June's stupid life · My pets


Look at who's back!

Marvin is going to Michigan for the 4th of July and I am cat-sitting for my own cats. MY KITTIES ARE BACK!!!

I love this picture. I have officially gone around the bend. Look at the chaotic, cat-filled room behind me, and I am holding poor traumatized Henry completely against his will. He has annoyed feets.

Winston came in and was all, "Hey." in his usual unflappable Winnie fashion. Henry, who GOT ALL BIG and doesn't even look like himself, was less than thrilled with coming back.

I don't know why.

So, my kittens' quiet world was kind of rocked by this whole thing,

and I even said to Marvin, as much as I want to see my cats, wouldn't it be better if they stayed at his place with the automatic feeder or something? But apparently his apartment, his swinging bachelor pad, gets hot. What with the bevy of babes coming in and out. So really it took about seven seconds before I was all, okay yes. BRING MY CHILDREN BACK TO ME.

The first kitten to notice the fact that large cats were here was Roger. Winston was all, "Oh hi. I'm Winston." And Roger FLATTENED OUT like an OTTER and said,


Oh, he was an unwelcoming host.

But it took Roger about 17 seconds to realize Winston is totally the coolest feline on planet Earth, and now he is following Win around like a shadow. You can tell he wants to be Winston. I'll come home tonight and he will have painted on stripes.

Not so much with Anderson. He's all, "why roger get big?" I think he is confused. And really, let's talk about how mellow Winston is. He comes home, I have replaced him with younger models, his brother is dead, and he sits in his old window like nothing happened. We should all take a page from Winston's book. "Litter happens, mom."

I let Henry go outside with me, so he could get his bearings. Does he look big to you? Seriously, he looks huge, if you ask me.

At any rate, everywhere you walk in my house right now, an animal is in your way. IT IS FABULOUS. And I'm so annoyed, because I have Peg's porch party tonight, and I am going to Winston-Salem tomorrow night, and oh! good. Saturday Chris and Lilly are coming here for a BBQ. Fortunately they live on a FARM so my house of hair won't seem so jarring. My point is, all I want to do is sit here and look at my former cats. But life calls. Stupid life.

Wish I had nine of them.


Books · Faithful Readers · June's stupid life

Faithful Reader Hulk

First of all, I am being stalked by somebody in Match.com. Not by Daniel Boone or Dick Whitman, and I am cracking my own self up with those phony names I have for the two decent normal men I met on there. Some OTHER guy.

He seemed okay at first, and he was funny and kind of reminded me of Faithful Reader Hulk, except not a Republican like Faithful Reader Hulk. No offense, Faithful Reader Hulk. I wonder how many times I can say "Faithful Reader Hulk" in this post?

At any rate, he asked if he could call me and I was all…well…okay, but not tonight because I am busy. I was busy thinking about Faithful Reader Hulk, as you do. But the guy called that night–twice–and has called 340598205 times since. "Hi, June, this here's Stalky StalkerLonely. Just calling to see how yer doin.' "

I mean, really? How many times do you need to call a person and they don't return the call before you get the hint? I'll bet Faithful Reader Hulk would've gotten the hint.

Last night I was working like a demon. In fact, I took this picture with the web camera while I was trying to open something and close something else all up on here:

It pretty much encapsulates my evening. I canNOT get this stupid project done for the statistics company where I freelance and I'm certain at this point they wish to shoot me in the head and feed me to Faithful Reader Hulk. So I was opening one document and closing another and taking sneaky shots of myself and eating a pen when:

Ring! Ring!

For the love of all that is holy.

"Haaaahh, Jooone! Stalky here agin! Jist seein' if you're around."

Okay, guess what. I AM NEVER GOING TO BE AROUND.

Thank God for caller ID. And for Faithful Reader Hulk.

In news that does not concern my newfound love life, we need to pick a book for book club. So far the suggestions have been:

The Historian

The Road to Wellville

Water Music

The Corner of Bitter and Sweet

You know what? There was more and I can't find the suggestions. Try combing through my effing comments for just one thing. Easy it is not. Faithful Reader Hulk might be easy, but this? Nosir.

So if you have more suggestions, make them TODAY during the day, not tonight, and let's decide on a book before tomorrow morning. Vote now or forever hold your peace.

And the first person to come to book club and say, "I'm here but I didn't read the book!" gets a bitch slap from Faithful Reader Hulk.

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

Burning down the workplace

Yesterday at work, somebody walked down my aisle and said, "What's that smell?"

I don't know about you, but I always panic when someone says that. Am I wearing another kitten-pee shirt? Did I accidentally bring a bag of dog poo in with me? These things are entirely possible when you're me.

Fortunately, the building was burning down and the smell was not mine.

I work in a cool old building that used to be a textile mill, and just so you know, everything in North Carolina used to be a textile mill. This house was probably a textile mill. I don't know what happened, except probably in 50 years everyone in China will be working in a cubicle that used to be a textile mill.

The point of my story is, it was some kind of electrical fire and although I never got to see flames–other than one questionable fireman–we all got to go home for the day. Supposedly today everything will be fine, but I am bringing s'more items just in case.

Now, some people might take an unforseen day off and head to the park with their dogs. Some might get their credit card and go shopping. Me?


Oh, I had a good nap. I kicked Edsel out of the room, because even though his entire goal in life is to be sleeping right next to me, all he does is FIDGET during our naps. Fidget fidget fidget. Oh, my foot needs biting. Hey, is someone walking by outside? I gots a itch. Let me sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff snifff SNURF in your ear.

So he was out of there. It breaks his heart. But screw him. I was gettin' unplanned nap time.

Also too, I have freelance work to do from the statistics company. And a mature person might have said, Oh wow. Now I have all day to tackle this work so I don't have to struggle with it in the evenings!

Yeah. Who picked up that work at 8:30 last night, finally?

And did you see Tom Hanks and that phony Julia Roberts on Oprah yesterday?

So it was an exciting day off. A lot was accomplished.

