Almonds and mint

I still feel dreadful. Should I go to work today, or not? I feel bad because The Poet who sits next to me is coming in today, and she usually has Fridays off because she is a fancy poet and has some kind of fellowship or something. On Fridays she is supposed to be home being deep and poetic and so forth. Instead she is coming in in case my arse dies, which it might.

Rose are red

Violets are blue

June sucks

My throat is still killing me. Has it been 72 hours? I know you are supposed to go to the doctor if your throat hurts for more than 72 hours. I learned that when–guess what–I did NOT go to the doctor and it turns out I had strep and then the dang strep wouldn't go away. That was a good time.

Obviously it eventually went away. I am not over here blind from scarlett fever or anything. Like Mary Ingalls.

Did you ever see a real picture of Mary Ingalls? She was so pretty on that dumb show, and yet in real life? Not so adorable.

MaryIngallsnotsofresh Hi. I'm Mary Ingalls. What I have is some body in my hair.

Poor Mary. She needed Wen.

WHICH, by the way, I purchased yesterday and I hate my own self. But I was sitting there aching and throating and sleeping off and on, and when I wasn't sleeping I ached and throated watching the Michael Jackson trial. Which is riveting.

At any rate, at some point the infomercial for Wen came on, and I have watched it 848393 times. I watched it when Melissa Gilbert touted it (so why she didn't tell Mary about it is beyond me) (and you know how I enjoy it when people confuse that idiotic show with the good books) ("There was no Albert!?") and I am watching it now when they show the woman with fine blonde hair and the black woman whose hair looks like mine.

Maybe I am black and no one has told me.

 

Wen

Anyway, in the commercial everyone has fabulous hair and y'all know I rarely have fabulous hair. So I got the dang stuff. Did I mention I am poor now that I live alone? I DID email the statistics textbook company to ask when another book needs proofing and–yay!–I get another one in two weeks.

So get ready for me to complain about THAT every second until that sizeable check rolls in.

Anyway, that is how I am justifying my big $30 purchase of Wen. And of course if I like it, I have to find a way to continue to justify my use of Wen.

We'll wait for the day wen that happens. BAH!

Do I get the almonds with my order? What about the mint leaf? Ima SUE if I don't get the almonds and the mint leaf.

And by the way? If you were thinking of just lying around at home ingesting Propofol? Not such a good idea. Poor Michael Jackson. Did you hear that terrible audio of him slurring his words?

 

It just occurred to me that I'll bet I'm allergic to Wen. You know I am allergic to everything with a scent. Why can't I remember these things until it's too late? Earlier this year my mother brought over Cindy Crawford's Meaningful Beauty, the stuff where Cindy Crawford is out in a French field rubbing melons all over her face, and I could not have been more allergic.

Well. I guess it could have KILLED me. That would have counted as "more allergic." But my throat got all closey and my eyes watered and basically it was Meaningful Anaphylactic Shock, is what it was. That brings all the boys to your melons. Is what it does.

I guess I had better shower and see if I can drag myself to the workplace. At least it's Friday. It is Friday, right? I'll show up in jeans and it'll be Thursday.

Throatily,

June

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The “giant slot” drinking game. Oh, snap!

100_0483
You see this picture? This fairly boring picture of my cats wrestling? Could you do me a favor and enjoy the CRAP out of it, please?

I came home for lunch yesterday, as I am wont to do, and when the kittens startled their shenanigans I took this picture and thought, This might be cute. Ima take the little memory card thingamabob out my camera and put it in the convenient slot on the side of my NEW COMPUTER.

On the right side of my NEW COMPUTER are two slots. One teensy one for the little square memory card and one giant slot right above it for DVDs or CDs or Sandra Dee or whatever.

Now, see. I could make so many friends-of-mine-who-are-slutty jokes about the giant slot, but you never know who reads this blog. Just recently I got an email from a woman who was the secretary at a place I worked in 1988. "I just love your blog!"

I'm all, "How the Sam Holy Hell did you FIND my blog?"

"I'd heard a rumor you were dead, so I Binged you. And there was your blog!"

Now, I am not in any way insinuating that this woman, who was lovely and not at all a slut as far as I could see, would be the brunt of my hilarious slutty-friends jokes. I am just saying. You never know.

Wait. Why was there a rumor I was dead?

So, there I am, not dead, putting my teensy memory card thingie on the side of my computer, and you know what I did? Do you? WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP ME, THEN?

I put the teensy square into the GIANT SLOT accidentally. Well. Obviously it was an accident. Because who wants to end up panicking and Googling (or Binging) "How to get teensy card out a giant slot" and reading "You EEEEEEDIOT! Were you DRUNK? How'd you do THAT?" on various sites and so forth? Who? No one.

Is there anything worse than those snooty I-know-everything-about-computers people? I mean, snooty I-know-all-about-grammar people are FINE. Perfectly acceptable. But COMPUTER know-it-alls? Insufferable.

I emailed Daniel Boone, who may or may not be one of those I-know-everything-about-computers people. "Your ineptness with computer things is really cute," he said, the novelty of my personality not yet worn off for him. Then I told him that I also had a dead iPhone, as I may have, you know, dropped it in the toilet this weekend.

I think that was the last I heard from Daniel Boone yesterday.

I went back to work and my boss, who is good with computers and would never stick a teensy card in a GIANT SLOT, said I should (a) try to shake the pee out my computer when I got home and (8) go to the Apple store and say my mom stuck the teensy card in the GIANT SLOT, so that the workers there would not laugh at me.

Shaking the pee out my BRAND-NEW COMPUTER did not work, so I went to the dang Apple store.

And? I also brought my toilet-y dead iPhone.

Why does everything happen to me? Am I JOB?

I looked cool walking in with my huge computer screen while everyone else had a sleek laptop. It was like I was lugging a Mastiff into a roomful of Schnoodles.

For the record, I don't actually know what a Schnoodle is. A poodle mixed with schnoo?

The entire Apple store was filled with 27-year-old sort of nerdy hep males. They all kind of look like they might write for The Simpsons. And I, too, am hep, with my reference to such a current show.

"What've we got here?" a sort of hot Asian guy with horn-rimmed glasses asked me.

"I stuck my teensy card in my GIANT SLOT," I said. "Oh, and here. I dropped my iPhone in the toilet." I slid my phone at him. It was less an iPhone and more of a pPhone at this point.

"Oh, snap," said the Asian, and I now wish to use "Oh, snap" all the time. "Let's set you up with one of our geniuses."

Well, that was nice. That they have geniuses, I mean. Do you have to take an IQ test when you apply there, or…?

