...friend/Ned · Hulk's sex life · I am berserk · June's stupid life

My riveting weekend. Written by June Gardens. Spent with June Gardens. Because I’m stuck here inside my own self. Which is often mortifying.

I had a busy weekend.

The end.

Wouldn't that be irritating? If I just said that and hit "post"? I think of all kinds of ways to irritate y'all and then I just go ahead and be my regular self and irritate you anyway.

On Friday, I had to tell my temporary workplace "I need to leave on time today," which is sort of sad, that one has to do that, but that place is SO BUSY. Unsure if I've emphasized that enough. They are way busier than when I was a real employee. Which, you know, good for them. Good for the economy. Yay.

But I had stuff to do.

I was getting up with Dick Whitman, and the woman he has been seeing, and …friend. We went to an opening of an exhibit, because Dick and his Whit is a fancy artist type, man.

And yes. He DID wear his orange polka-dotted shirt again. I know y'all missed it.

Oddly, we all met at the very restaurant where DW and I had our first date way back a year ago when I had no idea we would end up repulsed by each other and just be friends instead.

I got there first, so I ordered a cranberry and soda (June. Hittin' it hard since 2012.) and took a picture of the area where DW and I had that nervous date.

See right there? Where no one is sitting? That's where we were. They don't allow anyone to sit there in honor of that auspicious occasion. Why is everyone sitting alone and looking down? What is this, the Pink Floyd Bar and Depressing Grille?

Finally, everyone in my party showed up and I took a blurry photo of …friend's salad. I wish I could make you understand how many effing salads …friend eats. "I just got back from lunch." "Oh, let me guess! What'd you have?" Seriously. I don't know how he isn't sick and tired of greens.

That said? …Friend looks really good. So I guess there are rewards to this kind of thing. I had an ahi tuna wrap. The wrap said, "Taaaaake on meeee (take on me!), taaaake me onnnn!"

I guess that'd be an a-ha tuna wrap. Anyway, I chose red and blue tortilla chips over fruit. See above re …friend's eating habits and how he looks good. Betty Draper called. Wonders if she can borrow my muumuus.

Anyway, the exhibit was cool and everything …friend and I liked, DW and his date hated. Did you ever see Manhattan?

On Saturday, I went to a Murder Mystery Party at Marty Martin's girlfriend Kaye's house.

All my pictures turned out (wait for it) blurry, and I emailed Kaye to thank her for the fun time and said, "Send me your photos for my blog" and she never did, so now you get blurry pictures and THANKS, KAYE. Thanks for RUINING MY BLOG.

Here is blurry Kaye making duck face, which I just accidentally typed "dick face" and cracked myself up cause I am in 7th grade. Anyway, she was kind of the femme fatale character.

Oh and please note I got this invite a month ago, kind of noted the date of the party, then FAILED to read the detailed invite till three hours before the bash. I had to go scrounge up a fortune-teller costume (I used my sari and my Hello Kitty 8-Ball).

So here we are, reading clues which lead us to the murder, and GUESS WHAT?

I was the one murdered.


Blurry Marty Martin, who was a mummy, had to use my pink reading glasses to read his clues. He and another friend who was there, J-9, both said, "Oh we have to read? We can't see a THING with our contacts!" I was all, "Do you have reading glasses?" And it was like a miracle. Neither one had even thought of trying reading glasses before this and they were both, "I CAN SEE!"

And crap. Now it's 8:34 and I didn't even get to Sunday but trust me. Movie and brunch with …friend. Book club with Faithful Reader LaUral.

Look how cute we are, other than my acne blemish. Hello, 46. Really? Wrinkles AND acne blemish? Thanks. And I got those earrings when I was out Friday night. Pretty, aren't they? They set off the blemish to perfection.

Anyway, I had much to say about Sunday but I will be fired if I don't get off the computer and get to work but OH! Mad Men! Poor Sally! Peggy is shacking up! Dr. Laura'd be PISSED. Joan got her figure back! I kind of like Megan.


Hulk's sex life · June's stupid life

Hulk. Rendering women powerless since–oh, eff it.

Recently, I got the following text from Hulk:

"You wanna know the definition of depressing? My unopened box of condoms expired."

I am afraid I may have been the wrong audience for this information, as I (a) found it incredibly amusing and (2) immediately asked if I could blog about it.

Then I am afraid we got way too much into a discussion of the various brands of condoms out there, and that they came in sizes (did I know this? I did not. Because I am a girl and was married for 97 years) and if anyone is out there at Christmastime wondering what to give Hulk as a stocking stuffer, I have all his condom info and you're welcome.