Roger and Anderson did a lot, too. Maybe I'm part cat.

I guess I was tired from fornicating with everyone in North Carolina all weekend.

(To be clear, I fornicated with absolutely no one this weekend. I was on the phone with my friend Paula earlier, and I mentioned I had two dates over the weekend, and by the end of the conversation I had exaggerated it from "I had two dates" to "I performed acts of bestiality on every creature in the Western hemisphere." Which makes no sense. You can only perform acts of bestiality on beasts, right?

Also, Paula kept drinking out of a glass of something, and as she talked she would sound like she was speaking from a long ice-filled tunnel. "What are you drinking?" I asked, annoyed that anyone would drink things while talking to me, and not giving me their undivided attention.

"Lemonade and iced tea," she told me.

"Oh, yeah," I said. "Isn't that called something? A Jack Horner or something?"

Paula brought her Jack Horner up through her nose holes, she was laughing at me so hard. "An Arnold Palmer, but Jack Horner was really close."

Arnold Palmer, Jack Horner. What's the diff? This is the longest parenthetical comment in the history of time.)

This Jack Whore better get in the shower so I can see what's left of the charred remains of my workplace. Maybe the building caught on fire because I'm so damn hot.

P.S. I just got on Facebook and saw this poem Miss Doxie wrote in the words of Edsel. I am sorry; she kills me, Miss Doxie does. And she might be a titch hotter than me.

Roses r red
Viletz r blu
Edsel is hugries
Where is ham?

June can't keep a man · June's stupid life

June is a tramp

So, I went on a date yesterday, with a whole different boy.

I KNOW! Once June starts something, she really gets into it.

We will call this guy Daniel Boone, seeing as we met under a giant Daniel Boone statue.

Who knew Daniel Boone was a marionette? And also that he seems to have arthritis issues?

Anyway, Daniel Boone my date and I are basically the same person, except he is a boy and I am supposedly a girl. Seriously. We were emailing 90284520582034 times, because neither of us can shut up, and one time at the bottom of his email he wrote, "Sent from my desktop" and I realized my emails must have said "Sent from my iPhone," and I always say something stupid when people send me an email that says Sent from My BlackBerry or iPhone or whatever. I usually say "Sent from my old cheap computer."

So when I wrote him back, I had my iPhone say, "Sent from my pretentious phone" and he shot back: "That's what I set up my iPhone to say all the time! Did you know that? Did you do that on purpose?"

Also, he lived in Seattle. I lived in Seattle. He has a dog (chocolate Lab mixed with something anxious, he says). He stopped yesterday to greet every dog we saw. Also, we sat on a rock on a little lake and got out our pretentious iPhones and showed each other pictures of our dogs. Nature. A wonderful place to whip out your gadgets. So to speak.

The question is, do I want to date myself? I'm already stuck inside myself. Do I want my own self along with me?

At any rate, it was a fun day. We walked all around this historic little town, and I could not help thinking about how Marvin would have loved this town. There was all sorts of ridiculous stuff to see:

but I like how all I managed to take a picture of was this ludicrous ad in a window. Why is this man wearing a shirt with his circulatory system on it?

I am managing to not date anyone today, I mean unless someone at work finds me absolutely irresistible and has to make out with me by the copy machine or something.

It is hard being me.

P.S. Faithful Reader Mary V. made us team buttons! Thank God there are grownups who read me. The link to get your button and put it on your blog, or print it out and laminate it, or take it to your local tattoo parlor, is up there on the upper-right of my blog.

June's stupid life

Team Buttons

Looking for team buttons? Look no further.

Copy and paste the code next to the team button you want. Add it to your blog using an HTML Gadget/Widget. Or right click the picture, save to your pc and then upload to your blog. Just be sure to link the button back to Bye Bye Pie.

      <a border=”0″ href=”http://byebyepie.typepad.com/bye_bye_pie/&#8221; _mce_href=”http://byebyepie.typepad.com/bye_bye_pie/&#8221; target=”_blank”><img src=”http://i1051.photobucket.com/albums/s439/junegardens/bbp1.png&#8221; /></a>

      <a border=”0″ href=”http://byebyepie.typepad.com/bye_bye_pie/&#8221; _mce_href=”http://byebyepie.typepad.com/bye_bye_pie/&#8221; target=”_blank”><img src=”http://i1051.photobucket.com/albums/s439/junegardens/bbp6.png&#8221; /></a>

      <a border=”0″ href=”http://byebyepie.typepad.com/bye_bye_pie/&#8221; _mce_href=”http://byebyepie.typepad.com/bye_bye_pie/&#8221; target=”_blank”><img src=”http://i1051.photobucket.com/albums/s439/junegardens/bbp7.png&#8221; /></a>

      <a border=”0″ href=”http://byebyepie.typepad.com/bye_bye_pie/&#8221; _mce_href=”http://byebyepie.typepad.com/bye_bye_pie/&#8221; target=”_blank”><img src=”http://i1051.photobucket.com/albums/s439/junegardens/bbp3.png&#8221; /></a>

      <a border=”0″ href=”http://byebyepie.typepad.com/bye_bye_pie/&#8221; _mce_href=”http://byebyepie.typepad.com/bye_bye_pie/&#8221; target=”_blank”><img src=”http://i1051.photobucket.com/albums/s439/junegardens/bbp4.png&#8221; /></a>

      <a border=”0″ href=”http://byebyepie.typepad.com/bye_bye_pie/&#8221; _mce_href=”http://byebyepie.typepad.com/bye_bye_pie/&#8221; target=”_blank”><img src=”http://i1051.photobucket.com/albums/s439/junegardens/bbp5.png&#8221; /></a>

      <a border=”0″ href=”http://byebyepie.typepad.com/bye_bye_pie/&#8221; _mce_href=”http://byebyepie.typepad.com/bye_bye_pie/&#8221; target=”_blank”><img src=”http://i1051.photobucket.com/albums/s439/junegardens/bbp8.png&#8221; /></a>

      <a border=”0″ href=”http://byebyepie.typepad.com/bye_bye_pie/&#8221; _mce_href=”http://byebyepie.typepad.com/bye_bye_pie/&#8221; target=”_blank”><img src=”http://i1051.photobucket.com/albums/s439/junegardens/bbp2.png&#8221; /></a>


There you have it. Now choose your team. And choose wisely.

