Faithful Readers · June's stupid life


As promised, here is a photo of Snow White and Rose Red. Jane West said I could show her face as long as I kept calling her Jane West. Apparently she is Leonardo Di Caprio in Catch Me if You Can or something.


Also, it's Halloween, so BOO. My head hurts. I hate everything.

So because I am over here battling a stupid migraine, tell me your scary Halloween stories. Do you have a good real ghost story? Here is mine.

I lived in a house that was haunt haunt haunted when I was a kid. Go read about it. It is spooky. Or tell me your scary tale.

You wanna know what was scary? Was Tallulah's reaction when Anderson thought he'd wander over to the bowl and see what Lu was having for breakfast today. Now, that was scary.

gurl gots to defend, mom.

Friends · June's stupid life

Snow White and Rose Red eat cupcakes in the suburbs

So, Jane West and I spent 97 hours getting our Snow White and Rose Red costumes ready for our party yesterday.

And just to review, NOT THAT SNOW WHITE.

Different story. I'll bet Snow White of Snow White and Rose Red got PISSED in real life. "Are you that Snow White who lives with dwarfs?"

SnowandroseThey lived in the woods. They befriended a bear. Bear turned out to be a prince. You know how that happens. Snow White got to marry him and Rose Red got stuck with the prince's brother, Harry, who seemed more fun anyway. The end.

Here's poor Rose Red, who brought over a dress dummy, and I am not calling you "Dummy" right now like I am Fred Sanford. She lugged that thing in and I was all "IT PUTS THE LOTION IN THE BASKET!"

I am more obsessed with Silence of the Lambs than I think I am. Also? Perhaps I should admit to myself that it's probably time to put away the mosquito repellent. There in the background you can see where I bought the Earth-friendly natural stuff and then hauled my welt-covered self back to the store and purchased chemicals. Do not write me to tell me to buy that Avon stuff. I have no Avon lady.

Anyway, not only did Jane West bring a dress dummy, she brought a glue gun, a sewing box, wire cutters, that guy Tim Gunn from Project Runway who says, "Make it work" — the bitch brought everything. She assumed I'd have none of this stuff. I.AM.SURE.

You can imagine how a bag full of leaves, silver and gold dangly things, and plastic bags did not interest the kittens in the slightest. I was in here adjusting the music or something and I heard Jane West say, "Drop it!"

"You can't say 'drop it' to a cat."

"Yeah, I guess I know that."

Uncat people are funny.

It was kind of me to insist we work in the same room as the litter box. That's me. Always thinking of my guest.

After about 90 hours of Jane West burning herself with the glue gun repeatedly (it was like I was hanging with James Brown. "OW!" …."OW!") and me idly clipping a flower every once in awhile, we were ready to go.


100_0658I had a bird in my hair.


You'll be amazed to hear that thing went in there with no effort. It was like my head is meant to be a…bird's…nest. Oh, hell.

I am one shopping cart away from being insane, aren't I?

Here is Rose Red at the party; for some reason she is shy about having her face on my blog. As I am. People at the party took pictures of the two of us together, and I do not know why they haven't stampeded to email them to me this morning. What about MY needs? Note the Hello Kitty Band-Aid I had to give her for one of her glue gun injuries. Nothing says, "I am a wood nymph in the 16th century" like a Hello Kitty Band-Aid.

Also, when we were getting into the car, we were all, "The BIRD on my head is knocking into the car roof" and I pointed out that the real Snow White and Rose Red must have run into these difficulties all the time.

In the meantime, there were other tasteful costumes there.

Am certain Mr. Walt Disney would not approve.


Oh, good. Do you have a website in case I need you later? BAH!

But I did meet someone special last night. Someone I could not get enough of.

"Where did you get that dress?" she asked me, as though she were headed out to Ross Dress for Less, to Single White Female me as soon as humanly possible.

"Well, it's really my nightgown, and I spent a long time gluing these flowers to it," I said, throwing the blistered Jane West under a bus.

"It's really pretty," she said, touching a rose.

"Thank you," I said, "I like your costume, too." I mean, she had sparkles, she had layers, there was a princess involved on her necklace. What wasn't to like?

"Do you like my necklace?" she said, whipping out her medallion, there. She told me who the princess was, but of course I've already forgotten. What I remember is the princess had SPARKLE HAIR, and my new favorite person at the party and I both agreed we want sparkle hair in real life.

I got up at one point, and she said, "Where are you going?"

"Well, I was just getting off the floor to sit with you on the couch, if that's okay."

Girl, we gabbed about just everything. And if it's disturbing I had much in common with a–well, how old is this child? You know how I have no idea about these things. What is she, four? Twelve? Anyway, the fact that we like all the same things probably means that she is incredibly mature. Also, am getting pink glasses tout suite.

Oh, and when she left? Pink leopard coat. Enough said.

The food was fabulous, by the way, and the decorations left no stone unturned. This here is a brain made with raspberry Jello. It was a raspberry br-ain! The kind you find at a Halloween bash! Raspberry br-ain!

It was cold out last night, so I wore tights and a 1960s slip that I got at my friend Kit's store. I totally want to go around in 1960s full slips now. They're so sexy and you feel all Elizabeth Taylor in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Without the part where Paul Newman is mad at you and glowering at you with piercing eyes.

I have to wear this whole ensemble again to work tomorrow, so I'm glad I didn't stain it with raspberry brain or anything. If anyone else in the world EVER gets up and EVER sends me a photo of Snow White and Rose Red together, I will post it tomorrow. But be sure to complain about it today. Because I love busting out a whole post and then hearing about what I DIDN'T do. LOVE that! Not gonna send the guy with the ax over or anything.

100_0692Rodgur not to care it hallowiin. bring in girl catz to rogur bachelor basket, pleez.

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

Happy little banana pudding

Gut morgan, .16 Saturday readers! Please do not go out and gut anyone named Morgan.

You know what I should do? I should save up a bunch of fascinating stuff for Saturday, to REWARD the .16 Saturday readers. Sadly I just thought of this idea and have nothing fascinating, as opposed to, you know, ever.

I slept in. I went to a party last night, and also had an accidental date, thereby violating my man break without meaning to. My friend Caren had a Halloween party, and I guess I already told you that part, because I mentioned the costume-optional part. I talked my next-door neighbor Peg into going as Bob Ross, that ludicrous artist from PBS with the happy little clouds.

PegrossSee what a great job she did? I did not bring my camera to the party, as I was off on my {surprise!} date and it threw me off. But Peg is an artist in real life so I thought this was a hilarious idea and I continue my great love affair with me.

Anyway, it was a potluck, and you know I enjoy those because it means I get to eat real food. I made the left turn into Harris Teeter and brought pretentious cheese and crackers. June. Always a welcome guest at a potluck. And if there is anything Marvin left me with, it was that "I made a left turn" line. It was more effective when we lived in LA and making a left turn could take 25 minutes.