Anyway, the reaching of the expiration date was just too much for the Hulk to take. He was bummed. He was discouraged. He had exceeded his shelf life.

"I really don't know why you can't get any action," I told him, finally trying to be a good friend and not just amused by his plight. "All the women who read my blog ADORE you."

"Great," said Hulk. "Married women who've never met me and who live in other states. THERE'S something to hang your Magnums on."

A few days went by and I had to hear about how Hulk hates himself and how he looks like Mongo

Blazing-saddles-mongo(okay, you have to admit he was funny with that one) and how no woman would ever be drawn to him ever again for all eternity.

The good news is, this got Hulk primed to start the looking for love. Wooking for wub. And believe it or not, within a week, he'd met someone. A real girl! He didn't have to inflate her or anything!

We're gonna call her Bonne Bell. Which is hilarious only to me but it's my blog so you're just gonna have to tolerate my peccadilloes.

Bonne Bell lives near the Hulkster, has an interesting job and is age-appropriate. I was very excited by this whole thing after the first time they talked. On day two, I texted Hulk, as I am wont to do 79 times a day.

"Have you talked to Bonne Bell today?"

"Um. Yes."

Okay, see. I knew that meant a lot. The "um." So I stampeded to the phone, which is a stupid way to phrase that since I was TEXTING from my phone, so I really had nowhere to stampede.

The POINT is, THEY WENT ALL THE WAY! Hulk and Bonne Bell! The closed the deal. They batter-dipped the corn dog. The threw a log on the fire.

If you catch my drift.

And guess what? Now he doesn't like her. "What kind of person puts out on the first date?" asked Hulk, who had just put out on the first date.

And in his defense, he DID see her again, but was already complaining about her physical appearance ("Getting ready for my big date. Emphasis on BIG," he texted me), and her mannerisms and if you ask me poor Bonnie Bell can do no right now that she did the wrong.

Is this fair? Granted, I am not a first-date-putter-outer, as I am kind of shy that way. But I have zero judgment for anyone who does. I mean, we're adults. You know. Ish. The fact that I just giggled at my corn dog line for 48 minutes is beside the point.

So why doesn't he like her? Is he just doomed to be a single curmudgeon his whole life? Was she just not the one? Should no woman give in to the irresistible powers of The Hulk right away in order to keep him?

Your thoughts.

June's stupid life · Pieces of Wisdom

A crucial Pieces of Wisdom

Let's face it. I am not happy with my coffee situation. I mean, first of all, I have to have half-decaf, which is insulting enough. But then awhile back my coffeemaker broke, so my mother gave me hers, but then THAT broke, and is it really that bad of an idea to throw your coffeemaker against the fireplace like you're doing a Russian toast every morning?

So then I got a percolator, because I love the sound it makes, but coffee stayed fresh in there for, like, 12 seconds.

Now I have a French press, because my mother told me to, but she also told me I could not get any play in seventh grade because boys were intimidated by my beauty.

The problem with the French press is coffee gets cold in eight seconds. Plus, the Russian toast with that glass thing is precarious at best.

So what say you? What coffeemaker do you use and why do you like it?

Do tell.

Confidential to my fellow deep Real Housewives watchers: I don't know how this discussion fits with being a wife and a mother. You're gonna have to think long and hard about getting a coach, a trainer coach.

Health · June's stupid life

Karaoke singer will survive. As will June.

So this has been a sort of harrowing few days. I hate waiting for medical test results. But finally Monday afternnoon my doctor called and said, "June? All your tests were negative." Which is about the best news you can hear. Other than, "June? This is Barry Gibb. Have finally left that wife of 42 years and I am all yours. Also, your go-go dancing skillz are needed at the Whiskey. Stat."

They thought I might have had the cervical cancer, which by the way comes from a very common STD known as HPV. Nearly all cervical cancer stems from that. WHICH WOULD HAVE BEEN SO UNFAIR. I was, you know, married and engaged and all up in Marvin exclusively since 1996, and to tell you the truth, there hasn't been that much, you know,


since I got single again. I am certain you wish to know every detail. And any


if there HAS been any, and I'm not saying either way, but if there WERE any, I would hoo-haaa safely. SO I WOULD HAVE BEEN REALLY ANNOYED TO GET CANCER FROM AN STD. Is what I am saying.

Anyway, I now have my PhD in HPV and false postive tests and pap smears and all that, so if you ever run into this issue (and anywhere from 50 to 80% of hoo-haaaing people will get HPV at one point or another, so…) (and you probably won't even know you had it because usually you shed it on your own), ask me anything. I now know.