June can't keep a man · June's stupid life

No time left for youuuu

I had a really good time last night, and now I gotta rush out the door again.

I am a gadabout lately.

Dick Whitman met the pets, and Edsel jumped all over his allergic self 4502848 times. I had given a bone to both dogs so they'd stay amused, but Tallulah took BOTH bones and trotted off under the table. Edsel did not even try to get his back. Who is beta?

Anyway, we saw our foreign film and acted all sophisticated and then we came back and I served him some sparkling wine that my mother told me to get. Because I am sophisticated. We sat on my front porch, where there is little pet dander, and Dick Whitman said, "That is one enormous bug on your porch, there."

It was the BUG! The bug that's been in my house! I mean, not the SAME bug because Tallulah and her corn-nut wreath ate that one, and if you didn't read me yesterday you will think I have gone berserk.

Oh, let's face it. You have thought I went berserk ages ago.

I screeched about how that was the bug, and Dick Whitman said, "Let me get my camera. You can show your blog readers." And he dashed off to his car and got a fancy camera.

"You just…go around with your camera everywhere?" I asked. I mean, I know I'm one to talk, but this was a fancy thing, not my stupid iPhone.

Anyway, the only person who will enjoy this photo is Faithful Reader Siren:

Isn't it disgusting? And how filthy is my doorway? And look, it needs painted down at the bottom. Like I'll ever go near that part of my door again, knowing this creature was over there. But see what I mean about the antlers? Ugh.

So other than having to look at a giant menacing bug, the evening was lovely. And I continue to not be murdered. Win!

Okay, I have to run. June. Never being home since she turned single.

I am berserk · June can't keep a man · June's stupid life

June prepares

That dreadful bug came back yesterday. It is occurring to me that maybe there is more than one. To which I say,


like that Cathy in that funny funny comic strip.

I was perhaps emailing 75 times back and forth with a cute boy, and no it was NOT Dick Whitman. Girl, I am a dating FOOL lately. Anyway, the dogs started acting all twitterpated, and THERE IT WAS. The BUG. In all its disgusting glory.

But listen to THIS.

Tallulah started chawing on it! Chaw chaw chaw, said Talu. "GET IT, GIRL" I screeched, from behind the safety of the wall. She took that disgusting thing, which was half the size of her and her swoop, to her dog bed and would chew it and drop it, chew and drop. Stop drop and roll.

Finally it was dead enough that I vacuumed it, screeching on my insides.

Tallulah is my hero.

LaurelluThat is supposed to be Lu with a laurel wreath on her head. Instead it looks like she's wearing corn nuts.

I know you wish you were born with my natural artistic abilities.

But speaking of Dick Whitman, which I did 87 paragraphs ago, he is coming over for the first time tonight. I have known him a month and have decided he has gone to enough trouble to try to kill me and now he can have success.

We are going to a movie, and the movie is five minutes from my house, and I said oh for heaven's sake. Come get me at my house.

Dick Whitman is allergic to pet dander. I KNOW. So he won't be staying long. But because he hates himself he does want to meet my pets. I guess I have made them sound fascinating. We'll see whose team he's on.

Oh, and I won. More people were on Team June than anyone else! Yay me! Team Edsel was a close second, because you all enjoy you a goofy dog, and then the other three kept sort of tying for third place. The three of them say piss on all of you. Literally.

Anyway, I must go try to make myself and this house presentable. You always think your dwelling is fine until a new person is coming over. Then all of a sudden it looks like the house on Sanford & Son. Is that just me?

Comment of the week goes to both Hulk and Matze. It was boy week here at Bye Bye Pie.

Talk to you tomorrow, unless Dick Whitman is Ted Bundy or something! It's always funny till I end up in a field.


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


Tallulah’s gettin’ her swoop back.

When she got hit by that car last month, Marvin took her to the vet to make sure she was okay, and other than the mite in her ear the only other thing wrong was she weighed FIFTY-FOUR POUNDS, which she should not. She is not that big of a dog.

Whenever any of y’all all who only know Tallulah through this blog meet her in real life, you always say, “She’s so much SMALLER than I thought!” You also say, “Is she ever gonna stop growling?” Tallulah only comes up to my knees. She is not Lab-sized; she’s mediumish. Except for the part where she was fat.

Anyway, I have been really careful about closing the gate when Edsel is eating his puppy food, and the kitten food is on top of the dog crate (the kittens scramble up there like monkeys to get to it), so all she eats is her teensy portion of dog food, which makes me feel bad, but LOOK AT HER SWOOP! It’s back! Go, Lu. She is hot again.

Do you wonder why I have aprons? So do I.

We need to establish teams again. We have so many new members now.

Are you:

Helooo! Team June, because you have no taste and also wear ill-fitting brassieres?

Scared Team Tallulah, because we all see up your nostrils? Also because you’re trying to get your swoop back?


RogerAre you bold and fearless Team Roger?

AndersonhangsOr sweet and cuddly and purry Team Anderson?

Starq I know whose team I’M on. With her star quality…

Books · June's stupid life · Television

In which June is stuck on the word “appalled”

The angry chair has brought out the anger in my kittens.

I wonder what Francis would think of this? I think he'd have been appalled. And perhaps cranky. Also? Nice cornhole, Roger.

In other news, I will always turn up the volume when this song comes on. I wonder if it's hard for sober Dave Navarro to sit right next to that idiot with the wine bottle?

And hey! We need a new book to read for book club. Suggestions, please. One thing we discussed in the comments was everyone watching It's a Wonderful Life instead of reading a book, as I was as appalled as Francis when I realized some of you hadn't watched it. Suggestions, please.

