June has spoken."

June's stupid life · Music · Proofreading/Copy editing

Cause I’m free! Freelancing!

I cannot blog today because I am freelancing on-site all day. As opposed to the outta site proofreading I usually do.


Anyway, because I have to go shower and put on real clothes (as opposed to the virtual clothes I keep putting on daily, and why do I continue to get arrested, I wonder?), please talk amongst yourselves.

I thought maybe you could all tell me what your favorite song is, and also what your least-favorite is, and if you have any reason why, tell me that too.

This is not like Pieces of Wisdom, where I report your answers, it'll just give me something good to read when I return home.

Because it's not like I'll be reading all day or anything.

P.S. I still have free days from Dog Days Greensboro, and Tallulah and Edsel are there today, if you want to watch them play:

They are the blond medium-sized mutts. That ought to narrow it down.

Hair · June's stupid life

This story blows

Yesterday I hauled myself out to Raleigh, there, to get my roots done because I was rootin' out. If I were in a garden, I'd be one of the root vegetables. If I were having a good time, it'd be a rootin' tootin' one. I would be the home team, because someone has clearly been root-root-rooting for me.

You get my drift. I had some roots. Is what I had. If I were tea, I'd be Earl GREY.

So I knew it was gonna RAIN, I mean, I saw that on the weather thingie on my home page. It had the thunder and lightning picture up. So fine. It would rain while I got my rootage done. Who cares?

It was looking kind of ominous as I drove, and I can't remember who I told, "I like this kind of weather" but I do. I like drama queen weather. It was all close outside, you know what I mean? All damp and foreshadowy and darkish and "something's gonna happen!" like.

Anyway, I got to my hair appointment and settled in for the three hours it takes for my hairdresser to paint out the gray and prattle on endlessly. I never have to say a word while I'm there. I just lift my eyebrows occasionally or maybe murmur a "mmm!" every 45 minutes, and she talk talk talk talk talks. At one point, every time I see her, she says, "How did I get off on THAT tangent?

Really? Because all you ever DO is get off on tangents. And you wonder how you got off on that parTICular one?

Anyway, her salon is in an old brick building, with several other small salons in it, but hers faces the street. She took a break from her jabbering to say, "What time is it?"

"I don't know," I said, turning on my iPone. "Three-fifty or so?"

"Why is it dark out?" she said, heading toward the window.

You guys. It was PITCH BLACK outside. I mean, it had been raining, and thundering and lightning, and we had remarked on that, and in fact since she and I both grew up in the Midwest, we had even mentioned tornadoes, and you'll be surprised to hear she told a whole story about how tornadoes freak her out, because they freaked her dad out, who survived a horrific one where he actually grabbed and saved a naked twisting woman who flew past him in the air with all broken limbs.

She had gone on (!!) to say that as a child, her dad would shuttle them all to this concrete closet in the cellar and make her wear a motorcycle helmet any time there was the slightest tornado warning.

And now the sky was black. BLACK, folks.

Without hesitating, she turned from the window and ran to the next salon. I sat in the chair with dye on my head for awhile but finally looked in the hall.

Every other patron was surrounding a radio, looking stricken. They were listening to a TV station coming through the radio.

"We have lost power here at the TV station. We are coming to you from the basement of the studio. This is a life-or-death situation, listeners. Seek shelter immediately if you are in downtown Raleigh. Again, a tornado has touched down in downtown Raleigh."

"Are we in downtown Raleigh?" I asked. I had no idea. I just drive to the same salon every few months and then go home again.

Everybody shot me a terrible look as they strained to listen, which led me to glean we were so in downtown Raleigh.

"Trees are being uprooted," said the radio, as our lights flickered in the salon hallway. One of the other patrons screeched. "Roofs have been torn off. Again, SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. This storm is very dangerous."

It was very War of the Worlds, with the announcer in his basement and all.

My hairdresser was visibly shaking and the screecher was kind of crying into her wadded-up Kleenex.

"So, I kind of don't wish to be remembered this way," I said, my head slicked back with brown paint. "Is there, like, time to rinse me before we seek this shelter?"

I don't know why I wasn't scared but I totally wasn't. I guess because I have lived through 8,000 tornadoes in Michigan growing up, and also because we were in a brick building, and also just because I was probably in huge denial. But I felt like we were gonna be okay.

My hairdresser led me back to the sink. "Let's hurry and do this and get to the basement. I'm kind of freaking out right now."

"Well, if it's okay to leave the dye in, we can go to the basement now," I offered. See how generous I can be? I was totally willing to be all hideous dye-in-her-hair Pompeii woman, found with a stupid 'do for all time.

"No, they'll tell us if they hear anything else on the radio. Let's get this out of your hair."