So I waited till it was my turn with a genius. I watched a cute little toddler with a pink cast get a crush on this little boy who had a microphone that he kept tapping and saying "Test, test." I mean, he was three, tops. How did he know this move? Is his dad Lenny Kravitz? Also? Welcome to my 1990s references today.

The leg-girl/Kriss Kross romance ended in tragedy once the microphone kid was told he had to leave and he threw himself on the floor and test, tested his mother's patience. Finally the genius, who just looked like a chubby guy with a beard, came to help me.

He got the teensy card out my GIANT SLOT in .007 seconds. He used a piece of tape and went up in there. What a genius!

My phone?

Dead.

Morte.

The fat lady has peed. On her own phone.

So that sucks. They told me I could buy a whole 'nother iPhone or call AT&T and see if I could cancel my contract. Which is what I went home to do after I lugged my Mastiff/screen back to my car.

Oh, one good thing to come of all this is that they had tutorial hints on the wall? And I learned how to do this: a.

Crap!

Wait. aaaaaooooooooooooooo

Crap! According to what I learned last night, you just press down your "a" key and it gives you options of choosing an "a" with various accents over the top. Same with the "o." Why didn't it work? Maybe I'll stick a card in my GIANT SLOT and see if that helps.

Anyway. I called AT&T to cancel my contract and ended up getting a phone that is (a) not an iPhone but (7) is faster (4G instead of the lowly 3G I had) and does pretty much what my iPhone does. For some reason I got it free, AND my monthly payments are lower now, too. So really that did not work out to be so bad.

I was really tempted, when they led me to the website where I could pick out another phone, to get this one that had a gem on it? And when you get a phone call? Or a text? And the only person who ever texts me is Hulk, and usually that's a sext, but whatever. When you get some kind of incoming message? The gem lights up. And it's specifially made so the gem hangs out your purse.

Seeing as I am not 17 nor Pia Zadora (hello, again, '90s), I did not opt for this selection. I got the Intense or the Intrigue or the Interlude or maybe it was called the Fascinate. I don't even remember. All I know is I need a new phone cover because that is very important.

Oh, and if you know me in real life, I no longer know your phone number, as all your info is basically eau de toilette.

So that is the story of why I should not be given electronics. Or indoor plumbing.

100_0483
I thought we'd better enjoy this snapshot again. I WENT TO A LOT OF TROUBLE TO GET THIS TO YOU.

Love,

June

P.S. Giant slot

In which June abstains from playing with her webcam. Umm-hmm.

Do you want to know who I am annoyed with?

Photo on 9-26-11 at 8.09 PM #2
Old Ruffy McWoof, over here. And yes, we ARE being haunted by a pink ghost. Who cannot stop playing with her webcam effects?

He kept leaping off the bed to BARK!BARK!BARK! at who knows what out the living room window all night. Who wants to muzzle that dog like he's Hannibal Lecter? Although I guess Hannibal was able to talk, or bark, still.

Photo on 9-26-11 at 8.09 PM

i sorry, momm.

Sigh.

In other pressing news, I am catching a cold. I blamed Dick Whitman for this, as he had a cold when I saw him late last week, but then Marvin called me last night and he was all stuffed up. I just saw Marvin on Sunday.

The REASON Marvin called me is because my stupid iPhone is now broken. Why does god punish me at every turn? I just got my damn computer sitch fixed and boom. Dead iPhone.

Naturally I called Marvin–on my regular phone (I refuse to say "landline." How irritating. Landline.)–to report this incident and I do not know why I do this. Thirteen years I was married to Marvin, and 26 years I been knowing him, and he never just jumps in to help in a crisis. His first response is to give me a pregnancy test. BAH! Get it? First Response?

Oh, I love me. And my sore throat.

No. His first response is to say, "I have no idea. There's nothing I can do." And then you find him an hour later trying to solve the problem. But now that he doesn't LIVE here, I only get the "There's nothing I can do" part. I guess calling him is habit.

"MUFFIN!" I said pleadingly on his voicemail, as shockingly he never ever ever picks up when I call. "My iPhone is BROKEN! Help me!"

When he didn't call back in 45 seconds, I called him again. "Mufffffinnnnnnnnn!" I implored. "It is still BROKEN! I don't know what I did wrong! Fix it!"

Wait. Why did Marvin leave, again?

Anyway, he finally did call about an hour later to say he had no idea and there was nothing he could do, but then he started suggesting things I could try to do, and I said, "Can we talk later? It's the end of a really good Golden Girls."

It was, though. I had never seen that one. Blanche's mammy from childhood had had a 50-year affair with Blanche's dad. Who knew?

Anyway, Marvin hung up, kind of disgustedly, and that was the end of that. And my iPhone is still dead. Blanche forgave her mammy.

100_0473
I leave you with some action shots of Edsel and Roger playing. 

It seems like this whole blog is about me telling you how electronics fail to work for me, but I took EXCELLENT EXCELLENT shots of Roger leaping right on Edsel's head, and they of course did not turn out.

100_0475
Instead, these all look like Roger is horrified of the Eds, and I assure you nothing could be further from the truth. He is always the aggressor in these tussles.

I like how Anderson is in the closet, giving peace a chance. And I detest my peeling concrete floor. Suggestions, please.

100_0474
Who is stampeding to call Animal Protective Services? Is it all of you? "She lets that huge dog bite her helpless kitten!"

As I was typing this, I heard a ruckus, because I'm 87 and say things like "ruckus," and guess who was back at it?

100_0481
It's like War of the Roses, over here.

Photo on 9-26-11 at 8.07 PM
I wish everyone would stop clowning around.

TOONA

The big news is, the cattens got collars this weekend.

100_0467
I know, right? What a fine picture. Again, where is that Best Photography Blog award?

Look. YOU try photographing your kittens' new collar. For the record, it is purple and spells "TOONA."

Who loves herself and her taste in collars?

Anyway, I didn't even know they SOLD collars for kittens, but what was I thinking? They come up with every way to get you to spend money on your pets, all of which I fall for. Of course, Roger can just barely fit in his. He is on the first hole of that collar. One more week and I'll have to get him a grownup collar and June will be having a "TOONA" giveaway.

So to speak.

And I'll have you know I swept and washed that back-room floor on Thursday. Now LOOK at it! Stupid cat litter. I bought one of those litter-keeping mats but Edsel ate it.

100_0469
Here is Anderson's collar, which is purple and sparkly. And no, he isn't up on the counter. What do you mean?