I must go, as perhaps I stayed up late yakking on the phone again. Oh! But before I do, did anyone see Ryan O'Neal being interviewed on Piers Moran the other night? First of all, what kind of a phony-ass name is "Piers"?

June. Losing readers named Piers since summer of 2011.

How big of a narcissist is Ryan O'Neal? He was appalling! Like Roger and Anderson in the chair, he was appalling! Nothing was ever his fault, he blamed poor Tatum O'Neal for everything. No wonder none of his kids turned out okay. Yeesh. Please tell me someone else saw this.

Okay, really going now.

Health · I am berserk · June's stupid life

I hate my head

If I was gonna pick a day to get a migraine, did I have to pick the longest day of the year? My pain went an extra, extra, extra long time.

What is that a commercial for? Is it Extra gum? Which by the way is a stupid name. Extra. Do they give you an additional piece in the pack? No. Then stop calling it that. Do you know people who are always chewing that bright green Extra gum? I did, in college. They were always chawing on that stuff like there was some weird science experiment going on in their mouths.

But I digress. Yesterdday at the end of the workday, I was in a brainstorming session, and man did my brain ever begin to storm. I was having fun, too, because we were thinking up clever phrases. Although I should tell you that if I ever have to think of clever things on the spot I never ever can. Kind of like when people introduce me, "This is my friend June. She's really funny!" and then I'm the guy who write the Bazooka comics all night–the least-funny person on Earth. Still I was enjoying my brainstorming meeting until I felt that first migraine twinge.

My head was getting worse and worse, but it was nearing 5:00 and I thought surely we'll end the meeting so people can go home. Often I call myself Shirley. But no! We kept going! Just like Extra gum!

At 10 after we all finally got up, and I tried to not mince to my desk cradling my head as I wanted to. Just as I was at my desk, my boss's boss said, "Oh, June. Before you go, can you take a look at the whooo-de-whooo and make sure it's okay?"


"Sure!" I smiled, trying not to vomit on my shoes. Which by the way, my Pal from MA sent me NEW PINK SHOES for my birthday and I just got them yesterday and naturally I wore them right away. So barfing on them would have been disappointing.

And yes, foot fetish people. I will take a photo.

Anyway. By the time I got home I was suffering succotash. I went to bed, and Edsel and Tallulah decided that was an EXCELLENT time to begin wrestling ON TOP OF ME, so I had to banish them. This meant the entire time I was in the bed, Edsel was outside my door. "Hmmmmmmm! Hmmmmmmmmmm! WWWoahhhhhhh. Hmmmmmm." Edsel is obsessed with me. He needs counseling.

I am better today, and I see that it rained, so my migraine is explained. Usually I can figure out why I got one–stupid sleep pattern, not eating, accidentally ingesting MSG. But rain will do it too. Something about barometric pressure.

I did wonder if my new diet had anything to do with it, but I am not starving myself. I have been paying $17 a month for Weight Watchers online and doing nothing with it since January, which is annoying and wasteful and no wonder God hates me and gives me migraines. So since Sunday I have been Weight Watchering and I weigh less already. Can you tell? Does my font look thinner?

I must go, because Roger is crying pitifully and so is Edsel. I have to close Roger up in the bedroom so I can feed Anderson his fattening canned food, and oh! It makes him mad. Edsel is upset because the computer room door is shut. "Hmmmmmmmm! HMMMMMMM! ARF! HMMMMMMMMM. Mew! Mew! MAAAAAAAAEEEEWWWW!" It's copacetic here, is what it is.

Oh! I almost forgot.

RubylilyRuby's lily bloomed! For those of you just tuning in, Ruby was my cat, and she died in 2009 and I planted a lily where she's buried. And yes, I DO have two dead cats in my yard. I look forward to the next people who live here discovering all the cat bodies. They'll think I was some kind of cat killer.

In fact, these two are not sleeping. I have gassed them. Wa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaaaaa! Death to all kitties!

Okay, my migraine has made me flip my lid. Goodbye.

June's stupid life · Money

In which June buys her own house and it is annoying

Could I be any crankier right now? I am typing this on Monday night, because I plan to overdose on decaf green tea tonight and sleep in tomorrow. I KNOW how to relax and have a good time when I'm stressed.

As you may know, if you salivate over my every move, and why don't you, I am putting this house in my own name. Now, why you can't call the mortgage company and say, "Hi! This is June's house now!" and be done with it is beyond me. I have to BUY it all over again, because interest rates are lower or the tide is rising or I'm wearing highwaters or the tide is high but I'm holding on. I DON'T KNOW. For some reason I have to go through the same paperwork hell I had to go through in April of 2008 when I bought this house in the FIRST place.

Two months ago I met with this real estate woman with unkempt hair, and I know I'm one to talk, but you have never seen hair this ludicrous.

Dude. I KNOW.

You don't have to tell ME that's saying a lot. But seriously. I wish I could include her business card photo on here. It makes my locks look silky and manageable.

And why do Realtors think they need to show us their picture, anyway? Is this gonna make us trust them more? Because once I got a load of old whirlwind hair, there, I was not so sure.

Honestly, WHAT was going on with my hair in that last photo? Did someone squeeze me like a pecan?

So I met with old unseen-wind hair, and I filled out 83848593945923.3 forms on the first day, and I swear to you I have filled out 87,000 more in the weeks that have passed. I ALREADY BOUGHT THIS HOUSE. How much paperwork could there BE?

Today I got a huge packet in the mail from the bank, and then this woman called me and went over the FIFTY PAGES I needed to sign and return to her. Also, I had to write a letter explaining why I was laid off (Dear Bank, The economy sucks. You started it. Love, June), and the VARIATIONS IN MY NAME.

They want to know why I have a maiden name, a married name, and why I sometimes use my middle initial. I am not making that up. Woooo! With the aliases!

So after work, I sat here and wrote my letters and explained that wild middle inital use…

…then I tried to fax all the pages to New York.

Oh, for the love of all that is holy.