I totally did not get the nice head massage that I usually get, which let me tell you was reflected in her tip.

By the time she washed and rinsed and neutralized and conditioned me, the other salon guy said the tornado had gone on to greener pastures, where by the way it ripped a whole roof off a Lowe's, and killed people, and did all sorts of damage. I mean, this was a serious tornado. It was not one of your happy-go-lucky tornadoes.

My poor hairdresser was still shaken and I told her she could call her family if she wanted but she seemed to just want to keep working on my stupid hair. "What style are we going for with your blow-dry?" she asked.

"Let's go for kind of a wind-swept look," I said.

Really, she failed to appreciate me all afternoon. I had some good material, there, and I am hoping that in the cool light of reason she can look back and enjoy my funny funny self.

The drive home was not pretty, as I had to keep swerving past downed trees and huge branches and the occasional hailstorm that passed through.

But my roots look fabulous.

Drag Queen envy · June's stupid life

$30.69 richer

I went to drag queen bingo last night and I am a WINNAH!


How much do you wish I'd stop saying WINNAH!?

Enclosed please find a photo Marty Martin took with his cell phone of me up there on stage winning my $30.69, and also of me getting to stand next to Big Shirley, who is the coolest drag queen of all time.

All prizes at drag queen bingo end in sixty-nine cents. Mature.

I had won earlier, too, except I didn't notice until some other idiot had yelled "Bingo." You have all those CARDS and NUMBERS going and your DABBER and it gets confusing. Plus, there are no straight lines in drag queen bingo, it's all these dang shapes and things, so you really have to stay alert.

I was trying to take pictures of the queens with my iPone, and yes I said Pone on purpose, but it was hard to capture someone midperformance. They prance around so much. When this particular queen walked by, Marty said, "I was thisclose to wearing that same outfit tonight."

This is why I want to be a drag queen. When else can you walk on the table and people are happy you're doing it? And hand you ones? Maybe I'll try it tonight at, say, Applebee's and see how it goes.

Anyway, we had fun and my drag queen envy rages on. I'm just a little richer. Except I got my surgery bill today and whoa, Nelly. Whatever happened to insurance actually covering things for you?

Here's Marty Martin's niece (who rocks the house), his girlfriend (who has always rocked the house as well, it's just that I just met the niece so I am newly in love), and me with our candy rings, which were on our table. It was Always a Bridesmaid theme last night. I like how our rings are so expensive and diamondy that they left trails in the photo.

Kaye immediately ate her ring, whereas I kept mine and sadly will wear it all weekend like it's normal.

Oooo, speaking of jewelry, I won some earrings!

See, here is my problem. I cannot find my battery charger for my real camera. Which results in everything being taken with the iPone, and that is sad, because these earrings are BEAUTIFUL and all you see is kind of a green-and-white blur. At any rate, Scraps had a drawing on her blog and I won because apparently I am winning everything lately except good medical coverage, and I am wearing these today along with my candy ring.

They are called Green Goddess, and does anyone else remember Green Goddess salad dressing? It was good. I am certain it was probably laden with MSG, but back then I could eat MSG like it was nothing.

Oh! And I hope you are holding on to your hat. It is Saturday and I am ACTUALLY awarding comment of the week as I am supposed to on Saturday. I know! This week it goes to L. in California for her poetic description of how she sees me walking my dogs.

What I do to find comment of the week is I just start reading the comments from last Saturday's post to the present, one after the other. And do you have any idea how often I laugh hard at one and go, "That could be comment of the week!" and it ends up being a comment from Paula H&B? I can't give it to Paula H&B EVERY week. Why must she be so pithy?

What an organized person would do is write down funny ones as the week progresses. Yeah.

Okay, I must go. I have a busy day ahead of me and step one involves putting green goddesses in my ears. And spending that $30.69.

Food and Drink · June's stupid life · Television

In which June consumes butter pecan at a job interview

When I was 15 or 16, I went to visit my father in Dallas, and he took me to the studio where he worked as a photographer. His friends got me all dressed up in the fancy clothes and jewelry there, and his model friend did my makeup, and his photographer best friend took these pictures of me. I just found them last night when I was looking for something work-related:

You can click on this sheet to see these photos better, if you want. But suffice it to say if was way fun. It was like Glamour Shots without having to go to the mall.

Starq And as you know, I wasn't in love with myself in my teen years or anything. So I was super-shy about the whole thing. See: hah.

I wonder if there was a whole I Hate June club in my high school or if it was less organized than that.

Anyway, my job discussion was fine. I had ice cream. Right in the middle of the time of my interview (job discussion) was ice-cream time, so they said, "Shall we all go get some?" and I said yes, and again. Why did I need larger pants at J. Jill? I think their pants run small.

After the butter pecan, they said they'd let me know in the next two weeks. Am I constantly waiting for Godot or what?

