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.


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.

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 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.

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>

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      <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.

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.

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.



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…

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.