Oh, there was turkey tetrazini, and mac and cheese (it's the South), and red velvet cake (ditto) and banana pudding (ditto ditto) and those meatballs in the sauce and some kind of teensy biscuit with spicy stuff inside and why am I having to wander over to the Women's section every once in awhile?

And why can't we call a spade a spade? Why can't we call it the "You had banana pudding and you chubby, hon" section? Who we kidding with "Women's"? The "You Bustin' Out" section. The "We're Ready For Your Jelly" section.

Sadly, that made me hungry.

Oh, so yeah. Before that, I went on my date. So, as you know, maybe, I work in what is essentially the basement of my building, although they euphemistically refer to it as they garden level, which slays me. But my whole department is down there, so I never go up, or I rarely do, although as of yesterday I have been made the editor in chief of the company newsletter–smell me–so I guess I'll be wandering around more.

My point is I am down below like a mole or a dragon or a groundhog, and I don't know why I just said dragon. I guess I was thinking of the dragon they had under the stairs on The Addams Family, Spot. And see? All those years my parents said, "It's a lovely day outside (it was Michigan, so they could only use that line 8 days a year). Get outside and enjoy the fresh air. Why do you need to watch so much TV?"

Now here I am, entertaining .16 readers with my Spot references, and yesterday's James at 16 hint with my title. Who's sorry now, parents? If I'd have gone outside more I'd never know who Lance Kerwin is today. Take THAT!

Okay. So this guy from work emails me because a woman we both know at work had told him I am a cat lover, and he is one of those people who cats just WANDER up on his porch (I always wanted to be one of those people), so all week we have been emailing back and forth about our cats and their personalities and Roger's amore and where to get cheap neutering and anyway he asked me to meet him for dinner.

And you guys. A) I do things with people from work all the time. 8) I am used to the directness of "We are on a dating site. This is clearly a communication to see if we like each other." I dunno. B) I am out of practice and am on a break. A) I am stupid.

So I was all, yeah, I'll pop down there after work! I have a party tonight in which there is food but let's get a drink!

And that is how I ended up on a date yesterday afternoon. It turns out I had met this guy, briefly, when a bunch of people came down to my desk one day to take my photo for something. (Mug shot.) (America's Most Wanted.) (Cat pervs anonymous.) (I guess if it's anonymous they wouldn't take my picture. Work with me, here. I'm in a hurry because I slept late and I gotta bang this post out and go do errands before Jane West gets here to get ready for tonight's party.)

Anyway, when he figured out I didn't remember meeting him, he said, "So wait. You just came down here and met a total stranger? That's …weird."

I didn't want to tell him that between this blog and my online shenanigans that 75% of my social life involves meeting complete strangers. I guess when you think about it it IS weird. I do it so much now that it seems normal. Someday I am going to be minced into teensy bits.

Anyway, the best part is when I came home to let the dogs out (who? who who!) and such before the party, and I called my mother to say, "I broke my man break just now."

"Did you pull it too hard?"

"What?" I said. "….NO! My MAN break. MAN break. Not HAND break."

Good gravy. I think the TV was on in the background. SEE!? It was a lovely night, MOM. Get outside in the fresh air.

Oh, and in case you did not read this, book club is NOT tonight, as scheduled, because of the party I am attending. It will now be Tuesday, Nov. 1 at 8 p.m. Eastern time. I mean, if the men of the world can resist me long enough to let me have book club.

I have to go so I'll figure out comment of the week tomorrow. Somebody say something hilarious today so I don't have to re-read a week's worth of comments. Thanks.

I am berserk · June's stupid life · My pets

Roger at 16

You know those annoying days when I have 20 things to tell you?


First of all, I have some news about our little Roger. Remember a few months back, when I got a little innocent kitten?

Babyrog i teensee. also, I be in bucket. ant lauree not put me in bukket. just naturlee in here.

So, yeah. Baby Roger.

The other night I was on the phone and I heard "MrrrrowowOWOWWW!" outside. "I think there's a cat fight! I gotta go!" Poor baby Roger!

Anderson is not one for going outside a lot. He kind of likes to stay in with his mother. Watch musicals. Think about my window treatments.

So I grab a flashlight and head to the noise, which is decidedly less angry-sounding and more "WOW! Wow wow WOOOOW! sounding.

And I shine a light? On…


Roger was totally gettin' him some…you know. Tail. The moon had hit his eye like a big pizza pie, apparently.

And you GUYS. I KNOW! I TOTALLY VEHEMENTLY think you should spay and neuter! I've just been, you know, thinking he didn't need it yet and yeah. I guess I was wrong.

Roger. Heading in to the vet for his fixing. Anderson. Needlessly going as well.

June. Secretly hoping she gets handed a basket of gray huge kittens from an angry neighbor.

In other news, remember my coworker, Debb Killjoy, who sent us all the email on the terrible things a margarita does to your body that night when everyone was going out for margaritas? I swear she is likable other than the whole having-to-be-healthy thing.

Recently I saw on the vending machine that she had lost 50 cents. She'd left a note for the guy who fills the machine with my Mallow Cups and Pop Tarts. Yes, MY. "I GOT her!" I enthused. "Debb! I see you lost money at the VENDING MACHINE!"

"Oh, yeah. I was getting gum."


So, there's a bakery nearby that we've all been talking about, and this past weekend after her NINE-MILE RUN, Debb stopped in. And got–

are you ready? Are you?

–coffee. COFFEE. And she'd run NINE MILES. I mean, she had an EXCUSE!

Coffee. Am force-feeding an extra-value meal down her healthy gullet if it's the last thing I do before my arteries give up on my Mallow Cupped self.

And see? Now we have to stampede to another topic because I am all over the place today. My cat is sexing up the neighborhood, my coworker can eat no fat, I mean, you'd be scattered, too.

  100_0643My pal Jane West and I went to Michael's after work and got our stuff for our Snow White and Rose Red costumes. It turns out like three people have heard of the fairy tale Snow White and Rose Red. If one more person says, "I've heard of Snow White…" Oh, really? Have you? HAVE you, genius? NOT THAT SNOW WHITE. Can't everyone just pretend they know? Anyway, note Roger thinking Anderson looks kinda hot, over there. Note Anderson enjoying the floral arrangement.

I got all white flowers, and Jane West got pretty much the same stuff, only, you know, red. We're gonna glue gun everything to our dresses and be all wood nymphy and we heart ourselves.

100_0641Rodger over the flawers. Got any hot chicks up in herre?

I also purchased a paint-by-numbers kit, because I am ridiculous. And by the way, I never think I'm gonna like going to Michael's and I always have the time of my life. And I've never felt this way before. Well I swear, it's the truth. And I owe it all to Michael's.