And you want to know something kind of sad? As soon as I got my results I emailed …friend, and also Dick Whitman, and Hulk, and some of my chick friends, and my parents.

And it was hours later that I finally thought to email Marvin.

Marvin used to be the first person I told, you know, EVERYTHING, and he was an afterthought. I guess that's natural at this point. But it's weird.

Speaking of Marvin, as you may or may not know, I never knew where he lived once he moved out. I told him not to tell me, because it was easier to pretend he didn't live here. It's like he was in the ether or something. Well, this weekend I got a letter from a bank; I think it's where his car loan is from. Anyway, it said, "We received your change of address form. You have moved from [my address] to [Marvin's address]."

THANKS, BANK. So now the cat's out THAT bag. So I asked Marvin if, since I now know where he hangs, where his crib is, his pad, and so on, if I could come see it. Wouldn't you kind of like to see how Marvin decorated and so forth? He said yes, of course I can come over and also see Henry and Anderson, so look for a Better Homes & Marvin Gardens issue of Bye Bye, Pie soon.

Finally, in summation, to end this post, I came home and danced till I got shin splints tonight,


then I streamed a movie. Have you seen We Bought a Zoo? Because I love me the Cameron Crowe and oh, did I sob at that movie, and that LITTLE GIRL in it! She was so good!

Also, would enjoy owning a zoo. Or even Zoom. Ohhh two one three fourrrr.

Okay, leaving now. BUT NOT LEAVING THE EARTH just yet.


...friend/Ned · June's stupid life · Music

Say it isn’t so

"You know there's a Hall and Oates hotline," …friend told me, like it was just common knowledge and I was the last to know. And no, I don't know what we were discussing beforehand that led to this riveting disclosure.

And who cares? THERE'S A HALL AND OATES HOTLINE? You make my dreams come true!


According to …friend, you could call a number and it'd say, "For Maneater, press one. For Sara Smile, press two."

"Go ahead and call it now," encouraged …friend, who is apparently out of touch and out of time, because although I DIDN'T call it then, I put it in my phone's Google search so I'd remember to look it up later. And when I did? All anticipatory and gleeful?

It's a bitch, girl. The number no longer works. I may have to get my private eyes on this–they're watching you, stupid nonworking hotline! Cause they're on my list. I can't resist.

Okay, I'm done. I can't go for that anymore.

Hall and Oates hotline, every time you go away, you take a piece of meat with you. Marvin used to sing that, and you have no idea how many songs Marvin has ruined in my head. Also, do you like how I said I was done but kept going with the Hall and the Oates lyrics?


Why is every photo of these two so homoerotic?

And I realize I could just, you know, go on YouTube and hear any Hall and Oates tune I wanted–AND WHO DOESN'T DO THAT ALL THE TIME? but it was more exciting to CALL and get Maneater or what have you.


Why is he tired of playing Ovaltine?

So, that was my disappointment for the weekend. If I were a rich girl, maybe I could bribe them to put the Hall and Oates hotline back up.

Okay, really done now.


My baby hair with a woman's eyes will talk at you.

Right after I get my going-as-Hall-AND-Oates Halloween costume done.

...friend/Ned · June's stupid life · Not Grace Kelly

June tries to read the waffle iron

The Snowflake children down the street got a new puppy.

I know. And it's a chihuahua, so you know it will bite someone just like Snowflake did.

It's kind of cute, though, in an I'm-a-chihuahua kind of way.

June. Repulsing everyone who loves their stupid chihuahua since 2012.

And in case you just got here, about three blocks away from me live these extremely loud children, who I am pleased to say you see playing–actually playing–outside all the time like it's 1969, and I always stop and talk to them. Mostly because as we walk by they scream, "HI LALUUULAH! HI ETHEL!" and they always want to pet my dogs. They had an absolutely beautiful big dog named Snowflake but it bit someone (allegedly) and the dog got taken away to the pound.

The end.

And yes, person who just got here and asks the obvious questions, I DID go looking for Snowflake to snatch her up myself. Because in a million years I can't see her biting anyone. She was a sweetheart.

I have no idea what that child's t-shirt says. Something at the beach. I left my dog at the beach. I stay inside with a Wii like the other kids in America only when I'm at the beach. I will finally learn your dogs' names at the beach.

In the meantime, I been talking to them four years and know NONE of their names. They have told me, but (a) they aren't pets so it's irrelevant to me and (4) you really can't understand them half the time because they all scream at once.