Have you ever tried to fax 50 different-sized pages from your 1902 fax machine? I have to tie the power cord to a dinosaur, who dances a sugaring-off dance playing on a Victrola to get it started. Oh, I tried 87 times.

Finally, even though I was wearing my work pants, my Burbank Tshirt and my silver Dr. Scholl sandals that some odd person keeps writing and asking me for more photos of (Dear Foot Fetish Reader, No. Love, June), I went to Office Depot, where I was so annoyed I did not even LOOK for my kitties.

And do you know they wanted to charge me (sit down) FIFTY DOLLARS to fax those effing pages? It's a ONE EIGHT HUNDRED number! Oh, I was mad! Fifty dollars! Like it really cost them that much to send. Peckerfuckerheads.

I am sorry. That was my favorite swear in junior high. It still works.

So I gathered my fine outfit and went back home. I STOOD HERE, OVER THE FAX MACHINE, and fed each page in one at a time.

In the meantime? Everybody in the world tried to call me. My neighbor Peg came over on Saturday, as I was just getting home and had both kittens in a carrier and groceries in my other hand, to tell me she was having a deck party on the 30th. "Okay!" I said, as I headed in the house. I mean, I had a lot going on, there.

She called the next night when I was out to say the party started at 6:30 and to call her back. Now, this is something that irks me. Why do people want you to call back when you have gotten all the pertinent info? What more could there be to say? The party is NEXT DOOR. In my BACK YARD. I'll SEE it when it's happening. I won't be ABLE to forget it.

So tonight? In the middle of all this hell? RING! RING!

"Hi, June, it's Peg! Did you get my message about the party?!"

No. No, I did not. I cannot figure out this newfangled contraption called the tellyfowne, and why does it beep at me when I pick it up? What do it mean? I got a PERSON in there who will give me MESSAGES? Well, I'll be!

"Yes, Peg," I said briskly, "but I'm in the middle of buying-my-house papework right now. Can I talk to you later?"

"Wait," she said. Peg is a dear friend and a lovely neighbor and I am glad she lives next door, but she is lucky I did not have a fire bomb at that moment, and also that I really don't technically know what a fire bomb is.

"My friend wants your blog address! What is it, again?"

Peg has looked at my blog 82942949 times, and of course if she reads THIS post she will hate me. Hi, Peg!

"Byebyepie," I shot out crankily.

"Bye!?" she asked.




"And then pie, like p-i-e?"

Ohforgodssake YES.

"Dot com?"

And that is why I am writing you from Folsom Prison. I shot a neighbor in Greensboro, just to watch her die.

Anyway, all those effing effing effing DING effing DANG pages have been sent, and now guess who is looking at me with his underbite, wondering where his walk is? Dogs are so %#$#%&*# SELFISH.

This had better be the nicest house I've ever moved into, is all I can say.

…Oh, wait.

Friends · June's stupid life · Photo essays

00000000 (Anderson Cooper wrote this title)(It’s not at all annoying when he walks across the keyboard)

Yesterday, I took the kittens to the vet for their shots, and I was quite worried about skinny Anderson. He is 11 days older than Roger and weighs HALF what Roger does.

I looked in my photos to show you an example of how much bigger Roger is, but I found this shot of Edsel in the cat window and it slayed me. Francis' influence stretched way beyond his death; this was the first time either dog ever got in the angry chair. They have dutifully stayed away from its empty self all this time. Anyway, now Edsel has a new way to stare longingly at me when I get sick of him following me and sticking his nose on me every second.

So the vet checked out both kittens, and I said, "What can I do about skinny Anderson?" She said, "I think this monster, Roger, is stealing all the food. Feed him separately and feed him fattening canned kitten food. Because his health is stellar otherwise."

So Anderson had a big day yesterday.

In the meantime, though? After all that worrying about Anderson's skinny ass? ROGER has a HEART MURMUR! Roger! Big healthy ridiculous Roger! Also, he has a hernia, which is common and can be fixed when HE gets fixed.

The vet said the heart murmur could be nothing, and I really think it IS nothing. You have never met a more hearty kitten in your life. That cat is healthy as a horse. A horse with a heart murmur.

After they got their shots, they were tuckered out all day.

It was weird to see them lounging around like real cats, not thundering through the house like banshees. Do banshees thunder? Our are they just kind of screamy?

OH! And at my  vet? Some idiot dropped off a cardboard box in the parking lot? With THREE KITTENS in it!


I am trying to talk my friend Laurie into taking one. Or, you know, two. She is partial to the white one and the orange one. I think she should name the orange one Orange, and the white one You Glad I Didn't Say Banana. But maybe that's just me.

Speaking of Laurie, she and I headed off to the Lowe's, there, to get me a screen door. We were like a lesbian couple, headed out to improve our home together on a Saturday, followed by a nice trip to Lillith Fair. Stereotype much, June?

I would just like to state, for the record, that I shot out the door yesterday morning with wet hair and no makeup and this is how Laurie captured me on film. Hey, it was LOWE'S. And what self-respecting lesbian does her hair and makeup anyway? (Please see earlier reference to stereotyping.)

Laurie had taken a bunch of I'm-a-Virgo, boring-ass measurements at my house, and I am a brick.HOWSE. 36-24-26. OW! No. She measured my door. So then we had to ask the guy at Lowe's a bunch of things, and when my door GETS HERE we have to saw it. SAW IT! I KNOW! Apparently Laurie knows how to do this. Thank god for her lesbian self.

Basically, I am getting a super-fussy, old-fashioned, screen-door-from-The-Waltons kind of a door. Do you think it looks too olde tyme ice cream parlor? Oh, who cares. Then we had to search around and find doorknobs that looked old-fashioned and really I should have been born in 1892.

Really looking forward to the dang thing getting here IN SEVEN DAYS, and then the kittens climbing up it.

After that, Laurie made me go around Lowe's and make an idiot of myself for her camera, which you know I did.

You kind of have to hand it to me that I am willing to show you pictures of me looking this hagged out. I have no modesty.