You may not be able to see that the package claims it's for ages 8 to 88. I'll bet people who buy it when they're 89 feel mighty stupid when they get home.

I like how I bought a dog to paint. Because that's not at all redundant. And a GOLDEN dog, too. And it's bringing in the paper, just like my dogs do in real life. Ever. Oh, and it's not PAINT by numbers, it's PAINTING by numbers. It's active. Okay.

Anyway. Am looking forward to my artistic journey. This beats my puppet shellacking all to hell.

Finally, I leave you with a ludicrous site that my next-cubicle neighbor sent me to yesterday and which forced me to heave up my Pop Tart yesterday, I was giggling so hard. I do not know where she finds these things but this is the funniest thing possible. Go look. You will die. Incentive!


June's stupid life · Not Grace Kelly

There’s gold in them thar dogs

I was walking the dogs, on a new and unusual note, when this little girl came out of a house. She pointed all enthusiastically. "Mommy! GOLDEN DOGS!"

Now, there's someone who has a future in advertising.

Gold"we not sort of yellow. we GOLDEN. not to forget it, mom."

Note the untouched piece of Harris Teeter kitten food on the floor. Oh, everyone hates me for the Harris Teeter kitten food. I keep saying, the sooner you eat it, the sooner I'll buy the real stuff again. Just suck it up, literally. Gooz.

"Gooz." Why can't I type?

And by the way, something about Tallulah's proud barrely chest kills me every time. Maybe because it's golden.

In other news, yesterday at work, I continued to earn the respect of my coworkers with my brilliance. It's hard to hide this light under a bushel.

I work with a very affable man named Jo. With no "e." Coincidentally, he is an editor, and maybe he picked a job that started with "e" so he'd have an e, you know, somewhere.

We were working on something together and when he came over to my desk, I asked, "Why is your name 'Jo' with no 'e'?"

"Well, my parents are Norwegian…" he started, and you know how I can never let anyone finish a thought.

"Oh, and they don't end your name in 'e' in Norwegia?"



What the Sam Hill is wrong with me? Norwegia. Gooz, I hate me.

I guess that's all the stupid news I have to tell you, except that my neighbor Peg and I are going to the same party Friday, and it's costumes-optional, and we are considering going as Kardashian sisters. I mean, get a black wig, stick a pillow in your butt and you're golden like my dogs.

Namaste, bitches.

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

Eyeing little cats with bad intent

I have no idea what Ima blog about today. I thought I might just ramble. That should be, you know, utterly painful and boring for all of us.

My friend Paula called me last night. She is my friend from Seattle who had the {cancer}. I whispered it for us so it wouldn't get us. Anyway she is still doing fine, other than she called to complain about a work thing and I hope she isn't gonna get mad at me that I just announced that on this hugely popular blog with tens of readers.

It's been over a year now since she had her hooty-hoot lobbed off (official medical term) and the chemo and all that, and she's had to take this pill ever since to ward off future attacks and it's called something. See. Again I can't think of it. I want to call it Tamiflu but obviously that isn't it.

Last night I couldn't think of it, either and I said, "How are you doing with that pill you have to take every day? Sine-Aid or whatever?"

I don't know what the hell is wrong with Paula that she didn't know what I meant. GOD, she's so SLOW. "I don't HAVE allergies," she said.

Tamoxifen. That's what it is. It sounds just like Sine-Aid. Does anyone who doesn't go in a time machine to 1979 actually TAKE Sine-Aid anymore? And now I will be sued by the makers of Sine-Aid because this blog is hugely popular and read by 16 people. Unless it's a Saturday, in which case it's read by .16 people.

Anyway, the answer to the question was it's a nonissue for her. She does great with Tamiflu.

I used to live with Paula, back when I, too, lived in Seattle where it rained and THIS HAIR had to deal with that, and Paula insisted on taping reruns of Hart to Hart every day. Somehow we remained friends despite this.

In other news, Miss Doxie invited me to her Halloween party this weekend, bringing the grand total of parties I have been asked to up to four. One year this other couple Marvin and I were friends with and — you know, I don't know how Ima structure this sentence. I'm trying to say the four of us came up with a costume idea. There.

We thought it'd be HILARIOUS to dress up as Abba. Is it ABBA or Abba? The other woman in our foursome had reddish hair, so she could be the less-attractive Abba singer and I got to be the hot blonde, even though in real life this woman was totally gorgeous and it probably would have been humiliating for me to go to a party pretending to be the hot blonde from ABBA. Or Abba.

Agneta? Isn't that the hot blonde's name? See, if I weren't rambling I'd be looking all this stuff up and you wouldn't have to struggle with me through the Abba/ABBA/Agneta thing.

The POINT is, not one person invited ANY of us to a Halloween party. Isn't that sad? And the other couple were a popular duo! I don't know what was up. Now here I am a swinging Larry-on-Three's-Company-Wilona-from-Good-Times-Thelma-Lou-from-Andy-Griffith gal and I have parties up my hoo-hah. Okay, so Thelma Lou was always with Barney. She COULD have been single if she wanted to be.

Can't go to Miss Doxie's, though. Because it's in effing Atlanta. Why doesn't someone dress up in a June costume and crash it?

I guess I must go get dressed and attend work. Tonight I am doing beginner yoga with the receptionist. She was going to be the only one attending the class, so I told her I'd go even though I am not a beginner, and I'm afraid I sent her an email that read, "You are not alone, as Michael Jackson would say." Fortunately the receptionist is used to bizarre emails from me. Once she sent a company-wide email about how a large beehive had been seen by one of the side doors, so avoid that door, and I wrote her back and told her not to drone on.

God, I love me.

Okay, must go. It has been fun nonsensically talking to you like a homeless person on a bench.

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

June does Pilates. And yoga. It’s like two (click) two (click) two melons in one.

I forgot to tell y'all that I smudged the house this weekend. Not that I had a giant finger and smeared my whole house.

Remember the Colombian woman at work? Who told me my house needed to be cleansed? And she brought me some sage? She also said, "What do you think they're doing during Catholic services when they wave that thing around with the smoke?" You know it never occurred to me. They also wave that thing around during Episcopal services.

So I burned my sage. I had to walk around the house and swirl the bowl of burning sage in a clockwise direction–geez. I hope it was supposed to be clockwise. Now what if I did it wrong and this house is swarming with bad energy?

If the smoke died out, it meant that was a bad area and I had to relight the sage until that stopped happening. Guess the first place that happened? The wall where Francis is buried on the other side. Poor cranky demonic Fran. The smoke also died out over my bed. I had to relight that thing 109 times. Nice. My life is delightful.

I also swirled the sage around Edsel, just to cover all my bases. I mean, come on. Have you met Edsel?

