The St. Joseph candle TinaDoris got me yesterday. It's supposed to bring you employment. Or children's aspirin. I forget. You know, I never made the association between St. Joseph and San Jose before. Quick, is what I am.
I am blue. Blue blue blue. I am dark blue. I am azure. Is azure actually darker than regular blue? I never took art. Anyway, sad. Me=sad.
And don't even send me any "Cheer up, June. Things'll get better" comments. Because how many of those have you effing sent me this year? I'll tell you how many. Nine hundred thousand and fourteen, that's how many. And you know what? Every time you've told me things will get better? THEY GET WORSE. Is the thing.
My cousin called and said, "Job wonders what you did to piss God off." So do I. Seriously, am I that bad of a person?
I sat here last night and thought of all the people who have it worse than me. There are people who don't have their health, of course. And homeless people, which I will be in about a month. And there are the unattractive.
See. This is why God is annoyed with me.
Oh, but speaking of attractive, take a gander at what my Aunt Kathy put on Facebook yesterday:
That's Aunt Sue looking all hot and about 15 years old, there, on the right. Truthfully she doesn't look that much different. She does not age. Then next to her in the sporty yellow stripes is my cousin Jimmy, who no longer calls himself Jimmy but James and you can imagine how those of us related to him have stuck right with that. Anyway, even though he's (OHMYGOD!) 35 now, he pretty much looks like that too, sans the bowl hair. Then my cousin Katie is hanging in her Holly Hobbie finest, there, on my lap.
Let's talk about my hair. I mean, I know we need to delve into the person who took this, who felt the need to cover the 15 feet of (brown) wallpaper rather than, you know, us, and the (brown) dishes that Katie and I TOTALLY REMEMBER, but that HAIR. Why did anyone let me go out like that? Why was some of it, you know, FLIPPING FORWARD in that fashion?
At least I had my Kraft Parmesan Cheese. Which I still love. See? Things could be worse. They could've discontinued Kraft Parmesan Cheese.
You know your life sucks when that's all you've got to cling to.
Anyway, TinaDoris and I went out yesterday to the nutty crunchy crystal store, and she got her fortune told, which she probably doesn't want me announcing the details of to tens of readers. But luckily for me it was free energy day, as opposed to Sheer Energy day–Sheer! Energeeeee!–and I got 15 minutes of reiki.
If you do not know what that is, I highly recommend it. If you feel ooky about getting your cards read or your fortune told, reiki is just someone who can tune into your body and provide healing energy.
I have to stop thinking about that stupid commercial.
Did you really think I wouldn't find this commercial? How much coke had that stewardess DONE?
Anyway, my point is, the reiki was good. And I am throwing in her email and phone number if anyone local wants any energy healing, because she really was great. email@example.com 336.681.7038. She had sheer energy.
I will stop.
So after my day with TinaDoris I spent about three hours sobbing nonstop, and I even called Marvin's mother. Yes, I did. I was sad. Hi, Marvin's mom.
Finally, though, it was time to watch Tall Boy on VH-1 Classic. Did I fail to mention he was gonna be on VH-1 Classic? He was. He was on, ironically, a music documentary. Talking about Rush.
Tall Boy is kind of microcosmically famous for knowing about Rush and Tool and other bands I've never heard of, and he's written a book about all this and people are way up into him. And he is also a huge Rick James expert. Okay. I made that last part up. But that would be hilarious.
So I had to SIT there, and dry my EYES, and watch this WHOLE docuMENtary, just like the old days, about ohmygod, bands I had never heard of and never WANT to hear of, and also Rick James every once in awhile,
but it was so worth it because every five minutes or so, there'd be Tall Boy yammering on like he knew what he was talking about. In case you saw said documentary last night (really?), he was the only man (and yes, it was ALL MEN on this thing) who was remotely appealing on there. And I have just narrowed it down for you considerably. Because for some reason? Men who like that genre of music? Not pretty.
Maybe it's because Tall Boy wears glitter in his braids.
I need to get over stuff today.
I have to go get ready because Dick Whitman and I are going out. We are gonna take advantage of the fact that everyone else will be watching TV today so things'll be uncrowded. By the way, I talked to Hulk last night and asked him about the Super Bowl and who he wanted to win and things like that. I think he is still talking and has no idea I hung up 15 hours ago.
Okay, pulling on my Sheer Energy pantyhose and getting out of here.