In other news, …friend sent me this:

Screen Shot 2012-04-20 at 7.34.09 AM
Wait. What?

Recently, …friend, who is a tasteful as me, was trying to make a Helen Keller joke and accidentally said "Anne Frank" instead of Helen Keller. Which (a) makes no sense and (b) is horrible. I mean, I act like making jokes about Helen Keller is so much more wonderful. But anyway, the terribleness of that sent me into hysterics, because you know how I am, and this is probably why he thought of me when he saw this article.

"Oh, June is a bad person! She'll appreciate this!"

Will somebody please get me some Helen Keller sunglasses? Please? I need them. As badly as I need w-a-t-e-r.

I guess that's all I have to tell you, but really, that should be enough.

June's stupid life · My pets · Weblogs

with Turkey

Edsel just stuck his tongue in my mouth while I was yawning. He is disgusting.

IMG_1048edzul very attract to mom. mom irriztible. in her graa rowbe.

He's right. I am sort of irriztible in this gray robe. I may have to make out with myself, if I can get my dog out my mouth.

So, hey! How are y'all all?

IMG_1049lu just want to be freend, mom. mostlee cause gray rowbe not that hot.

Things are fine-ish here, although as you can see a lot of my time has been taken up teaching my Crystal-Clear Photography series.

I have good news and bad news, over here. The bad news is I am in the middle of ANOTHER EFFING HEALTH SCARE, and probably it isn't that big a deal, but you know how I am. I have obsessed, and Googled, and worried, and pictured myself feeling the silk and joining Dick Clark for the final countdown.

THE FINAL COUNTDOWN! Now you have that song in your head all day. You are welcome.

There will be more news on my impending race toward death on Monday, and no, I will NOT give you more details if you email me. "What's going ONNN, June? Let's TALK about it, June." Talking about it makes me hurl. I am just telling you so you can get a general idea of my state of mind and that state is Nebraska.

…I just got up to let old Frenchie, there, and his sister outside to chase squirrels, and as I passed the dining room there is a container of Parmesan cheese just sitting in the middle of the floor.

A whole container.

Is my Parmesan cheese haunted? Is it floating about on its own? HOW DID THOSE STUPID DOGS GET TO THE PARMESAN CHEESE? Can they now open the fridge? Because that might be convenient, actually. "Edsel, go get mom some Gino's Pizza Rolls and maybe we can get to second." Gino's Pizza Rolls would be in the freezer, though. I need to get them a little step stool.

Oh, and the good news, and I like how I take 75 minutes to get to any good news, is that I won that Best Blogger Who Ever Walked the Streets of Greensboro award in Yes Weekly magazine.

Actually, I think it was Best Blogger Who Ever Graced the Triad, and "the Triad" is what they call it here and I have no idea why. I think it has something to do with three. I am the best blogger of three.

I know I won because Marvin called me. He'd been at the gym and was paging though Yes Weekly–and yes to what? What does "Yes Weekly" mean, really? Then again I shouldn't poke fun because they have awarded me this prize. Anyway, he was on the treadmill or doing zoomba or pulling a train with his teeth or whatever Marvin does at the gym and there I was. Listed.

Marvin picked a fine time to leave THIS winning combination, over here. A champion blogger AND sexually enticing to dogs. GOOD WORK, ABANDONING THIS GRAVY TRAIN, BUB.

Maybe I am attractive to dogs because I smell like Gravy Train. Do they still make Gravy Train?

It doesn't really seem fashionable anymore to feed your dog strips in gravy (with Turkey!) while a train is bearing down on you. What about Chuck Wagon? Do they still make that? So that your sheepdog can chase it under the cupboard? Sheepdogs were the Border collies of the '70s, weren't they?

Okay, I must go. Am still freelancing at my old work and WHEN DID THAT PLACE GET SO BUSY? There has been late work EVERY NIGHT so far, and they are down to two copy editors. Also I have to leave for said busy place in 20 minutes and am still in my siren song gray robe. So goodbye.

June's stupid life · My pets

Geez Louise. Found her.

I just went to sit on the front porch to wait for …friend, and did a few more "kittykittykitty!" calls, and I heard the saddest meow you've ever heard. There she was, in all the foliage at the side of the house. I would take her picture but she is too busy eating to pose for the effing webcam.


Now I gotta go take down all the signs. Which is good, because I was worried the neighbors would start reporting me to the SPCA.

June's stupid life · My pets


I just got home and Lily isn't here. She does NOT go outside; after Roger I am not letting another cat out for as long as I live.