In other news, yesterday at work we were gonna re-start our Insanity workouts, and one would kind of think cleansing one's energy and Insanity are sort of incongruous, but there you go. Anyway for some reason the person in charge canceled it, but The Poet who sits next to me said, "Why don't you come with me? They're having Pilates/yoga in the workout room." She had on her "I cannot resist the demonic beat of the polka" tshirt.

So what the heck. I said I'd do pillyoga or whatever. I got into my Rush tshirt (remember when Marvin dragged me to that dumb concert? And for some reason I spent $40 on a tshirt? Remember when I had two incomes and could blow $40 on tshirts? Speaking of which, guess who is mad at me because he has to eat Harris Teeter kitten food? Could it be Roger? Is he on a hunger strike? Is he gonna get mighty hungry, then? His mom is on a five-for-five-dollar Chef Boyardee Ravioli diet until payday so I don't even wanna HEAR it from his gray ass. OH! He is in a huff) and headed to yoga.

Longest sentence ever.

(Plus, Anderson is fine with it and can use the calories.) (From the kitten food, not from the sentence.)

So, I'm headed off to yolattes or whatever and my coworker Vilhelm Oyster is there after 5:00 toiling away. He has the strongest work ethic, Vilhelm. I am not even kidding. Every time I go over there, he is never fooling around on the Internet. And perhaps the part where I am amazed about that says more about my work ethic, but still.

"Namaste," I say to the toiling Vilhelm, bowing.

Vilhelm ignores me.

I wait.

"NAMASTE." I grouse at him. I won't be IGNORED before yolanda or whatever I'm about to do.

Vilhelm turned from his work. "You better check the quality of that namaste," he said, and went back to work.

I heart Vilhelm.

And by the way, my pilyodeloo teacher was the cutest human ever invented. Why are all yoga instructors hot? I had free yoga at my workplace in LA (of course) and the instructor had buttocks like halved melons. The entire time I was supposed to be getting centered and breathing and balancing and doing that dreadful triangle pose, all I could think was, "That butt is fricken amazing. Look at that melony thing."

Okay, I know all this talk about yoga and namaste and cleansing and hunger strikes has been deep, but I must go Wen my hair now. Oh! And I have to reschedule book club. I have two Halloween parties that night (the 29th) and I have a Halloween party Friday night, now, too, so that's out. How about Tuesday, November 1 at 8 p.m.? Can we do that? What say y'all?


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

Junefir and her pan zither

Puppy-sitting was fun. A good time was had by all.

Rogerabove"speek for self, mom. also, it be nice if gramma get us one of those mud-trapping rugs for chrissmass frum LL Beens. along with twalle tablecloth we ask for yesterday. we just saying, gramma. rodgur from broken home now, gramma. not to feel sorry for rodgur or anything, sitting on disgusting throw rug. Gramma."

YougohellTruth be told, Roger ended up playing with Penny his own self. He is affable. Also, he looks for any reason to kick some arse.

Whyshesoactive"speeking of arse, why dis puppee never get tyred? why she play more than edsul? Did not think Nyone play more than edsul. and yet she do."

Those two never stopped, except to come in and drink water desperately, then dash outside again. Edsel finally knows he can push the door open with his head, seeing as he has watched Roger do it with his cat arm 198 times now, but he will ONLY do it if I go over there and say, "Okay." I look forward to the day he rebels.

At any rate, it was good everyone was amused, because I had freelance work to do, and I was also busy being nauseated by my iron pills. I really show myself a good time.

I did not go on my date. I had a date Sunday, with that guy I met on Tuesday. I just decided I am all worn out, dawgs, and I think Ima take a little man break for awhile. Marvin left in March, and when I started dating in June, the whole idea was to go to dinner here, see a movie there, not date anyone exclusively, just kind of have fun and see who was out there.

And up till now I've done that. I've rarely even had more than one date a week. I didn't intend to get all IN LOVE and attach-y and sad and everything. So it wouldn't be fair to try to stampede to another person, even if he did seem great and even if I do owe him $11,000. We made a bet that "arithmetician" isn't a word.

It is.


Unotscremelu"yer mom's an old maid, Talu. and she wear Nazi bootz."

So, I guess that means Ima have to take up the zither or shellacking puppets or something. I like how the first two hobbies that came to mind are the dumbest hobbies ever.

"What do you like to do?" "Oh, I shellac puppets."

Tirededs"puppee really gone? Edsul exhaust."

Tiredlu"think how tired we gonna be listen to mom practice her zither all time."

Friends · June's stupid life

June is the irresponsible one in the friendship. Hunh.

Edsel has a new best friend, which I would get up and go outside and photograph for you, but then everyone would remember I exist and they would think about coming inside and trust me, you do not want these yahoos inside. Edsel and this puppy play outside for hours at a time while Tallulah and I relax in here and roll our eyes at each other.

In case you did not read yesterday's post, because 12 people read me on Saturday and I for one resent it, I am puppy-SITTING. I did not get a new pup. What am I, soft in the head? Which is what my neighbors thought when they saw me walking her yesterday.

"Oh! Did you…add to your brood?" they all asked in different ways, seeming concerned.

Do I really seem that berserk?

Do not reply to that query.

On other news, I got my roots done yesterday, despite the fact that I had, like, $100 to my name till payday. Again, do not answer above query.


I get my roots done at Party City. Also, in real life it does not look like there is a blemish on my chin. And yet this picture makes me look very blemishy. Why, God?

At any rate, my hairdresser informed me that I am now 100% gray in real life. Thank you! Hooray! I really don't like her all that much. Other than the part where she provides snacks and has a Keurig machine. How can I be 100% gray with blemishes? WHY, GOD?

After I got my roots done and came home and played with Penny and looked at my remaining penny to last me till payday, I drove to my friends Chris and Lilly's farm to have dinner.

100_0598Not wanting to come empty-handed, I brought autumnal flowers. (Hello, credit card.)

And then when I got there, they had beautiful dahlias from their own yard, because, you know, they have a farm. Now I have been obsessed. Had I said I'd bring wine when they invited me? It'd be like me to have emailed, "I'll bring wine!" and then never have thought about it again. Because I suck.

I love going to Chris and Lilly's. First of all, Chris always does everything. Cooks delicious food, serves it, cleans it up, provides ambiance, while Lilly and I do all the chatting. I mean, he chats too. He's not one of those silent husbands. But Lilly and I both had bad weeks, and I said to her, "Thank God Chris is gonna do everything so you and I can sit around and whine all night."