The job sounds really really cool. And it would be editing and copy editing, which I know means nothing to most of the world. But trust me. That would be excellent. Most excellent. Excellent-ay.

In the meanwhile, I have an all-day freelance job on Monday for a different place, so at least I do not have to sit here flapping up Talu's lips when I get bored. Oh, she hates that. I do it when she's asleep, when she's in the back yard surveying her domain on the deck, when she's watching the front yard from her perch on the couch. It does not matter where she is, she hates the flap anywhere I do it. And yet? Who can stop herself? Not me.

Did you ever watch that one show where people have a predilection for getting all up on animals you shouldn't? For example, there was the young woman who had like nine wolves in her house. Or the old lady who fed bears in her back yard. These stories always end with someone coming over to see why Bessie isn't showing up at work and all that is left of Bessie is a femur and maybe part of a nostril. This will be me after one lip-flap too many, over here.

I wanted to ask you something else deeply important. When you were a kid, did you ever tape music off the radio? Like, if I Just Wanna Be Your Everything came on, did you rush to your boom box to record the rest of it?

If you did, now when you hear, let's say, I Just Wanna Be Your Everything, do you automatically start singing the song that came right after it on your tape? Like for me, right after that, Ring My Bell came on and I snapped off the Record button after maybe the first five bars. So every time I Just Wanna Be Your Everything ends, I expect to hear:


But only that first annoying POOOOO! POOOOO! part.

Am I alone in this?

This is the problem with the youth of today. They do not have to WORK for their stolen music. They can just go online and get it. We had to sit there and listen to Kasey Kasem all morning. Is it Kasey or Casey?

Okay, I must go. In the first place, the dogs are barking terribly at these two Jehovah Witnesses who are walking the neighborhood. I know they are witnesses because they are already here and I have spoken to them. I invite any religious people in to talk because I figure it has to be a terrible task, going door to door and getting rejected all day. The last thing they probably wanted to do was enter this house o'fangs.

I did not ask them if they know Prince.

I will let you know if I become employed. You will be the first to hear.

Oh, and confidential to my Real Housewives friends: I think all the gay people of America should kick BOTH Sonja and Alex off their side. Who needs either one of those self-centered whoo-haas? And P.S. Simon's jacket. Enough said.


June's stupid life · My pets · Proofreading/Copy editing

Winging it

I was in the yard raking feathers, as you do, because this happened:

Does anyone remember when Tallulah used to be the jerky dog? Do you? Remember when she ate my Chicago Manual of Style? And my favorite childhood book that is irreplaceable? And JUST when she was getting normal, WHAT did I do?

I need to be examined in the head. "Oh, I need a PUPPY!" I said. You were here. You saw me do it. You saw me obsess. "I want a puppy so BAD! I need everything in my house destroyed! I need it to look like we had a snowstorm just in the backyard and nowhere else! I NEEEEEEED that! I need my nice silk decorative pillow to be ripped from limb to limb!"

And everyone says, "At least he did it outside," but you know what's easy? Getting up 9394959384 feathers off the grass. You know what might have been easier? Vacuuming them off the hardwood floor.

At any rate, there I was, raking the feathers, when the phone rang inside. "Don't they know I'm out here raking feathers?" I thought grumpily.

But it was that company! The one that said they'd call me if they got funding for a fabulous job for me! And I am going in today to "discuss the position."



Also, !!

I had to buy new pants. Not because I peed on the ones I was wearing, which I kind of did, but because I bought this fancy gray-blue Chanel-ish jacket (if you could buy Chanel at J. Jill) for the last place I interviewed  and I accidentally bought CROPPED pants to go with it and I went to that interview looking like Gilligan. I have 70 bazillion black pants and no other gray or blue, and I insisted to J. Jill when I went yesterday that their my-size pants just didn't fit right.

"Are these petites or something? They don't…give in the hips, somehow."

Guess who is a size larger? Guess who is a size 4789 now? Guess who is fatter than she has ever been and misses her Topamax days so, so bad? Oh, I need to diet, and yes I DID just eat strawberry pie and yes I DID just go to the salad bar at Harris Teeter and get fried rice.

I had better go get ready, and by the way I am having a feather giveaway. I know you all come here for the giveaways on this blog, you Greedy Guses.

Also, I have had the same people as comment of the week (see the This Week's Special button) for 80 weeks and I have been meaning to give Paula H&B and her comments about her cat Simon's poop the coveted award, and I do not even think she MADE that comment in the last seven days, but I am so far behind now that I am giving it to her and will catch up on Saturday, the traditional award day.

That was the longest sentence in the history of time. Now I gotta go FIND her comment, which should be a delight. Almost as delightful as raking feathers.