And since I'm on the topic of pets, on a shocking note, I forgot to tell you about the waiting room at the vet's the other day.

Tallulah and her rotund self and I got into the lobby, there, and there was a Cairn terrier, a Schnauzer, a Dachshund, and some puppy. Basically it was all teensy dogs and us. And you know how Talu is such a welcoming figure to the small dog.

But I don't know if she was scared or distracted or if she's a grownup now, the point is she just sat next to me and sniffed around. The Cairn terrier could not have been having more fits about Tallulah. "rrrrrrrROW ROW ROW RooooW RoW!!! Hmmmmm! Hmmmmm! GrrrrrrrROWROWROW."

Could Talu have been more indifferent?

Anyway, eventually this gray-and-white poodle came in, and was the woman carrying the poodle sporting a perm? And was her hair gray and white? And could they have looked more alike? And did I wish I were able to get a picture without her noticing? Because it was killing me.

So she sits down and starts admiring the hysterical Cairn terrier.

Cairn_Terrier_face

Here's a Cairn terrier, by the way. My Pal from MA had one when we were little. Cute. Barky.

Anyway, the poodle lady and the terrier lady got to talking. "How old's your poodle?" "Say, 'I'm four!'" the poodle lady said.

"Say, 'I'm almost four myself!'" the terrier lady said.

"Say, 'I don't bark like you do, Mr. Terrier!' ha ha!"

"Say, 'I'm a drama queen!' hahahahahahaha!"

"Hahahahahahahaha!"

Guess what was bugging me. Was it the "say" thing? Just pretend the dog is talking if you're gonna do that. Don't keep telling the dog to SAY things. Guess what. It isn't.

Also, really? They cracked up because the phrase "drama queen" was used? Oooo, maybe next someone will say "get a clue." HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Really, I would have been fine at that point if Tallulah had snapped every dog's head off and left a lobby of neck nubs.

Say, "I don't have a head!"

Okay. Going to work now. With my cheerful self.

Photo on 9-26-11 at 7.48 AM #2
I'm all bent out of shape.

In which June mentions NEW COMPUTER not at all

Photo on 9-25-11 at 9.42 AM #2
Good morning!

Who needs to get past her webcam? Who needs to not show you her hair in the a.m.? It is bad enough in the p.m.

Since I have been unable to talk to you for reals, what with this lack of computer issue–did you know I was having computer issues?–there is now so much to tell. I hope you have nothing else to do today.

100_0335 heeeeee, mom bizzy on compruter. what we chew, Tallulaa?

Photo on 9-25-11 at 10.01 AM she not DAT bizzy, eediots. don't let her see you or you gotta pose on dum webcam.

Okay, so REALLY. First of all, I went on a date with the Fireman the other night, and it turns out I had said something to make him think I was dating Dick Whitman, and that's why I hadn't heard from him in so long. Everybody thinks I'm dating Dick Whitman and I'm really not. I gotta stop having friends who are boys.

I let him pick from four restaurants in this cute neighborhood near me, and he chose the pizza place. "What could be better than pizza and beer?" he said. Sometimes Fireman reminds me of Hulk.

The thing was? It was totally pretentious pizza. The toppings were like goat cheese, cilantro, a beret and asparagus or pistachio, Proust, ennui and modern jazz.

"I was kind of hoping for, you know, sausage and pepperoni," said the Fireman. Did I mention the reminds-me-of-Hulk thing? "We wouldn't have shared a pizza, then," I told him, "as I would never get hooves and snouts on my pizza."

I'm a fun date.

Anyway, we got basil, pistachio, onion and Sylvia Plath on our pizza and the Fireman ordered sweet tea instead of beer. I guess he wanted to stay sober lest he start doing an interpretive dance or something.

Afterwards, we went back to my house to hang, which makes it sound like we went to my house to hump, but I assure you we did not. Mostly because Edsel has bought tickets to Connecticut so he can legally marry the Fireman.

That was not one of those if-gay-people-marry-what's-next-people-marrying-their-dogs jokes. I hate that argument. Because it's such a logical next step. Gee, if HUMANS love each other, surely they'll love animals next! Really, though, if I had my choice of marrying one of my pets or someone who thinks that's a logical argument, I would take my pet.

It was more an Edsel-is-a-total-homo-for-Fireman joke. I mean, that dog smiled, he wagged, he whined, he cajoled, and eventually he climbed up on Fireman's lap and went to sleep. I am not even making that up.

IMG_1444 oh, dat you, Andersuns? was dreeming it were fireman.

Hey. I may have a new computer but I do not have new photo skillz.

But you guys! I hook up my phone to the NEW COMPUTER? And it says oh, you wanna download these pictures? And then it goes floooooluuup! and there they all are!

Floooooluuop!

So it was a fun date with Fireman, and he said we were not to speak of my hair all night, because he says I am obsessed with my hair–and who wouldn't be? Have you met this hair? But then I was complaining that my bathroom drain is clogged and he said, "Well it's all your HAIR" so HAH! He brought it up first.

Hah! Flooooooluuuuop!

Anyway, then yesterday I schlepped out in the rain to take Tallulah to the vet, where we learned she is a trifle—curvy. Rubenesque. Full-figured.

100_0357you go hell, stoopit vet. no, did NOT order Jimmee John's. what you mean?

This irks me, because I have been giving her less food, and feeding her twice a day, and I think she is (a) sneaking into the closet and munching on dry kitten food whenever she can and (8) bursting into the back room and finishing Edsel's food. So now I have to put the kitten food in a container, and remember to ALWAYS close the gate while Edsel eats, and geez Louise. I have stuff to do. 

Photo on 9-25-11 at 10.26 AM
Like this.

Anyway. After finding out my dog was a fattie, I got my car inspected ("Yep. It's a car.") and finally screamed on over to the Apple store.

IMG_1438
Could there have been more people there? Could they have been mostly teenagers playing on Facebook? Did that irk me at all, because I wanted to actually BUY an effing computer? And when did Topsiders become cool again?

I did get someone to help me, and they were so EFFICIENT! All the guy at the store does is tap something into a phone, then some other young boy brings my computer right to me from the back room. And I PAID for it using this guy's phone, too. For all I know he was a criminal and he just totally stole all my credit card information.

Whatever.

IMG_1441
Who needs your identity and/or a credit card when you have a new computer to play with? With which to play. Whatever.

"Whatever" is a big word with me today.

So now Ima sign off, and go read all your comments, because I know there is a comment of the week I already called, and then I know there are honorable mentions, and can I remember any of them? Will come back and announce the coveted prize when I find said comments.