And not only do they have, you know, farm animals for me to oooo over, they have a kitty–A FLUFFY SWEET KITTY…
100_0612and dogseses! The yellow one is the mom and the black one is the son. I am not being my neighbor kids with "Snowflake is the wife and Goldilocks is the husband." They really are mother and son. Also? Totally, completely over me every time I go over there. OVER.ME. Look at the yellow one. OVER.ME.
100_0605Oh, look. There's Chris, doing everything.
100_0606Okay, so it's just the two of them. Do the DOGS wear riding boots? Does Lilly have days-of-the-week riding boots? These and other queries burn in my brain.
Dinner was unbelieveable, and mom, I want a toile tablecloth. For my giant dining room table. Good luck with that.
After dinner, we carved pumpkins, and apparently the invitation said, "Bring a pumpkin!" and guess who did not, and guess who anticipated I would not and got me a pumpkin? Was it Chris? Is he is in late 20s and I am 100% gray? I really have no recollection of the part where I was supposed to bring my own pumpkin. Honestly, it's like I have ADD. Oooo! Do you think I could get Ritalin and get all thin?

What was I talking about? Pumpkins, right.

So, for some reason, we decided to make super-fancy pumpkins. Because I am so skilled with the crafts.

I was gonna put a bird on it. Chris and Lilly were gonna do a fox head and a riding helmet. Supposedly we were going to poke a kind of stencil around the shape and carve from there. 

Have you met me? Seriously, I wonder if we've met. I am June Gardens. I am good at crafts never.

100_0614It was like an installment of Goofus and Gallant. Chris's pumpkin came out looking as it was supposed to. Although in retrospect his fox looks a little like a fox with a Gloria Vanderbilt hairdo. Still.

Mine? Looked like a cyclops eye or something.

100_0615Chris totally had to redo mine for me. Did I mention I am good at nothing?
100_0616Yeah. I don't know if we put a bird on it so much as a helmet giving the finger. So I guess we put a bird on it, sort of, anyway.

Happy Halloween! 

So there was my day.

Photo on 10-23-11 at 10.47 AMAnd I think somebody finally wore herself out while I was writing this.


I am berserk · June's stupid life

June puppy-sits. Also? Puppies. They move around a lot.

I am watching my coworker TinaDoris' puppy this weekend. Her puppy is named Penny. I don't know why, because she seems to have no cents. BAH.

TinaDoris and her fiance are going to historic Williamsburg for the weekend. I told them to bring me back a rich old man. When TinaDoris was considering getting a puppy, she said, "What will we do with a dog when we travel?" and I said, "I'll ALWAYS dog-sit! ALWAYS!" You know how I am.

100_0560rully, mom?

I knew my dogs would be okay with it once they got past the hour and  72 minutes of barking and jumping up and down and Occupying Greensboro.

I never thought I'd see the day that Edsel seemed mature and dignified. I still haven't seen that day. But he seems one rung down from the usual idiot that he is.

And you know who is pleased that I took this gig?


And you may be asking, "What about Anderson?" Please. Anderson who. Although he did get on his usual spot last night, which is right behind me on top of the couch, but as soon as he saw that puppy, he made haste and plans to exterminate anyone under the age of four months in this dwelling.

Roger, instead of just hiding angrily somewhere, has growled nonstop for 12 hours. rrrrrrrrmmmmmm. It's like he's got a battery all of a sudden.


And who wants to be nothing but friends with him? "pennee love grrring dog! come say hi to–ow!" She never catches on.

100_0576why dog wif claw have vendeta?

Also, Penny came with her own toys, which of course my dogs took from her, resulting in her taking their toys, which made them mad so they got their toys, then she took HER toys, then they took her toys away and OH MY GOD is this what it's like to have kids? Because let me just pen a thank-you to my tubal ligationist right now.

100_0586"dis…temporaree. rite, mom?"

Comment of the week goes to Becky H. Anyone who calls a baby a transvestite has to win comment of the week.

Books · Faithful Readers · Health · I am berserk · I hate everything · June's stupid life

In which June might bring up her vitamin D and iron levels once or twice

Am writing you on Thursday night. Edsel is outside barking endlessly at nothing, a thing which I am certain pleases the neighbors and endears us to them all. Usually when he does this I get up and make him come in, but I am so exhausted and spent and sad and OVER EVERYTHING that I am sitting here typing like I don't hear it.

I have just had the dumbest day. Some of it I can't even tell you about for various reasons, but some of it I can.

Remember last week? I went to the doctor in order to score Latisse? And they would not give me play? They did, however, take a blood test to see if I had low iron, still, and low vitamin D. Today they called to say BOTH were worse than LAST time they tested me.

Clearly I am dying. Of a vitamin-D-iron-deficiency disease. And if you think trolling around on the Internet and finding diseases that present by giving someone low D and iron, and then emailing me said diseases with, "June, you should know…" is a good idea, Ima come over to your house personally and slap you with my own liver.

So I have to go BACK on the vitamin D and iron pills, which means I will (a) never poop again and (2) be nauseated all the time.

Yay! Those are two of my favorite emotions! Stopped up and sickly!

So that was bad enough. Then we got our flu shots today at work, and of course who wore something stupid so that I could not just push up my sleeve or whatever? I had to practically show the nurse all my worldly goods, there, to get the shot.

Also, I walked in and she extended her hand, so I shook it. Then I said, "You didn't want to shake my hand, did you. You wanted the paperwork."

"True," said the nice nurse, who looked a lot like my Aunt MaryEllen, "but it's very nice to meet you." Then she jabbed me with a needle. After getting to second base with my obstacle clothing.

Probably I will have a reaction to the shot because I am so dangerously low in D and iron. That is probably the perfect storm of things that cause you to turn into a chicken egg or something from a flu shot.

Oh, and speaking of which, one of the Spanish editors told me I need to be cleared today. I work with many Spanish editors, and they all dress in pretty colors, and have good hair, and basically I feel like a white frump with low iron whenever they are around.

"When bad things happen, especially when you get three things in a row like you got," said the editor, "in my culture you go to the voodoo man and get your spirit cleansed."

My best friend Donna and I are going to New Orleans in a few weeks, and if you live there I love you very much but no. We cannot get together for a special moment brought to you by Taster's Choice. Donna has a fancy job and a husband and two kids and the last time we were alone together was senior skip day in 1983. Okay, it was probably two years ago but still.

My POINT is, who's gonna drag Donna to the voodoo shop for some cleansing and purifying? Also, I will have them turn ONE of you into a chicken. You'll just have to wait to see who.

And was that enough? The iron-pooooah-blaaaad and the lack of D and the needing cleared and the getting felt up by a nurse? No. Many more things happened, and as I said I cannot reveal them due to others' privacy and my job security and so forth, but suffice it to say I went to the kitchen? At work? And there was a new Anne Lamont book on the table. There's a table in the break room that means if it's there, anyone can have it. It's where you put your doughnuts, your casseroles, your kids' things he's selling for a ski trip, whatever. And there was the new Anne Lamont book.

"I LOVE ANNE LAMONT!" I thought, grabbing the book. And burst into tears.

Seriously. Am I going through the CHANGE? I mean, I CRIED over a BOOK. I had to run to my cubicle before anyone saw me. Happy I snagged the book, though.