At any rate, since we couldn't put up the door yesterday, we went to Starbucks instead, where we ran into a friend of mine and Laurie insisted we take 87 pictures of my friend, but I did not ask if I could put her picture in my blog so I will not show you those. Basically if you are camera shy, you should not hang with Laurie.

Did I mention I am the only child of a photographer? If you don't bring a camera I think there's something wrong with you.

And speaking of being an only child, happy Fathers Day to everyone, including my own dad who STILL HAS NOT GOTTEN MY GIFT. I told him I got him a Kiera Knightly blowup doll and he is going to be so disappointed. Also happy Fathers Day to my stepfather, who whenever you ask him what he wants for Fathers Day he says peace on earth, and every time I says that I threaten to blow something up.

Peace out. With your piece out.

Books · June's stupid life

Mince Words with June: All about Lululululululu (who loves herself?)

I bought this book on Amazon, because God forbid I save any money and look for it at the library or anything. Then once it came, I realized I'd read it before, and not only had I read it before, but Faithful Reader The Chief had sent it to me for free.

This is why I'll never be rich.

So, who predicted the ending? I surely did not, and it even took me awhile reading it again to remember what the end was. But once you've read it once and re-read it knowing the ending, Lulu makes more sense.

Did you like her or did she bug you? I kind of liked her, although there is nothing worse than a beautiful, tortured, self-centered young girl. Really. There isn't. Men salivate all over her, and if she were a haggard tortured 45-year-old, no one would give a rat's ass.

Not that I am speaking from experience or anything.

I also really liked that she moved to Seattle in the late '80s, as I moved there in the early '90s and could identify with her experience there. Although where she found a one-bedroom apartment she could afford on her own is beyond me.

Oh! And I have been to that dinosaur in the middle of the California desert, so I liked that part, too. It is still there and you can still climb in his abdomen and go up to the top and look out through his teeth. Way cool.

I can never get into narrators who are physically unattractive. I just want to get in there and say, DO SOMETHING WITH YOUR APPEARANCE. Maybe that makes me shallow. Do you think? So I never really rooted for him that much, nor for his gross brothers. I kind of liked them as a family once they all got older.

I guess that is all I have to say about that. What did you think of this book? I liked reading it, both times.

Your partner in mincing,


Books · June's stupid life · Not Grace Kelly

Eau de–eau kill me now

Before I forget, book club is tonight! Seven p.m. my time (Eastern). Click Mince Words with June if you are bored and want to rush out, buy a book, read it, and be ready for book club at 7:00. That is totally something I would do.

However, today I am not bored. I have to take Anderson and Roger to the vet for their initial shots. Not that they are getting shot with the letters "A" and "R." Then Laurie and I are putting up a screen door on my back door area, and I do not mean my buttockals.

I always have capable friends, which is good since I know how to do nothing. My friend Tammy used to "teach" me to sew buttons, meaning she would sew all my buttons for me and I would watch her TV because even in college she had the good channels.

How do y'all afford all the good channels? Even when Marvin and I made six figures I never felt like I could afford it. Maybe if we had earned dollars and not settled for six body types…

I am on fire today.

Also, Edsel ate my bra. I am so irritated with him. I JUST BOUGHT IT a few months back and it's a good one. Bastard. He ate the little ribbon off the front, so I can still WEAR it, it just looks like a pack of wolves came at my cleav.

Why the HELL did I want all these pets? Could someone remind me? And has anyone gotten me the bulldog puppy yet? Because I note his conspicuous absence.

Oh, and speaking of my annoying pets (but not my sweet new bulldoggy, who surely will not cause me any trouble and thank you again for buying him for me), yesterday I wore a peasant blouse, because I am a peasant who cannot afford the good channels on her TV. Both my mother and my cousin gave me tons of clothes when I was in Saginaw last weekend, and each of them gave me a peasant blouse.

"I really don't like how I look in peasant blouses," my cousin said. "Neither do I," said my mother. "It's like I'm, I don't know, too dignified to wear them." "EXACTLY!" agreed Katie, neither of them thinking about the fact they were handing their undignified blouses over to me, who is apparently the Richard Simmons/Lady GaGa/Soupy Sales of the family.

So with my lack of dignity, I wore a green peasant blouse yesterday and decided I needed a little tank underneath so everyone would not see my bits. Who knows why I bothered, what with my evident lack of dignity, but there you go.

When I slipped on the tank, I thought, What is that SPOT on here? I figured I must have spilled coffee on said shirt, which, you know, what else is new, but I was in a hurry and it was going under my blouse so I put it on anyway.

When I came home for lunch, the kittens COULD NOT STOP sniffing my shirt, and they kept getting that open-mouthed kitty look cats get when they smell another cat. I figured since the shirt belonged to my cousin, they smelled her cat.

After work I went out for drinks with a coworker (she had diet cola and I had cream soda. PARTAYYY!) at a fancy hotel bar and I thought, What is that SMELL in here?

When I got home, I smelled it again.

Guess what.

My tank top? Had KITTEN PEE on it. I had piled my whites on Fran's angry chair before I left for the weekend, and I don't know if they were mad I was gone, or they smelled Francis or what, but the point is I went around ALL DAY and into the EVENING with eau de pee de kittay on my shirt.

Why did my family give me those undignified shirts again? How long has it been since I mentioned I hate everything?

June's stupid life · My pets · Photo essays

SCRAM! And I am not a Vermicious Knid.

CouchI have never wanted the dogs to be on the couch, if you want to know the truth. It was always Marvin who allowed it, and who wanted the dogs in the bed, too. There is a tacky joke here about Marvin's new single life, but I will remain the Grace Kelly I always am on this topic. Mostly because I can't think of a good one.

Once he left, I thought maybe I could get the dogs to get off the damn couch once and for all. I have to vacuum and/or Scotch Guard that couch daily. Scotch-fur-fighterjpg-fb
I mean, I do not spray Scotch Guard; they have this fur-getter-offer plastic thingie that works really well, but you have to buy new pads for it which I am certain is good for the environment. Yellow plastic toothy grabby hairy flaps will be here in 5,000 years and we will not.