Photo on 9-24-11 at 6.11 PM make mom stop wif webbcam.

Photo on 9-25-11 at 10.57 AMyesss. make stop.

P.S. Okay. Just Paula–comment of the week (what else is new?). Hulk–signature line of the week. (I know! Now, what now? Is that even a category?)

The new June Brady!

Photo on 9-24-11 at 4.40 PM #3
Hello!!!

Guess who has her new computer? Guess who had to call India and say the eff word to get on the Internet with her new computer? Guess who is on the Internet now and happy happy happy with her new computer?

I wonder how many times I can say "new computer" in this post.

Photo on 9-24-11 at 4.46 PM
My NEW COMPUTER has all kinds of special effects on my new webcam. On my new computer.
Photo on 9-24-11 at 4.48 PM #3
I'm in France! Fingering the Eiffel Tower!
Photo on 9-24-11 at 4.51 PM
AAAACCCK!
Okay. Done playing with effects.
Photo on 9-24-11 at 4.53 PM
Maybe.
Will talk more later. When done playing with, you know, NEW COMPUTER.
Photo on 9-24-11 at 4.56 PM
Marvin is here. Oh, look. He's sporting plaid.

Did I mention I hate my computer?

Blogging from work would be wrong. And that is why I am not doing it right now.

Computer COMPLETELY dead at home. Dead. Dead dead dead. Stick a fork in it. The fat lady has sung. Unfortunately, that fat lady is me.

Cookiesandnowiamhuge
I blame work. If someone is gonna BRING chocolate-chip cookies stuffed with Oreos, what am I to do? IGNORE them? They won't be IGNORED.

Also? While I am not blogging from work? I have had this photo on my desktop for the longest time…

6a00e54f9367fb88340133edb07250970bOh. Wait. That is not the picture I wanted to put in…

Photo(7)Here it is. This is my coworker TinaDoris' puppy, with the toy I gave her. My dogs never once played with this and my mother spent $800,000 on it. You are supposed to put treats in the bottle and the dogs are supposed to figure it out. The dogs reacted the same way I do when I see Sudoku.

So at least Penny, here, likes the rope part. I love her.

I know! June loves an animal! Sound the alarm!

I had better go, because I have to, um, go to work. Because I am not at work already. Nosir. But before I do I want to tell you that (a) I am getting a new computer TOMORROW after Tallulah's vet appointment (nothing wrong with her. Just general shots and telling me she weighs too much and sticking something up her bung to check for worms. Basically she will adore me tomorrow) and (4) I see The Fireman tonight.

Oh! And I was in the spare room, not to sound like The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe, and I saw this outside my window:

Fleur
Oh, piffle.

Fleur
There we go. Geez. Blogging from…home…certainly is an adjustment. 

Anyway, how pretty! In all the overgrown jungle that is my back yard a flower has grown! A flower grows in Greensboro. And yes I DID traipse out there in this driving rain, in case anyone is local and knows of the monsoon we are experiencing currently.

Okay, I'd better…get to work!

 

 

Corncob wisdom

Tallulah ate a corn cob that she found in the road on our walk, and even though I said, "DROP IT!" she did not right away. I mean, you find something good like that, you gotta ignore your mom.

The point is, she then spent the night barfing and guess who got bad sleep and is now late? Late because of a corn cob.

So because I have to go, I leave you with a question: What is your favorite thing about yourself?

Speak.

In which June is not pleasant

Somehow yesterday I got into a discussion with Faithful Reader Siren re her cat's disproportionately huge anus.

Giantassholejustfork
Naturally I requested a photo. She is right. What's going on, there?

Siren said I could show all y'all only if I also included a photo of her cat not being anus-y.

Iammorethanjustmygiantasshole1 momma siren also say ant joon not make me talk like eeedeot under my cyuute picture. ant june promsiss. ant joon ful of dungs.

Note that she is still trying to show off that bunghole even in this shot.

Anyway. I know that should be enough to keep you informed for today, but also want to tell you what the psychic said.

On Sunday, I went to brunch with my friend The Other June, and I am sorry to tell you I ordered fried green tomatoes on an English muffin. There were poached eggs on top of the tomatoes. And then hollandaise sauce. Followed by crumpled bacon.

Why so enormous?

After our light, healthy brunch, I said, "You wanna go over to the nutty granola crystal store and get our fortunes told?" Naturally The Other June was down with that.

What I failed to tell her until we were seven seconds from the front door is that the nutty crystal store features two kittens: a black one and a total Kitler. The Kitler has a big black swoop in the front that looks just like Hitler's brilliant and fashionable 'do, and also a teensy mustache.

And who did not have a camera with her? Was it me?

The kittens are about my kittens' age now, and are they floppy at all? They are so used to people mauling them that you can pick them up while they're sleeping and they stay asleep. Which I may know from experience.

At any rate, I went in first because I am alpha friend.

"Oooo!" said the psychic, who had a huge ametheyst crysal on a chain all nestled in her bosoms. "You've had lots of stay-bility and now you've had a big change."

She pronounced it stay-bility. Didn't irk me at all. But anyway, that part was true.

"You seem to be handling it well." Okay. I'll agree with that. Have not had any Bridget Jones moments of drinking an entire bottle of wine and singing "All By Myself."

Then she told me some stuff about Daniel Boone that was scarily true, which I feel like I cannot delve into without telling you Daniel Boone's every secret.

"Ooo!" she said, and I was really wishing she'd stop with the "ooo" thing. I mean, what if the next sentence was "Get your affairs in order"?

"At the end of the year, you will get a message that makes you say, 'That is it. I will never fall in love again.' But don't listen to that, because right after the first of the year you'll have a big romance."

Oooo!

Also, she said I was going to be okay, moneywise, probably because of the part where I find a way to blackmail Hulk, with his fabulous new income.

She also said if I am offered a trip between now and the end of the year, I should take it.

"I see you in really good health," she said. "Drinking more water and starting a new exercise regime."

Does this torture that Vilhelm is making me do count as a new regime? I was thinking it was more a suicide attempt.

Then she told me I had one of the best readings she'd seen in awhile. So that was exciting. Unless the last person she read was Amy Winehouse or something.

So there it is. My future. Let's all see if it comes true now.

Thesowismine
She did not mention the part where Edsel becomes possessed.

M-i-c. K-e-y. G-o t-o Halifaxxxxxx….

I know that you tune into this blog because I am exciting, and my life is one adventure after another, and I am kind of like Indiana Jones.

Also you tune in because of my current, hep references.

I have not let you down today, and thank heavens you are blowing off work to see what I'm up to, because? Are you ready?