Then after work I had to go to Target to pick up (wait for it) vitamin D and iron pills, and I was headed to the dog food aisle that they might as well just name aisle June, when indeed I heard, "June!"

And I mean I literally heard "June." It was Faithful Reader Jessica, and I don't even know if she faithfully reads anymore, because she hasn't commented in a long time. But she and I have gotten together before, and she has appeared on this blog before, I mean not literally, but her photo has.

I grabbed her and hugged her and (yes) got weepy. "I'M SO GLAD TO SEE YOU!" I wailed. Her daughter was with her. "HIIII!" I said to the small child. "ARE YOU GETTING HALLOWEEN STUFF?!?!?"

Jessica seemed to draw her kid a little closer.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice catching. "I've had the WORST DAY. You wanna get together soon!?!??!"

"I hope your day gets better," she said, hurrying off. She practically shuttled that kid under her arm like a football.

So. Little emo lately. Is what I'm saying.

Maybe it's the lack of iron.

Oh! And thanks for delurking yesterday, y'all! Don't be afraid to comment. We are a nice bunch. Just ask Faithful Reader Jessica.

And here.

Photo on 10-20-11 at 8.30 PM #2"why we gotta do this all time?"

Photo on 10-19-11 at 9.57 PM"andersun get revengg. oh yes he do."

If I have a crappy day, the cats have to share in it with me.

Faithful Readers · June's stupid life


I have to get to work early to day so I can't talk to you this a.m., girl. Talk amongst yourselves.

Hey, I know. It's been a long time since I had delurk day. Someone delurked yesterday to say they were never reading me again. Who else is out there who has never written a comment before? Come on out. Be not shy. Suddenly I am at a Renaissance festival.

Okay, going now.

Faithful Readers · Giveaway · June can't keep a man · June's stupid life

Shallow superficial June

I have so much to tell you I could spit up. Fortunately, I have no real plans to spit up.

So obviously yesterday I felt bad. Bad bad bad. One of my coworkers said to me, "Your face when I first saw you walk in the door? Has haunted me. Do you need to go out and get a big giant drink with me or something?"

I love my coworkers. I really do. I didn't even TELL y'all about going out with them Friday night. But I have too much to tell you to get off on that tangent. (Someone got an espresso martini and it looked DELICIOUS. She was an awake drunk.)

At any rate, there I was, feeling sad about he-who-must-not-be-mentioned, and having a big cloud over me, and thinking dramatic thoughts. Am I the only one who breaks up with someone and gets the dramatic thoughts? "I will NEVER love ANYONE this much AGAIN! I will NEVER find ANYONE like that EVER. This was it. He was the ONNNNNE for meeeeee! Even though he made me miserable! Wooooooaaaahhhh is meeeee!"

Do you? Do you do this too? Please tell me this is not like how I am the only person whose mouth got numb eating grapefruit and I thought it was a universal experience but instead oops! I am allergic to grapefruit.

But guess what. Guess what happened. On Monday? When I told y'all about how things were not gonna work out after all with HWMNBM? I got an email. I mean, I got a lot of emails, from my real-life friends, and from all of y'all, and basically everyone was the bomb.

But this was a special email. It was from a woman who had briefly dated Daniel do-not-mention, and apparently he had told her about my blog. "I only dated him a bit, but I've been reading you ever since," she told me. She went on to tell me all sorts of encouraging things about how I am fabulous and lovely and the smartest, most desireable woman on planet Earth.

Perhaps she did not lay it on that thick. But it was implied. Because all that stuff is a given.

Anyway, I was touched that she wrote me, and we exchanged a few emails back and forth, and she said, "Honestly, I don't know why you don't go for The Fireman. He sounds wonderful."

"The Fireman IS wonderful," I wrote her. "Hey! Would YOU like to meet him?"

And that, folks, is how a woman who dated Daniel Boone got set up with The Fireman. I had corresponded with The Fireman this weekend anyway, so it's not like he didn't kn0w my heart had been shattered, so I told him the whole story about this woman and how he should totally meet her.

"I don't know whether to feel really liked or really rejected," said The Fireman, who has to analyze everything.

"Do not feel rejected," I told him. "Think of it like you are a really fabulous pair of shoes that I have, but unfortunately I am only into painful spikes right now, so I am loaning my fabulous shoes to someone else."

Even though The Fireman is really manly, fortunately you can give him analogies like that and he is cool with them.

I hope it works between them. You know how people say everyone comes into your life for a reason? And you know how everyone who says that is a real asshole? I am hoping that Fireman and this woman fall madly in love, so I can justify these four obsessive painful unrewarding months by saying DB and I met in order to fix those two up. NO PRESSURE, YOU TWO! YOU'RE ONLY GIVING MEANING TO AN OTHEWISE HORRID RELATIONSHIP!

Talk about your blog giveaway! The Fireman. The new inflatable meatloaf.

Okay, so that was good, and then I got home and got the news about Winston being missing, and I can't even think about it because if I do I will cry again and I am SICK OF CRYING and I hate myself and I love Winston so bad. Winnie was always my f-a-v-o-r-i-t-e. Don't tell anyone.

Right after Marvin called to tell me Winston was gone, I had to go on a date.


Last week, after I declared my undying love for DB, which by the way feels like eleven hundred centuries ago, I got a Match message from someone. No one interesting has contacted me in months. I have gone on a few dates and they have all been eh. So literally 10 minutes after DB and I decide to become a thing, this guy contacts me and he was pretty interesting, and I was all, Wouldn't you know it and I closed down my Match account.

On Sunday, when it was evident things were not gonna work with DB, I wrote the guy back. Several funny emails resumed, despite my dark cloud and my tears and my dramatic thoughts.

He proposed we get together. "Have you ever been to Hillsborough? We could meet there."

I paused. Hillsborough is exactly where DB and I had our first date. Of all the gin joints…

"Okay," I said. "Sounds great." Yes. Let's meet there. That is where I met the man I will NEVER EVER GET OVER because I loooooove him and he is terrrrrrrible to me and I will Miss Havisham over him for the rest of tiiiimmmme. Sounds great!

I drove there last night with the news of Winston weighing on me, a migraine threatening, this work thing hanging over my head, and oh! When I turned on my GPS (I turned it on with my smile, just as I turn the world on), and typed in, "Take me to Hillsborough," it asked, "Do you want to go to Daniel Boone Drive?"

"NO! No I do NOT want to go to any Daniel Boone Drive. THANKS!" I snapped at it.

I parked in exactly the same spot I parked when I went on my date with DB, who we all said we weren't gonna mention and yet we still do and why must we obsess, and I walked over to the restaurant.

And there was my date, leaning against a lamppost, and he was so hot I could have melted into the sidewalk.