It's an inconvenient truth.

At any rate, the part where I yell at the dogs, "Off the couch!" 95 times a day has not been that fruitful. They get off the couch, sure, but then they get right back on.

But yesterday? My Sofa Scram came. I know!

It's this pad you lay across your couch, and when a Schnauzer goes to jump up there, it goes BEEP! and it's supposed to disturb the SHIT out of your pet. In fact, that's its slogan. Guaranteed to disturb the SHIT out of your beloved pet! Buy one today!

I was so excited to get out the Sofa Scram and watch it in action.

Nobatt Yeah. Why must EVERYTHING come without a battery? It's just rude. Did they TELL me it needed a battery when I was online purchasing this terrorizing item? No. The other day I got a Swiffer Wetjet (WHAT ABOUT LOVE! Every time I see a stupid Swiffer Wetjet I sing that song. Good advertising, people of Swiffer) (even though, really, what does a mop have to do with love?) and after I pushed the squirty knob–which I know sounded dirty–850 times, it finally dawned on me that it, too, needed stupid batteries.

I hate everything.


So even though it was early evening and Edsel knew PERFECTLY WELL it was walk time, I headed out to the Office Depot, there, for a stupid 9-volt battery.

Perhaps when you think, "I need batteries" you do not immediately head to Office Depot. But I have incenative, as my grandmother would pronounce it, to go there.

Feedkitties What could my incenative be? Could it be…OFFICE DEPOT KITTIES?

I didn't, you know, shake this bag or anything, or call, "Kittykittykittykittykittykitty…" 900 times, hoping anyone would show up.

As an aside? When I got Anderson Cooper? Marvin went with me. It was just a fluke; he was obsessed with that Greensboro bear that was loose, and he called me in a growly voice, "Hullo. I'm the BEAARRRRR. In your YARRRRRD." Who continues to adore himself? So I said, "You know, I'm headed to a perfect stranger's house to get a kitten off Craigslist. You wanna go with me?" And he stopped being a bear and came along.

The point is, when the lady handed over Anderson, and Marvin had to pay the $30 "rehoming fee" (whatever) because I had no cash on me, she said, "I am so glad a normal person is taking this cat. You have no idea how many cat ladies called about him."

Fortunately we got out to the car before Marvin let loose about that one. "Oh yes! Thank God no CAT LADIES got this cat!"

Also too, Marvin is in love with Anderson Cooper and keeps insisting that because he paid for him the cat is technically his. He steals another cat from me he'll be pulling back a stump.

Back to Office Depot–where I was NOT BEING A CAT LADY AT ALL–in the distance?

Okay. Now, a normal person might not have seen Ink Jet over there. But with June's super-looky cat vision? Here is how cats appear:

I can spot 'em anywhere.

Eventually he made his way to the dish, as did Sharpie.

Mousepad Cats fed, I bought my stupid 9-V battery and came home to scare the bejeezus out the dogs.

BatteryNormally? All these dogs want to do is be on the couch with me, so I kind of thought I'd see the result of this exciting purchase tout suite.

But no. Suddenly it was crucial that everyone wrestle among the stuffing.

And then Talu SAT ON THE FLOOR.

Oh for the love of–Edsel put his head WHERE THE SCRAM THING WASN'T. Then?

Edsul try nu bed.

Why was NO ONE going on the ding-dang couch!?!

Shelv good enuf for rodgddur.

I mean, did they just KNOW something bad was on the couch?


Yeah. So there must be a weight limit. Do not purchase this item for your pocket pooch, is what I am advising.

So everyone's effing with me. I KNOW the thing beeps, though. Because I sat on it without remembering it was there.

…Did I mention I hate everything?

(P.S. Happy birthday, dad!)

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

In which June is fat and incompetent and obsessed with her pets. In other words, nothing is new.

I am so sick of my fat ass I could puke. Seriously. This is the fattest I've ever been, and I was blaming it on my migraine meds, but lately I've been taking my migraine meds every other day to see if it made a difference?

Yeah. It did not.

Remember when my headache doctor said, "Those meds don't cause weight gain. Could it be your calorie intake?" I hate the medical profession and their emphasis on stupid logic.

So I'm thinking of finding a 10k to run in a few months, so then I am forced to train. What say you?

In other news, yesterday was the stupiest day ever. I had this big assignment for work, and it was due by end of day, or EOD, as people need to say, and I had the day before yesterday and yesterday to do it. I was really worried I would not get done on time, so I started with gusto and by yesterday at 11 a.m.? I was done.

Done! Yay!

I decided to be all extra super efficient, and compare my document to the last one done in May, and when I did so?

I lost my document. LOST IT. LOST. Like the TV show. It was that confusing. Somehow I had REPLACED the document and a polar bear showed up.

Oh it was awful. I called IT (all IT departments detest me) but there was nothing they could do because I had been working on my desktop. So I had to start ALL OVER AGAIN and get done in six hours what I had done in 11.

But I did it. I was cranky and exhausted but I did it. One of my favorite coworkers, who I will call Vilhelm, because that is not remotely his name and we had come up with some ludicrous last name for him too, should I ever mention him here but now it is wiped from my brain, came over and sat on my desk at about 4:00 yesterday, obviously ready for a chat.

"Really?" I said, as he sat, never looking up from my stupid task. "REALLY. You think Ima TALK to you right now?" And then I did. Because I have the work ethic.

Computer things always happen to me. Does anyone remember the time I turned my whole screen upside-down?

I have to go, so I can screw up something else at work, but here are pictures of my pets, because you guys are never satisfied. "June, why can't you photograph your pets in the middle of the night when you wake up and find them being cute?" "June, it's been TWO DAYS since we saw Tallulah!" "June, can you take the cats to Pluto and photograph them there?"

I was leaving for work yesterday to have that hideous day, and I noticed everyone in the window saying goodbye. Edsel is in the next window, on the right. See his spindly leg? And yes, I did go back and shut the window. Although I pity the fool who'd try to crawl through there with Talu on guard.