Yesterday I tried honey fig Greek yogurt.

I KNOW! Usually I just get honey Greek yogurt, and yesterday I said, "What the fig."

It was good, too! I kind of feel like figs are the new pomegranate.

Zzzz To wayke us up when mom do something gud.

Okay, FINE. I also got mad at John Stewart, is that more interesting?

I tuned into the Emmys last night, and I wasn't even gonna, but there was nothing else to do. And they were just awarding comedy shows. They showed all the writers of John Stewart's show, and The Cobert Report, and Conan, and you know what pissed me off? On each show, there were at most two women working as writers.

Really? Are we THAT unfunny? I mean, don't take today's post as an example of my stellar hilarity. But really?

In high school, my boyfriend Cardinal and I were both voted class clown, and you know what? Everyone thought he was effing HILARIOUS and everyone thought I was weird. We had exactly the same sense of humor.

Being a girl. It is unfair. Still. I wouldn't want to be a boy, like Chaz Bono. I do not wish to rollerskate backward or go to war.

I would, however, like to be able to pee in the snow. Just once. I mean, I could pee in the snow NOW, but there'd be little chance I'd be able to write "June" in there.

I have lofty goals.

Disneyannoyingworld I leave you with this, which I took with my phone from my car last night.

I already hate those little images on the backs of (usually) minivans where it shows you the stick figures of who is in their family. And if you have these, I apologize, but they are annoying.

So NOW? We have to see who is in your family in Mickey Mouse disguise. Unless this person lives alone and has gotten very attached to her pest problem.

Geez, Louise, I have to go, but remind me to tell you about what the psychic said to me on Sunday. I will tell you tomorrow. She should have warned me I'd go on about yogurt and forget all about her.

June. Prepared for her trip to Windsor Castle since 2011.

If you were up all night worried sick that Talu and Edsel didn't survive their PetSmart grooming, you can now finally toddle off to bed.

AfterthetraumaAs soon as we got there, poor Tallulah started trembling like a banshee. My poor girl. She leaped up on me and wanted me to hold her head. That's what she does when she's scared.

Edsel was happily oblivious.

"Hello, I'm June Gardens," I said, old Shake-a-Puddin' on one leash and smiling Edsel on the other. "We have a 12:30 appointment."

The girl behind the counter started scanning her appointments like a bouncer. Was I on the list? She looked twice, then turned the page.

I had already had an unbelievably frustrating conversation that morning with Citibank, because I had sent them a payment of $150 and it only cashed for $50. I have carbon copies of my checks, so I KNOW it was $150. The person I spoke to, who I think understood 32% of what I was telling her, kept putting me on hold then saying, "Yes, mum. Your checking account will not be charged $150."

"But I WANT to be charged $150!" I kept telling her.

So you can imagine my sparkling mood when the girl at PetSmart acted like she'd never heard of Edsel and Tallulah Gardens.

"They're on the list," I snapped. "I just CALLED here a few hours ago. We discussed what kind of breeds they are, and whether I wanted their fur cut. This is ridiculous." Oh, I was in a lather.

In the meantime, poor Talu got shakier and shakier while she eyed the Yorkies getting trimmed on tables.

Edsel was happily oblivious.

"One moment, ma'am," said the girl, looking horrified of my foot-tapping self. She conferred with the groomers and said, "We can take them."

"Well I should HOPE SO," I ranted, handing over practically convulsing Talu and smiling oblivious Edsel. "Come on, girls," said the receptionist to my dog, which further annoyed me.

Then when I got home I looked at the blog post I'd written yesterday and realized I got there at 12:30 and their appointment, according to what I had written here, was at noon. I had been so bitchy that poor girl was afraid to tell me.

June. Turning into the grandmother who used to make salesladies cry since 2007.

The other good thing, as if anything good has been reported thus far, is that of course it was SATURDAY at PETSMART, so there were kittens to hold and doggies who needed homes. Oh, I fell in love with a giant white Pit who had a blue eye and a brown eye. He was a sweet baboo. With his big big head. There is nothing that charms me more than a big square Pitty head.

I tried lifting him out of there and replacing him with Edsel, but I totally got caught.

I should go, as I am lunching with The Other June today and surprise! am still in my robe, but I did want to tell you I watched a royal family/Windsor Castle documentary last night that was loaned to me by Faithful Readers Chris and Lilly, who have become my friends in real life.

You know, I've made so many friends in real life from this blog. Aren't there any single straight men reading this thing who think I am da bomb?

Why a single straight man would read this blog is beyond me. Still. Why a single straight man would think I am da bomb is beyond me. Still. Why a single straight man would think "da bomb" to himself is beyond me.

Still.

Anyway, when you are a guest at Windsor Castle? And pay attention because that is probably gonna happen, ever. They unpack for you. And pack your bags back up exactly they way you packed your bag. They make a list of what went where. Which for me would be funny. "Wad up that shirt in the left corner. Shove a bunch of underwear into that shoe."

And some idiot has to measure, with a ruler, that all the glasses and plates and stuff are sitting exactly the same. It is very important for me that my cereal I am having for dinner be exactly where I want it on the couch while I watch TMZ.

Okay. I had better start getting cute for my lunch. Going in a time machine to 1989. BAH! Also? I might unpack today from when I went to see Miss Doxie last weekend. Who annoys her own self? I'll bet I even annoy the pets.

Other than Edsel. Who is happily oblivious.

Eau de pumpkin dog

At noon today, the Eds and the Talu are going to PetSmart to get baths and nail trims.

Wherewego we do wut?

I never, ever trim their nails myself because the one time I did Talu bled for six years. And the last time either of them had baths? We had all just elected James Madison to office. Or maybe I was eating a Dolly Madison treat. Whichever.

Could I just take a moment to discuss how much I love Roger's splayed feets? He always sticks them out to the side when he is at the bowl, stealing water from the dogs.

Splay
And yes, that placemat IS disgusting. I just washed it, like, two days ago. What can I tell you?

Oh, and in case you were worried sick, I did get the cats new dishes. June's blog. Fascinating.

Marthasbowls
I am sorry to tell you that I am obsessed with all Martha Stewart pet things. They are all so PRETTY! And $398 per item. I should just arrange for my check to be automatically deposited to PetSmart. Or Martha Stewart.

And soon I will get off the subject of my pets, HULK, but I did want to tell you one more thing. This morning Roger meowed for food, so I fed him a can, but he consumed that in .0009 milliseconds and meowed again. He is far from fat, so I gave him some of his dry food, too.