Hot. Seriously. He was hottie hot hot. Attractive, is what he was. And I liked what he had on. Sort of preppie fashionable. And I could tell he liked me. Because I had on my high-heeled boots that are sexy if one is attracted to Nazis and who isn't.

He does that nervous talking thing as I do. "I know on my profile I said I was a good listener, but really I just think I'm so funny that everyone should be hearing what I have to say. I'm a terrible listener," he said.

"Oh my god I'm exactly the SAME WAY!" I said, not listening.

Our food came, and even though I hadn't eaten in seven hours, I had three bites and was not hungry. Oh my god, I'm twitterpated, I realized. When I'm twiterpated over a boy I do not eat.

What kind of shallow superficial tramp gets twittered over a boy when she is in LOVE with another boy?

This shallow superficial tramp.

Oh we had the best time. Seriously! We laughed, we talked, we tormented the waiter. Finally it was time to go and he walked me to my car. It had started to rain, so we stood under an awning talking. And I am sorry to tell you that old in-love-no-one-will-replace-him June KISSED ON THE FIRST DATE.

Three times.

"So I'm thinking Sunday," New Boy said. Whose name is Tom, and when I asked what he wanted his name to be on my blog, he said, "How about Tom?"

"What Sunday?"

"Our next date. I'm being bold, here. I'm going out on a limb."

So June has a movie date on Sunday. We are going to a foreign movie to be pretentious. 

And even though I am sad and cloud-covered and cannot stand thinking about Winnie in the rain and hope I don't get fired about the work thing? 

That was one damn-ass fun date. 


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

Lord, Lubricate My Bones

Yesterday I was feeling mighty blue. Sobbing constantly blue. Couldn't eat blue, which, bonus!

And I am happy to tell you I had a friend in my hour of need.

Photo on 10-17-11 at 7.42 PM
Okay, mostly Marvin came over because I had tons of leftover lasagna from my book club, which met here Sunday night. Still.

That's my "the-word-'Greensboro'-written-in-Hebrew" shirt, which I love. I similarly got one for Marvin, back when we were still cohabitating, only his is forest green. Note my shirt is blue, to match yesterday's mood.

Anyway, I told Marvin about Daniel Boone person-who-shall-not-be-mentioned, even though he probably didn't want to hear about it, but hey, free lasagna. And my lasagna is effing good. When you make one dish, you do well at it.

So he's sitting over by my color-coordinated bookshelf, Marvin is, and he gets down a book.

"Hey. This is mine," he says, interrupting my reverie.


Y'all. It was this whole book of–guess what?–horrifically bad album covers. I know the title keeps it a mystery.

Dude. You have never seen such, you know, bad album covers.


I started to titter a tad.

Waking-and-dreamingAnd maybe giggle.

Funny-albums-country-churchAnd, you know, pee myself.

SoulmanWas in physical pain at this point.

NitecaplarryCould I? Could I have a night cap with Larry? One can dream.


June's new motto. And also hairdo.

LordOnce I got to the lubricated bones, I was a mess. I was laughing so hard I thought I might barf. Oh, Reverend Clarence.

ConfidenceAnd really, maybe you…shouldn't.

Am weak. Why is there an eightball in a casket? I have no idea.

TouchI guess I do not need to tell you I was…cheered by the bad-album-cover book. As in, Marvin left and I was in a heap on the couch. Oh, dear God.

Also? I didn't let him have it. The book, I mean. Hey, he left it here. Possession and nine-tenths and all.

Anyway. Thank you, Marvin, for having a stupid book like this that I never once looked at before this night.

And of course, thank you for the dove.

I hate everything · June's stupid life

How very special are we/For just a moment to be/Part of life’s eternal crap.

I never want to talk about Daniel Boone again. I do not wish to go to Boone, North Carolina. I do not wish to hear about something that's a boon to the economy. I do not want to see Daniel, the tiger from Mr. Rogers.

Keep your fringe and rifle away from me.

So if you emailed or called me, I really appreciate it, but I do not wish to talk about it, is the thing. In case I was not clear on that.

I was driving home from Raleigh Sunday (she says, talking about it) and I realized something. Dating as an old person sucks because you get tired at 10 p.m. and you don't have pert breasts. However, dating as an old person is good because you have the wisdom of experience. At least I do. Because I didn't get married till I was 33 and I had eleventy-fourdred boyfriends before I met Marvin. Mostly they were drawn to my knowledge of numerals.

And as I drove home yesterday, it occurred to me, I have already dated this guy. I mean, not literally. But his type. Daniel Boone is the guy who is really attentive, who makes you feel wonderful and happy and cared for, and then he pulls the rug out. He lets you know he'd REALLY like you if you were just a little…mmmmm…something different. Not sure what. But you don't quite measure up.

Remember this summer when I visited the love of my life guy? Remember how I described him? See above.

You know what I did? I got the hell away from the love of my life guy. And eventually I felt infinitely better about myself. Because I DO measure up. Yes, I have the hair of 17 banshees, but I am a catch, dawgs. I really am. And no one's gonna make me feel like I have to be something more in order to be loved. Eff that.

God, I feel like I just escaped the snake oil salesman with my last 50 cents.

And I was fine until I got home yesterday and Marvin called me. I had called Marvin Friday night because I messed up the sink and couldn't fix it (see above reference to how I am such a catch). Also, I'd like to thank Marvin for the quick response to my plumbing emergency. Noah called. Wanted me to stop getting all the attention with my water and two-by-two animals.

At any rate, my phone rang yesterday, and here was the conversation.

Me: Hello?

Marvin: Hi.

Me: (shakily) Hiiiiii.

Marvin: Are you okay?


What I did, folks? Was go on a crying jag. A jag. If I were a pill I'd have been a jagged little one. If I were a singer I'd have been Mick Jagger. If I were a TV show? JAG.

Marvin, having known and enjoyed me and my I'm-a-catch personality for 25 years now, merely sat and waited for me to cry it out, there. He really did. He just waited. Which was exactly the right thing to do. And then after an hour and a half of me crying, he said something funny, which made me laugh and then I cried again because no one makes me laugh as much as Marvin does.

And I wasn't crying because of that person who shall not be mentioned here any more. I really wasn't. I mean, I've known that person for four months of my life.

I was crying because I was disappointed. I was crying because someone called me who actually does care about me and I felt safe. I was crying because even though he does care about me it is so.over. I was crying because I thought I was done with all this nonsense. I was crying because I am a year and a half from being a big-boned handsome woman and I'd better hurry up and score someone quickly before my hips really settle.

I don't know, y'all. You are right. Things could be worse. I could be Sting.

On the bright side, I did get to go to the fair Saturday. The best part was when the cobwebs in my girl parts spelled out "Some Pig" and a crowd gathered to look at it.



