Bruce

I had a dream that Daniel Boone and I were walking and chattering like magpies, as we do, when these cups of frozen lemonade started floating down from the sky on teensy parachutes.

"Oh! I read they were gonna float frozen lemonades down," said Daniel Boone, as he grabbed us two of them.

What the hell does that mean?

In other drinky news, I had coffee with my little friend Charlie yesterday, and I really have to stop calling him my "little friend" like I'm Al Pacino, because Charlie is 28 and sexually active and so forth.

Chaz
Here's Charlie and his new orange mohawk. Do you know what I have always wanted to do? Dye my hair cotton-candy pink. I am never gonna be able to do this, am I?

We had a good time, Charlie and me. As I am literally old enough to be his mother (his actual mother is two years older than me), I am able to hear about his peccadilloes with the womenses, which trust me, are plentiful.

He never comes out and says this directly, but I think pretty much every woman 18-32 in the city of Winston-Salem either desperately wants Charlie or has HAD Charlie. In fact, last time AAAACCKKKKKK!

Coffee pot just beeped.

Last time I showed Charlie's picture, someone left a comment. "I know him! I've danced with him!"

Wow. I mean, go Charlie.

So it's sort of fascinating to sit on my lofty old haggard lady perch and hear about all this.

The last time I saw Chaz, I was married, so he asked about my new swinging single life. I told him I have dated, and he said, "I'm going to be honest with you. You really are hot. You should have no trouble, there."

How cute is he to throw my ancient self a bone? I love being friends with Chaz. We are so not even the same demographic, and yet we get such a kick out of each other.

Oh! I almost forgot this humiliation. Charlie took FOREVER to call me yesterday to confirm our plans, and I thought he was standing me up, so I was thinking I'd take myself to this pretentious foreign film in Winston instead. The thing is, I know Dick Whitman likes to go to movies there, too, and I kept thinking I really want to see this movie, but what if I run into him? I will feel upset.

So I called him.

"Hey. It's June!"

"…..Hi."

"Are you planning to go to Aperture at six o'clock today? Because I am and if I see you I'll feel awful. And I know, what are the chances you'd be going at exactly that time, but have you met me? It'd be just my luck. So are you?"

"….No. Are you calling me to say you hope you don't see me?"

"Yes."

So that went well.

Really, though, that was nothing compared to the part where I almost pulled out Edsel's eyelid yesterday.

Dog Owner of the Year! June Abusive Gardens!

As I mentioned this weekend, when four of you tune in, I took the dogs to daycare for an overnight stay because I knew I was leaving a lot. Edsel bursts into relieved tears when I come home for LUNCH each day, so you can imagine how berserk and weeping into his lace hanky he was when I arrived after 36 hours.

We were in the lobby, and Tallulah had stood there like Gallant and let me clip on her leash, while Edsel bucked and leaped and twisted and shouted and tied a yellow ribbon and wrote his congressman and so forth. Edsel's leash clippy thing is not a hook, it is one of those awful kinds that opens like a giant mouth.

So I had the giant mouth thing open and tried to catch his collar? And instead? I clipped the leash ONTO HIS EYELID!

HIS EYELID! The front and the back of it!

"OWWW-OWW-OWWW!" said Edsel. And who can blame him?

And you know what a calm rock I am in medical situations. "OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD! I got his eye!" I screeched, as the workers at daycare rushed over. And then? My throat closed up. I am not kidding you. My throat just sealed shut and I didn't even care. I was so worried about my Eds.

One of the workers grabbed Edsel's head. "He's okay, you just scared him." "of course i scared him!" I whispered, as my throat was the size of a pin.

I couldn't say anything more as I herded them to the car, and the whole drive home I kept looking in the rearview mirror to see if Edsel's eyeball was hanging out on a coil like in the cartoons. When we got home, he had blood in his doggie tear duct! Like a miraculous Virgin Mary statue!

Oh I feel terrible.

It has stopped bleeding and he seems fine, but who has kissed Edsel's eyeball 48 times since last night?

Edsfurgives Edsul furgives.

Tallulah, meanwhile, thought this was hilarious.

"hay, Edsul! we takin' a road trip to eye-ow-a! you coming? heeeeeeeeee…"

"edsuls! Talu turn on radio. you want hear Blink 182? {snicker}."

"howz your weekend clipping along, edsuls? he he he heee!"

Tallulah is the suckiest older sister ever.

So that was my Sunday. Later I'll call you all to tell you I hope I don't see you.

 

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Author: June

At one point, I was sort of hot, in a "she's 27 and probably a 7" kind of a way. Now I'm old and have to develop a charming personality. Guess how that's going.

112 thoughts on “Bruce”

  1. When I lived in Michigan, we had a huge population of albino squirrels. I bet those would take the color really well.
    Also, how is it that everyone named Charlie is automatically someone likeable? (Yes, you can all tell me I am wrong by foisting your hordes of churlish Charlies at me.) All the Charlies I know are pretty much the best people ever.

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  2. I hope floating lemonades have nothing to do
    with Golden Showers.

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  3. Hunger Games! Yay for YA lit!
    Poor Edsel. Got his eyelid pierced. He should keep an eye on you.
    Charlie’s hair suits him. On anyone else it would be ridiculous. I saw a woman yesterday, older than me, who had jet black hair, medium short, with the underside dyed a beautiful shade of blue. It was exotic and quixotic and all the other -otics you can think of. I was jeal to the max. I could just tell she was a fun girl! I wish I had the nerve…

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  4. Thanks Beth! I knew you’d come through.
    Charlie is a cutie with and without day-glo orange hair.
    I guess it’s probably because my own kids have gone through night and day transformations of their former selves, a few times over that I am so tolerant of other peoples expressive outward appearances. Except for my oldest. He’s looked the same for the last 11 years. Just add facial hair and some height.
    You know you can’t judge a book by it’s cover.
    My hair has been every shade except blonde. And I don’t mean brown or red. I mean dark fuschia, eggplant, copper penny, expresso bean.

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  5. OMG, the EYEBROWS! I thought they had been augmented to go with his performance art, but thanks to Beth I can see that they are the real deal. I like him better with the orange hair, he is a cutie patootie.
    I hope Edsel’s eye is better soon.

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  6. Oh Junie, I know how you must feel. Once in awhile, I unfortunately take a step backwards and “MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOWWWWrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!” ..
    The last time I crushed my cat (a few months ago) the “accident” apparently broke a claw OFF on his back paw (sigh). Have you ever seen a broken off, bloody claw?? The vet gave me antibiotics for the cat, who had a slight limp for two days. And that crushed my heart. After the meds kicked in, he was an rotten as usual.
    So I really feel for you..but of course Edsel loves you dearly.

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  7. Oh my – I really enjoyed this and I’m still laughing. And OMG – you are in W-S? I’m only about 20 Min. north of you. I’ve read your blog for a while now and had no idea we are neighbors.

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