A few minutes later I noticed he was sniffing my toast that had popped up. "LEAVE IT!" I said, because I can never remember that doesn't work on cats. Anyway, I went over there to bodily remove his arsy self from the toast and you guys. I seriously had trouble picking him up.

He is still a KITTEN. I know that woman from Craigslist gave me a cougar.

Peering "not cooger. you take back or rodger bite neck out."

In other news, and I know you wish I had more pet anecdotes but that is how life works, last night I had a nondate with my unboyfriend Dick Whitman. We went to an art opening, which was exciting for me because my friend Tank the Miracle Angel Baby was gonna be there. His wife works at the gallery.

Excellentshirt Dick Whitman wore the most excellent orange polka-dotted shirt last night. Oh, it was the bomb. It occurs to me now that it's like those sheets of candy dots that you always ended up eating 9 pounds of paper with when you peeled the dots off.

June. Constructing sentences beautifully since 1965.

If you ask my mother, she will claim I talked in 1965, when I was age 0 to age five months. "You talked right away! In complete sentences!" It's like I was quoting Proust from the crib, if you ask mom.

Anyway. The art was cool.

Pinkcool These poor women stood there for I don't even know how long. Next time I get married, I'm making my bridesmaids do this.

Seriously, it made me itchy to watch them. I know this is shocking, but I am not good at the being still when I am told to. Kind of like how I can never NOT giggle when I am at church. When I die–well. I was going to say when I die you can giggle at my funeral. But (a) who is gonna take the risk of bringing that hell-infested thing to a church and (2) I want everyone crying and despondent at my funeral. You know how people get all drunk and chortle-y at the party after and say, "Oh. June would have wanted it this way." No I DON'T. I want you to feel like you can't go on without me.

Anyway.

So we DID see Tank, and also his cute wife, and I also met some of Dick Whitman's friends and we are such a noncouple, meeting each other's friends.

Then we went to dinner and I made Dick W wear a bindi.

Someone at work gave me bindis, and in case you don't know what they are, a bindi is a little jewel that usually Indian women stick on their foreheads.

Namasdick
Which is why I made Dick Whitman wear one. He's right. I DID stick it on him uncenteredly.

Junebindis
I had one too, and it fit perfectly in my Panama Canal wrinkle.

We also gave one to our waitress. Really you've never seen two people get more of a charge out of self-adhesive bindis. So thanks, coworker Jane West, for the bindis. You are da bomb! You are the sacred cow!

I just called my coworker a cow. June. Climbing the corporate ladder since she got a third eye.

Oh, and before I go, I took a picture with my new fall shoes that I wore to work yesterday…

ShooosSeriously. Are they not the cutest? I like all shoes that resemble the shoes mom was wearing in Cat in the Hat. Remember, all you saw was her shoe? It was a good shoe.

Now I sound like Ed Sullivan. And incidentally, to the left of my cute shoes is the bolt of which Roger is so enamoured.

Okay, I must go. I am going to walk the dogs so they can have a nice half hour before the dreadful part of the day. I think this time of year at PetSmart they'll scent my dogs with pumpkin spice!

Why am I the only one here who is excited about that?

 P.S. Sandra is comment of the week. She made said comment 93949393 years ago, but it was funny.

 

This reminds me of the time I had deja vu

Dogs. Up at 5:00 again. June's sleep. Screwed up again.

June. Sick of dogs since September 16, 2011.

Edssik of who, mom? how you sik of eds? i nice. espeshly at 5 in morning.

Because I have to be at work in .0006 seconds and I am here in my robe with Edsel REPEATEDLY dropping his Kong on my foot, I must scurry through my news.

Grace
Last  night was my friend Chatting's book signing. She has written a book called Grace for the Good Girl, about growing up all religious and such, and how she was different from everyone else as a result, and what she's kept from her upbringing and what she's tweaked.

I totally shoplifted a copy. Because I have never been a good girl.

Ring
The most important part of this story is that I loved her cocktail ring. Which is ironic because I don't think she even drinks cocktails.

BabyocuteAlso, the world's cutest, life-of-the-partiest baby was ahead of me in line. She actually smiled at me, which trust me, is rare. Babies sense my evil. Although sometimes they get mesmerized by the hair and forget the evil.

Anyway. Glad I did that. I always feel so personally important when my friends accomplish something big. Yes, I CAN take any situation and make it about me. What do you mean?

Okay, must go. It is approximately 18 degrees out all of a sudden and I get to wear the adorbale fall shoes I bought for this job back in May. Go, silver lining.

June, out.

FYI: My dogs are annoying

The dogs woke up at 5:00 today, which was annoying, and then I didn't fall back asleep till 6:00, which screwed me up when the alarm went off at 7:00. So now I'm late late late and I can only show you this:

Jumpy
Roger is obsessed with this one bolt that's in the wall. He spends many many useless moments in the day leaping after that thing. And I realize it is hard to tell what the Sam Hill he's doing but you try to capture a kitten leaping after a bolt.

I must go shower now and stare at my eyelashes to see if two days of Latisse has made a difference, but before I do, I leave you with a question.

If you had to live on only two foods for the rest of your life, what would they be? I definitely say strawberries, and maybe mashed potatoes. Or strawberries and avocados. Strawberries are in there for sure. Maybe strawberries and tomato-and-onion pizza. But then think of the canker sores.

What say you?

In which June references Mr. McGee. As you do.

Sorry I'm late. I had the NERVE to try to recycle 14 photos on my desktop and you can imagine the 40 dramatic fits my computer had. I'm like Mr. McGee from the Raspberry Beret song. I don't like this computer's kind, because it's a bit too leisurely.

Who is eagerly awaiting her credit card? So she can TOSS THIS COMPUTER INTO HOT FLAMES? As opposed to cold flames.

Also, I love the political correctness of having a recycle bin on your computer instead of just a trash can. You aren't RECYCLING anything. You're throwing it away. Good gravy.

Have I made utterly no sense so far in this post? Sorry.

Whereismyhead I've lost my head.

I love how you can see my purse behind this poor headless woman. Maybe her head is in there.

I really have lost my head a little, though. This morning I knew I was out of cans of kitten food and Sterling/Cooper were gonna be PISSED, but what I also didn't realize was I was dangerously low in crunchy food. Who was setting herself up to be murdered by her own pet family? It was gonna be like that really good show about people who have dumb pets, like bears or venomous snakes, and the story always ends with the stupid person not showing up to work, and all they find are a few Hello Kitty earrings and some hair.

Tunacatzhappy
Fortunately I had a can of tuna.

Tunacatz Yoo lukky, bitz.