I am berserk · June's stupid life

Pink pink pink pink. Pink blog.

My blog is pink now. In case you hadn't noticed.


Here is my favorite song, Pink Moon, to celebrate it. Yay. Please note I did not spell it "yeah," "yea" or "ya." Heavens, people's Facebook updates irritate me.

And speaking of my signature color, Miss Doxie made a blush and bashful picture of Edsel, because apparently he is gettin' all the ladies this week:

Look how she has captured the underbite. Dying. (And, of course, his propensity for slipping on a tutu.)

And speaking of friends I have made through this blog, yesterday Faithful Reader Lilly told me her husband Chris had hatched several baby geese ("not literally," she told me) and did I want to come over and meet them, seeing as she lives nearby. "I promise we won't kill you," she said.

"Here is the thing," I said. "I don't CARE if you kill me, as long as I get to see the baby geese first."

So off I went, and have I mentioned that my death will eventually be at the hands of my love of animals, somehow? Swerving to not hit a bunny, climbing into the leopard's cage to kiss his head, going to a complete stranger's house to hold a baby goose. Whatever.

You guys. I stayed like three and a half hours. I was the blog guest who would not leave.

They had a whole FARM, and it was BEAUTIFUL, and they were SO COOL, and had TWO DOGGIES who greeted me when I got there!


I not easy to photograf cause I all blak. I know you gots foto skillz in first place.

Yellerdog When you leevin', anyway? You comin' over to kiss ma head agin?

Harse Hay-y-y-y-y-y! You suppo-o-o-sed to just meet geeses and goo-o-o-! Kwit harsin' around! Hrrrrr!

Jiveturkey You go-o-o-obblin' dinner here, too?

I so go-o-obbled dinner there, too. HOW RUDE AM I? I stayed to dinner! I petted barn kitties! I stayed for strawberry pie! I'm surprised I didn't ask if there was a guest bedroom where I could bunk down and maybe could one of the horses get in bed with me. I was having such a good time, though! Me and a barn full of animals? Come ON.

And despite their 405820505 animals, even the two dogs and one housecat? I walked into their house and I was all, "Wow, everything's so neat and tidy. How do you do it with all your pets?"

"I vaccuum," said my hostess.

"Hunh, vacuum," I said, making a mental note.

And oh! Was the food delish! Oh, I ate, I talked, I petted. A good time was had by me. They had to be up in seventeen minutes to get back to the farm, but HEY! Did I mention my good time?

Oh, and finally, here are the baby geetzes. I did hold them and their little webby feets, and I do not know why I didn't think to ask beleaguered Chris or Lilly to photograph me doing so, but I was too busy being enamored, I think.

Babygeetzes peep! peeppeeppeeppeep peep!

Sigh Honest God. WHEN you and flippy hair leavin'?


June's stupid life

Your Hostess

Photo on 11-9-12 at 7.28 PM #3
Okay, I just totally tried to invent a Bye Bye, Pie gang sign, then forgot the web camera would reverse and I hate myself. Hate white ungangy self. Word.

I am June Gardens. Yo.

I started a blog in 2007 in Los Angeles because I was going to go a year without spending any money. Which I did. That blog was called Bye Bye Buy and I wrote for a year. Not continuously. By the way, we saved a ton of money and managed to buy our house when we moved here to North Carolina. I mean, we didn’t save enough to buy a whole house in its entirety, but we had a down payment because we went a year without spending. We saved about $3,000 a month. I KNOW!

God, that was a tedious paragraph. At any rate, once the year was up, I realized I liked blogging and having an invisible Greek chorus out there commenting on my daily life, so I started this blog, which was gonna be a health blog, hence the name Bye Bye, Pie.

I did stay sort of healthy that first year, 2008, but then after that I gave up on themes and just stuck with this blog name, which now makes absolutely no sense.

As for the rest of the info on me, I hate vomiting (as opposed to the rest of you who absolutely adore it), I have large hair and it really never looks good, I have many pets, and I am a copy editor for a living. Also I am really getting sick of the word “veggies.”

Oh, and I grew up in Michigan, moved to Seattle after college because they read more books there per capita than anywhere else in the U.S., loved it there but met my husband who lived in L.A., lived in L.A.from 1997 until 2007, then came to North Carolina. I am now divorced from said husband, but it isn’t because he made me leave Seattle. Although I am kind of peeved, in the grand scheme of things, that I ever had to leave Seattle. But my big hair and that rain were never a good combo.

I have an “email me” button on the right side of my blog, I mean, the right side if you’re looking at my blog and not inside it, which, if you are, get out my blog. My point is, I READ everyone’s email but sometimes I get a ton and forget to reply. I know I am annoying. I still like hearing from you, though.

P.S. Veggies. ACK! Just irritated my own self.