Hiding andersun hideeng. what you meen i not brown?

Rullyhideeng rodgder hyde too. what you mean i not patterned like rownd Dr. Seuss flowers?

Daycarerully I may have said "dog daycare" in order to elicit this head tilt from Eds. Who is the world's meanest dog mom?

Youdonotmeanit Lu know you not mean dog daycare. it late. mom suk.

Have you ever noticed there is stuffing on the floor at all times? Also, I really enjoyed finding my SHOE out. Edsel also ate the pink shoe that that guy at the airport tried to claim was his. I cannot win.

This does not mean I do not want y'all to get me a bulldog puppy. My birthday is a month from today. Gives you PLENTY of time to save up. I think bulldog puppies are like a thousand bucks.

Okay, waddling to work.

June's stupid life · My pets · Science

In which June did not blow up

I am still here. On this side of the grass.

Here is the grass I am on top of, and also the gas man’s truck. Oh, and look. A jogger. BARK! BARKBARKBARKBARK!rrrrrrrBARK!

What if you hadn’t read yesterday’s post? So far this whole thing would make no sense.

Anyway, my pilot light was out. That was it. How was I supposed to know that was it? And the gas man, who was very nice, lifted my stove top to show me the pilot light, and also 80 pounds of cat food, popcorn and spaghetti. The only things ever to go near that stove.

I guess the cat food got in there because I used to feed the cats atop the fridge, and some of it must have gotten knocked through the burners. At any rate, it was disgusting in there and quite the archaeological dig. While the gas man searched the rest of my house for gas leaks and/or valuables, I scrubbed that under-the-stove-top area like a madwoman.

So I lived. I enjoyed meeting the gas man. He was the bomb.

In other news, guess who is cute.

Whybosserwhy you bozzer?

Anderson always looks snooty in photos, but really he is the sweetest kitten I have ever had. All he wants to do is be held and petted and he doesn’t even detest being kissed on his noggin.

In the meantime, Roger, who is so cute you just want to squeeze him constantly, wants nothing to do with me. I pet him and he shirks down. I HATE it when you pet a cat and he does the shirk-down thing. The only time you can really dote on Roger is when he’s sleepy. Otherwise he is a busy executive with no time left for youuuu.

Isocurious This morning, Mr. CEO decided he was interested in where dogs go. It was never interesting before, but today it was. Also, who needs to clean the outside of that door?

Look what in heer? echoos! echoooze! helloooo! watereeng canz fun.

Explore andersin come too, but onlee cause everyone doing it. yes, andersin wood jump off bridge if everyone else doing.

That was about as far as they got before the dogs saw them and chased them back in. The dogs have always been just terrible to any cat in the back yard. Inside? Cats are friends. Outside? We chase cats. Whatever with dog logic.

I must go and get ready, as I do not wish to be late for work two days in a row. On the first day, my house was blowing up. On the second day, I was posting kitten pictures.

Thank goodness Roger has an impressive job, in case I get fired.


June's stupid life · Science

This post’s a gas

So I'm over here waiting to blow up because I think I have a gas leak. I just woke up and smelled it.

Well. That isn't true. I woke up AN HOUR AGO because stupid stupid stupid Edsel felt the need to scream at every morning jogger and dog walker, which in this neighborhood is 9 million people. This is a neighborhood of the earliest, perkiest risers you have ever barked at.

Who invented Edsel?

At any rate, I have called the gas company, and could they have been more dramatic? TURN NOTHING ON OR OFF! DO NOT EVEN HANG UP THIS PHONE! WE WILL HANG UP! And I was all, "You hang up!" and they said, "No, YOU hang up!" and then we giggled because we were both still on.

What did Laura Ingalls Wilder giggle with Ida Brown about? They could not both hang on the phone all afternoon. "Laura, get off the phone. We have to twist hay."

I worry way too much about how Laura Ingalls Wilder did everything.

So now I'm waiting for Mr. Gas Man to arrive, and I'm supposed to be OUTSIDE, AWAY FROM THE HOUSE, but please. How Ima drag all my pets out there? If they're blowing up, I am too. I have all the windows open, though, so we don't just all happily gas ourselves to death right now.

Oh! And in other less explosive news, look what I saw yesterday:

Chickenrik 003
Roger managed to scramble up to the window thing that all my cats used to sit on. Yay! I have cats again. Isn't he getting big already? Every time I look at him he looks bigger. I think he is part mountain lion. Particularly because he dragged a deer carcass home the other day, and he keeps killing the joggers.

I guess the gas company, for all their drama and intense violin music accompanied by those really high piano keys, is not exactly racing over here at a breakneck pace. Won't they feel bad when all that's left of this house is a few shingles and some large hair.

A very Lyle Lovett-looking man is walking by, his legs all long and cranelike. I guess he isn't the gas man. There's no way I'm letting anyone into my house wearing shorts and black tennis shoes, anyway. We have standards here.

Oh, and men? If you have fat, hairless legs, please do not wear shorts and huaraches. I don't CARE if it's hot out. And it's not hot at the airport, I can assure you. I will do my best to not sport a bikini if you abstain from the huaraches after 40. Or ever, really. Huaraches.

Who invented huaraches?

When they say turn nothing on or off, can I still turn the world on with my smile? Also, can I shower? I do not really wish for the gas man to see me in my pajama bottoms and Burbank tshirt. If you live in Los Angeles you will know it's funny that I have a Burbank tshirt. I found it at the RiteAid in…Burbank.

Basically it is not cool to live in Burbank and there would be no reason to sport a tshirt saying Burbank, is why it's funny. See. And now Ima DIE in it and I do not wish to be remembered this way. I guess as soon as I get in the shower Mr. Methane will arrive, so I had better not. Plus also, if I blew up and was NAKED that would be even worse than dying in the Burbank shirt.

Dying of gas poisoning is boring.

I guess I'll write you if I live. If not, this will be my last post. I am gifting you all with an inflatable June.