Do you know what I really need, now that my freelance money has come in and I do not have to live on $10 as I was doing last week? I need actual cat-and-dog-food bowls. Edsel ate both of his, and the cats knocked their cute yellow and blue flower bowls to the ground and broke them, and really why do I feed these useless animals? Maybe I'll go on Etsy and try to find unchewable, unbreakable bowls.

In other news, my uncle Bill came to town last night, and no, I am not Buffy or Jody.

Billfood
I am, however, totally Sissy. Anyway, he is here for a conference, and what could be more exciting than a conference? Why do they have conferences? Does anyone ever like them? Or want to be at them? Or find them rewarding?

Nevertheless, here he is. I made him go to the Vietnamese restaurant in my neighborhood, and oddly, every single time I have been there I have sat at this same table. I was just there the other day with Daniel Boone. At this table. I in fact emailed this photo to D Boone last night, because it is necessary he be kept abreast of my every move. So to speak.

Anyway it was fun to see Uncle Bill. It's always fun to see one of my relatives NOT at a family function, because you may be surprised to hear this but my family tends to talk a lot, and all at the same time, and about 30% of what you say gets heard, and my point is we could actually speak to each other last night like normal people.

Billlu
He got to meet Tallulah, who I think he's never met before. I took Edsel with me to Uncle Bill's last Thanksgiving, so he had that vastly pleasurable meet-Edsel experience already.

Uncle Bill can make many good sound effects, and he kept meowing like a cat and oh! Did my dogs ever tilt their heads when he did it. "Dis guy. He cat or man person?" They were baffled.

I never said I had genius dogs.

Oh! And finally, I put my Latisse on last night! Miss Doxie emailed me my whole bag of cosmetics, thank all that is holy and merciful, and you can imagine how I did not stampede to the Latisse at all. How do I look? Are my lashes luxurious yet? Are you having trouble reading this with my lashes in the way?

That made no sense. As opposed to the rest of this sensical post.

Okay, goodbye. Am gonna do stupid Insanity workout tonight so wish me luck. I hope my eyelashes don't bend on the floor during the push-up portion of the evening.

 

Old and bling

This computer has crashed already this morning, and I hadn't even officially STARTED blogging yet.

I hate hate hate this computer. I wonder if I have mentioned that?

The good news is, I'm getting another one. There is this fabulous thing called credit? And I applied for some? And I'm getting this:

Oh, forget it. Trying to show you made the computer crash AGAIN.

I HATE THIS EFFING EFFING ASSY EFFING STUPID COMPUTER.

Trust me. Am getting another computer. Enough said.

I went with Marvin to computer shop, as you do. It's traditional to shop for computers with the man who left you. On the day you had surgery. While you were unemployed. And did I mention he went on a DATE the day he left me? While I was having surgery? Go, Marvin.

Nevertheless, this weekend when I went to see the Doxie, he had told me he was going to a (stupid) car show and could not dogsit, so I got my friend Hibiscus Wilson to do it. You can imagine Hibiscus' surprise, then, when she got to my house and there was Marvin.

"Marvin is here," she emailed me.

"What gives?" I asked Marv, because it's 1959 in my head. "I felt bad about the dogs, so I decided to dogsit." I have no idea how Marvin's mind works.

The POINT is, he was stuck here all weekend with this effing effing assy effing computer that is effing, and he felt my pain. This thing is officially ludicrous.

"Let's go to Office Depot first," he said, even though I wanted to go to the Apple store. But you know how I am. The OFFICE DEPOT KITTIES are there.

Marvwkittteez
Look! There's Inkjet, and Mousepad, and Sharpie! There were many others around, too, because as you can kind of see, a woman was there feeding them. Naturally she and I got into a 20-minute talk about the kitties, who I recently called "cattens" when I was telling their story to Daniel Boone, and he said, "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say 'cattens.' "

Whatever. Anyway, you can imagine Marvin's patience while we droned on about the kitties. Who by the way have already been captured, neutered, and released. By other insane people such as myself.

The computer part of Office Depot was boring.

Then finally we went to the Apple store where absolutely no apples were sold, not even a green one. Not even Gwynneth Paltrow's  daughter. And anyway Ima try again and you know Ima get mad.

Computerthatisnotassy
Yay, look what I did! I was able to go to another page, click on an image, save it to my desktop and put it here WITHOUT CRASHING THIS #$#&#&@&@# computer. This computer of many ampersands.

Anyway yes. This is what I'm getting. I wanted fast and I wanted big. Because I am old and blind. I just wrote "old and bling" and I love my own self.

After Marvin played at the Apple store for 43889492020234 minutes and I looked at covers for my iPhone because that is the only interesting thing to do at an Apple store other than go to each computer and call up my blog and leave it there in order to drive business to this fascinating tome, we went to dinner.

Muffinwmuffin
Behold the artist formerly known as Muffin, eating a muffin. And also bread. Have a carb, Marv. They're very slimming, carbs.

So that was my evening. I wait impatiently for my new credit card so that I may purchase my new computer and have a new experience with writing an entire post without having to scream the F word.

Oh! I almost forgot. When I went up to the first computer at the Apple store and started playing with it, Marvin said, "Let me help you feel more at home. Rrrriowchhhhh chhhhhh! Ooooooo, rowrrrrrrrsccchhhhh!"

That is totally the sound this computer now makes when you type ONE LETTER. It PAINS this computer so that I want it to, you know, work.

Remember that scene in Office Space where they take the fax machine out to a field and just beat the crap out of it?

Get ready, stupid assy effing old computer. We're going for a drive to the country.

P.S. Oh my solid pudding, will I ever leave? I was thinking of revamping Pieces of Wisdom but I am out of questions to ask y'all. What kinds of things should I ask? Your thoughts, please.

Miss Doxie’s Emporium of Fun aka Miss Doxie’s

I left my stupid stupid stupid effing giant makeup bag at Doxie's–the makeup bag that not only contains all my makeup so Ima look like a HAG all week, but also my many many keep-me-sane-ish meds, my mouth guard, and the Latisse I stole from Doxie. Other than that? I had a great time.

Yupiamhere
Miss Doxie's house is beautiful, as you can imagine, and something told me I was there before she even answered the door.

Aneverlastinglove
And really? If you want to put the weekend in a nutshell? This will do it. Doxie picking up an Andy Gibb  trash can in a bathroom so I get a good picture.

As you do.