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

June’s torrid love life

So, when I told y'all all that Daniel Boone and I were friends, I honest-to-coonskin meant it. We really were. Then I noticed that if I met anyone else, I would think, Yeah, you're okay. But you're no Daniel Boone.

Then I noticed if he told me about women he was dating, it made me want to set myself on fire and barf and hang myself in rapid succession, which makes no sense because the rope would catch fire and also wouldn't I be barfing on it? but there you go.

Dick Whitman is forever telling me about his bevy of women and I find it riveting and entertaining. So I knew something was up.

I like how it takes me 48 years to catch on.

Anyway, I discussed it with Daniel Boone, who I was certain would not be into me, and it turns out I was wrong about that, too, and what I like about myself is my quick and insightful mind.

So, we are giving it a try. This seeing-each-other thing. And if it doesn't work and we can't be friends after, I will never smile again because I love being friends with Daniel Boone. What I like about myself is my lack of drama.

Tomorrow we are introducing our dogs. He has a chocolate Lab. Soon he will have a dead chocolate Lab. Soon I will have a nervous Edsel.

Edswhy eds got to meet new people, mom? edsul mizzanthrope.

So there you go. Oh! And I am forcing him to take me to the fair Saturday. If you have read this blog a long time you will recall I always go to the fair. Now I have to make up another sentence so I can link to a different fair post.

What I like about myself is my subtlety.

I must go now so I can Wen my hair, which by the way I am not so impressed with. I think I have the same old George Washngton hair. The penny called…

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

June tries to score drugs

Yesterday I went to the doctor, because you know I like going to the doctor. I went because (a) whenever I put pressure on my left elbow it feels like a shock going up my arm, which is pleasant and (deux) I wanted to score some more Latisse.

And you know how all my doctors quit? If you are just tuning in, here's a brief recap:

1. My first doctor in LA killed himself.

2. Then the next took a leave of absence because her son had seizures.

Okay. I was PROBABLY not the cause of doctor A and we can't blame me for doctor B for sure.

3. Then the next guy was really good and it was maybe three months before I got a letter saying, "I have moved on." Not moved on like the suicide doctor, but still.

4. Then I got here and the doctor who did my surgery in March? Left the organization in April.

5. And the general doctor I had here? I called and they said, "She's no longer with us." Do not even want to KNOW what that means.

6. So I got her replacement, saw her for most of this year, and when I went to make an appointment with her last week? She has an "emergency" and will be gone for an undisclosed time.

I can't KEEP a doctor.

7. Oh! And I forgot to tell you about my doctor in Seattle, Sherwood B. Fyne, who DIED while he was my doctor, rendering his name ironic.

You know how I said I'd give you a "brief" rundown? Never believe me when I say that.

So yesterday I saw a whole new person and am looking forward to her phony excuse when she quits me. Nevertheless, she refused to give me Latisse and said I need to see an eye doctor or whatever–pfft. Then she looked at my elbow and said, "If it hurts when you sit that way, don't sit that way."


I said, "You know what would make my elbow feel better? Is if I had longer eyelashes."

You may be stunned to hear this argument did not work. THIS will probably be the doctor I am stuck with forever.

So now I have an appointment next week with a plastic surgeon who lists Latisse on her website. What I won't DO now that I am starting to see longer lashes. Which by the way I just tried to photograph on my webcam and all I could do was get a picture of the top of my head because I was closing my eyes so you could see my lashes.

In other news, I got invited to a Halloween party and my coworker from this job and my LAST job, Jane West, is to be my date. We are going as Snow White and Rose Red! Oh, we love ourselves.

Jessie-willcox-smith-snow-white-and-rose-redI get to be Snow White because I'm "blonde." Cannot wait to wear a triangle napkin on my head.

I must leave now, and get my snow white self ready for work. Before I go, I wanted to show you a photo Marvin sent me that he just found. It's from 2004.

It's Fran! Back when he got up off his chair! Oh, adventure Fran. How I miss you.

Okay, really going.

Oh! Just one more thing. I, um, well.

I love Daniel Boone.

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

whY mom sAy the bAD wurdSS?

GuestposterWritten by Edsel Gardens, guest poster

Edsul wait. He wate for mom to get home. Edsul stand on cowch. When mom get home? When mom get home? Yousalee she home by now. Where mom. Chew on cowch a little.

Mom get home. "I work late" mom say. "I work hard today" mom say two. "It rayning. Do Edsul and Taloola want to go outs?"

Edsul go out. It wet in sky. It wet a lot. Edsuls run around Nyway. It fun. Taloo not like when it wet from sky. Taloo stand at door. BARK say Taloo. BARK! she say. BARK! BARK! BARK!

"Okayyyy, Taloo," say mom. She have book in her hand. "Mom work lots. Mom want to reed her book now."

We go in. Mom makeeng soups. She feed dum cats. She feed Taloo. She feed Edsuls. It brown crunchy food, which is Edsel favorite. crunch crunch crunch. Good is food.

"STOP IT RODGERS!" I heer mom say. Rodger have head in pan. He eating mom soop. "STOP IT!" she say. Rodger keep eeting soup. Taloo is giggling. Rodger is giggling. Mom put Rodger on floor.

"Mom just want to eat soop and reed #$%&# book" she say.

We all go over to mom an her soop. Catz climb on mom. Taloo put foot on mom. Edsel show mom bottom teefs.

"EVryone leeve mom alone" mom say. "Mom JUST WANT TO READ BOOK AND EAT #%$$@@# SOOP."

Catz still climb on mom. Eds still show teefs. Mom put bowl away. She sit on cowch.


"EDSEL WHAT YOU HAVE" say mom. She sound mad. Edsul run. Mom take screw out Edsul mouf. Screw left from when mom put new curtains up in sky.

"MOM JUST WANT TO REED BOOK! #&%@@&##" she say.

She sit on cowch. She open book.

Skrinkle! Skrinkle! Skrinkle!

WHAT NOW!! mom yell.

Rodgur chewing plastyc bag. He have head way in there. "GET OUT OF BAG!" mom say. She put bag away. She open book. She close book. This time mom stompeeng.

"GET OUT OF CAT FUD!" mom yell. Andersun in cat fud bag. He tear big whole in there. He standeeng in hole.

"MOM JUST WANT TO REED BOOK" say mom. She look upsets. "$@@#%^&!" she say.

Edsul come to help. He lay on mom. He watch mom reed book. Taloo come lay on mom too. Taloo say, Hmmm. Hmmmm.


"We not going on walk Taloo" mom say. "IT RAINING RELLY HARD. NO WALK."

Hmmmm, say Taloo.


Edsul get kind of nervus. Chew mom blanket just a little. Mom say LEEF IT and read her book.

HMMMM, say Taloo.

Mom get big nostril. Her face look mad. Edsul come in heer and write post.

Think mom just want to reed book.