I love how it seems like Anderson Cooper is a solid gray cat, but really he is stripey. He is Fruit Stripe gum. Except his flavor lasts. Fruit Stripe was always such a disappointment 11 seconds later.
Really today I have nothing to tell you except that it was an excellent–EXCELLENT!–episode of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills last night. I like the new young girl, the one who got dumped by her husband so he could marry that not-so-attractive Leann Rimes or whatever her name is. I always thought Leann Rimes looked about 42 when she was 14. I don't know what it is. Anyway, first wife is way prettier.
And for those of you reading who are named Hulk, so far this post is torment. Cats AND the Real Housewives.
Did you ever notice that they have Kyle doing the "Last time, on the Real Housewives" thing when it starts, and she pronounces it "Houzewives"? Annoying. As bad as Vicki from the Orange County one who says, "Prevusly on the Real Housewives."
Prevusly. Why are these people richer than me?
Oh! You know what I was thinking? I mean, when I'm not having pressing thoughts about the Real Houzewives?
I am fat. Fat phat fat. I was thinking as an incentive, or incenative, as my grandmother would say, you guys could all sign up, and if I don't lose 15 pounds by the end of the year, I have to pay a dollar to everyone who signs up. What say you? I could take a picture of the scale so you know I'm not lying.
I don't mean just the scale. My WEIGHT on the scale. "Oh, June MUST be telling the truth! There's her scale!"
Let me know if you are in. I thought about doing a bet, like if I lose you all have to pay ME a dollar, but the logistics of that are ludicrous. PayPal won't take just a dollar, it'd have to be $2, and that seems too steep. So instead I'll just have the threat that I may owe tens of dollars to my tens of readers.
I have to go shower, as I am wont to do, but before I leave this important and life-changing post, I wanted to show you photo evidence of my pets' dysfunctional relationship.
They spend half the day beating the crap out each other. Roger catapults (bah) onto Edsel's head, tearing at his eyeballs and kicking his jugular. Edsel puts that kitten's whole head in his mouth and knocks him over and spits all down his cat back. And then? They hold hands and fall asleep. It's sick, I tell you. It's like every relationship I had in the '80s.
Okay, going now. Oh, and go friend Tallulah Gardens on Facebook to hear about how Edsel peed on her head.