Bo
Having read Doxie's blog for so many years, to finally meet Bo and Gimme was like meeting, you know, Benji and Snoopy. Lassie and Rin Tin Tin. Marmaduke and — okay, I can't think of any more famous dogs. Anyway, I expected Bo, up there, to be more attitudinal but he was really very sweet. And Gimme, who is blind, basically walks around going, "Where I at?" all the time.

  Boluv
So, yeah. Bonded with the dogs. Her dang cat would not give me play. Oh, I cajoled. I dangled toys. I said kittykittykittykittykitty. Nothing. Cat. Hated the June.

Tombstonewitches
At any rate, Miss and her Doxie had a bunch of friends over, and we made witches. Yes, we did. I told her, I am no good at this crafty thing, but I ended up liking mine. Mine is in the back, on the right, with the big white face. She has a purple skirt and glitter on her cape. Of course.

And yes, that IS a tombstone in D's dining room. She got married to her (FABULOUS) (CUTE) (SO NICE) (HE DESERVES ALL CAPS) husband in the cemetery last year. It's a wonderful old cemetery, and yes, I did insist she take me there.

Junewithzombie
I stole this photo from Miss Doxie's Facebook page. All rights reserved, Miss Doxie. Copyright Miss Doxie. Do not steal from Miss Doxie. Unless you are June right now.

Here I am, above, with D's friend Kim, who I similarly loved, using Miss D's ghost meter. Yes, she does have a ghost meter. And I totally missed the zombie behind me. Story of my life.

Also? I had forgotten my stupid stupid conditioner and hair gel, and M.D. had totally set me up when I got there.

Sstuff
Girl, she had everything for me in that basket. She was an excellent hostess. (My toilet paper? Had a ROSE twisted into the end. A little triangle in the toilet paper? Pishhh. Not good enough. I get a ROSE.) Safety pins, shaving cream, Jude Law, $800,000, washcloths, contact solution, teacup piglets were all in that basket.

Oh, if only there had been teacup piglets.

My POINT is, I needed hair gel. Have you met my hair?  I asked if she had any, but she has the SILKY hair. She said, "Look in this drawer for hair stuff." So I was pawing through Miss Doxie's personal hair accouterments when I saw a box of Latisse.

"Dude. You have Latisse."

"Oh, yeah, I never used it. You want it?"

You KNOW I have been obsessed with Latisse for months now. Totally nabbed the Latisse. Except it's in the huge makeup bag that I LEFT AT DOXIE'S.

Oh, and the point is she didn't have hair gel and that's why my hair is so huge in the ghost photo. Wow. Short segue.

Junendox
At one point in the weekend we were looking at an ad that read, "Now appearing at Hattie's Emporium of Entertainment (aka Hattie's)."

I do not know why this tickled us so. But we giggled about this for 48 years. "Oh, thank heavens they cleared up that it's also known as Hattie's! We'd have been so confused otherwise!" So then I amused myself all weekend by saying, "Bo's couch of lounging, aka Bo's couch. June's hair of largeness and coarse action, aka June's hair."

Who loves herself?

Oh! And also too, we went to a lovely restaurant on Saturday night, and could our waiter have been more ludicrous? He was old; like, you know, my age or even older (I know!) (he was auditioning for a Dannon Yogurt commercial after his shift) (bah) and was he into his job at all?

"Our special is a halibut. Do you like halibut? I recommend this wine with it. It has an acidic aftertaste with a hint, JUST A HINT!, of citrus. Perhaps grapefruit would best describe the citrus aftertaste. It has a smooth start, and one could say it's like a combination of a Shiraz and TJ Swann."

He was obsessed.

When we got home, Doxie was giving her dogs a treat. "Would you like a treat? It's acidic, yet combines the flavor of horse with a hint, JUST A HINT!, of beef marrow."

Who adores our own selves?

Doxmcqeen And by the way, I did take pictures of Brian, Doxie's wonderful spouse, but this computer has crashed 394949393 times while I've been downloading photos and I HATE THIS ABUSED COMPUTER.

Nottogomom
I am glad to be back with my ludicrous pets, as once again they were all, "You goin'?" when they saw the bag. Have made a vow to stay home FOUR WEEKENDS IN A ROW. I know! Lofty goals.

Exactly
But oh, I am glad I got to hang out with the Doxie.

Luvwithgimme

June goes to her very special place

I am totally not packed even remotely, because I am well-prepared that way. But I have packed in my MIND. Then? I will get in the car and enjoy my Sirius radio. And a mere five hours later? I will be at my

VERY SPECIAL PLACE.

Do you wanna know where I'm going? Okay, you are probably over this mystery. But I? Am gonna see

Doxie
Miss Doxie, bitches!

I know!

When I first started blogging in 2007, I found Miss Doxie and got obsessed. OBSESSED. She is hilarious, she is gorgeous (which is what matters, in my book), she is a fancy lawyer, and she is not a giant giant asshole from assytown, which I would totally be if I had all that going for me.

I read her archives and laughed myself sick (my favorite one is when her friend got the note: "Please come get your black chicken off of my front porch, because it is really, really disgusting and I just can't take it anymore." Her friend framed said note).

I wish to know all Doxie's friends. I wish to steal Doxie's soul. I wish to be Doxie. If she is reading this I'll bet she is not at all nervous now that she has invited me to stay in her home. Doxie, I just plan to do a FEW charcoal sketches of you sleeping. Then I will be done.

I worried for her when she broke up with her longtime boyfriend, and cheered her on when she met a cute new guy. On her wedding day, I woke up excited like I was going. WHICH I COULD HAVE, seeing as she got married RIGHT OUT IN THE OPEN at an old cemetery. But see how not crazy? I did not go.

So a few months back my friend Laura FRIENDED Doxie on Facebook. "That is so stalky!" I said, stampeding for a friend request from not just me but also Tallulah. Miss Doxie friended us both.

Then a while after that, she emailed me. "I just want you to know I am sorry about all the crap going on in your life. I think you're fucking fabulous," she wrote.

Miss Doxie was reading my blog. (!!!) How in the Sam Holy Hill did Miss Doxie find my stupid blog? I didn't ask, I just wrote her back, and do you know after about two emails, I got over the part where I was emailing my new Barry Gibb and just started hearting Doxie as a real person?

Oh, we emailed like banshees. We have had the best time. And she kept saying, Girl, when you coming to Atlanta?

So today is the day. I will be making out with her glorious doxie dogs. I will be meeting her husband, who thinks we are REALLY REALLY WEIRD for being Internet friends. I am making Doxie take me to the cemetery where she got married. It is gonna be a TIME, folks. A TIME.

Will report back as developments warrant. Or when there is a warrant for my arrest. Either way.