Marvin came over after work and let the dogs out cause I worked late, but he swears she did not go out. I think it was yesterday afternoon that …friend and I saw her all cute on the bed, and we were talking about how comfy she looked, and how glad I was she is roaming all over the house now. I really, really think that was just last night. I am kind of cloudy with panic.

What the HELL? I shouldn't even HAVE cats.

...friend/Ned · June can't keep a man · June's stupid life · Weblogs

In which June becomes an adult. hah!

Your gal, June, here,  just woke up. Am I 17? I was out till quite late with …friend, and let's discuss what a grownup I am. I mean other than the part where I got home after 2:00 and just woke up.

I won't go into details, but let's just say I had issues with friend. Issues. Basically he was being a boy and I was being a girl. And I was King Kamehameha being a girl. My POINT is, even though Hulk told me there was NO WAY I could go to …friend and calmly discuss what was going on, and he said he saw me as a cartoon character with tears flying off her face instead of a normal person,

I WANT YOU TO KNOW I DID NOT ACT THE FOOL. I really was calm. You know, for me. And we talked at length, and I think things are pretty okay with …friend and me now.

I know! Aren't you proud of me? I was kind of an adult and also I am not having to get on here today and be all, "…friend is no more." Which if I had to get on here and do that today I would have been a mess.

And I actually kind of have to credit Daniel Boone for that, just a little. You have no idea how many times in the four months I knew him he'd say, "Why don't you just TALK to the person?" "For God's sake, June, did you TALK to him?" until finally all on my own I hear myself thinking, Why don't you just TALK to him?

So I dredged a good habit out of that bad relationship. See? It wasn't all bad, that Daniel Boone thing. Okay, it was mostly bad. Still.

I must go now and get ready to see a movie with …friend. Ellipses. Dot dot dot. Oh, but before I go, I do want to talk to all of you, too. I have been thinking that I don't want to blog every day anymore. I've been doing this every day for five years and I am kind of burnt out. I was thinking I'd just come on here when there was something to, you know, say.

The reason I've hesitated to do so is because you all have created such a community in the comments, and I feel bad about not providing a new place for y'all to get together every day. But if you guys wanted to chat, you could just do so in whatever post is up, right? I mean, I'm being silly.

So that's all my news for today. I guess I have to get all cute now to go to the movie, so I'm getting in my WayBack Machine to 1990.

Friends · June's stupid life

Vick Whitman

So it was kind of fun yesterday to be back at my old workplace. Remember the guy who always had Vicks at his desk? And I'd always have to go over and smell it because I am a giant, giant freak? He's still there. As is his Vicks. And my old boss is still there. I adore that guy.

Everyone was all, "What's new?" and I was all, "Oh, not married anymore. Completely different person. You?"

Naturally there was late work, and does anyone remember how much overtime I put in at that place? Staying till 1:30 a.m., having to come in at 7:00, getting to come home but having them call me literally all night to get up, go to the computer, and proofread something?

One thing you're really really able to do well is be sharp at 2:00 a.m. Maybe they should hire shifts there or something.

Oh, and all the old coffee makers were still there, and at noon we got pizza, and oh! My childhood photo really IS still in the lobby. There I still am! For the last 15 months, smiling out at everyone. Hi! I am three! I do not work here anymore!


After work, I drove all the way back home from Winston-Salem, where I had many many cigarettes–and how long am I gonna drag that joke out?–and Dick Whitman, who lives in Winston-Salem so he's practically a cigarette himself, showed up at my house about an hour later. We were going to do something there, but I forgot I had dogs.

Here's the Whit in my dining room, trying to avoid all cats and dogs, seeing as he is deathly allergic. Who needs to suck it up and admit he's faking just to be annoying? Is it Dick Plastic Bubble Whitman?

We went to dinner at Proximity, which is right near my house–so the name is coincidental–and the site of my first date with …friend. In fact, from our table I could see the spot at the bar where I met …friend. There was an old couple there in our place, and they sat not speaking for a long time. Finally the old guy put his arm around the woman. Do you think it was their first date? Because, hello Casanova.

The waitress walked up as Whitman and I were discussing our love lives ad nauseum, and I said, "Oh, don't worry. We're talking about other people, not each other." And then she told us a terrible story about this couple she waited on at brunch, and they ate just everything, and at the end the guy broke up with the woman. Right there at brunch. As the woman cried the guy asked, "Do you want anything else off the menu?"

Why would you break up with someone at brunch? Why not afterwards, or even before so you don't have to pay anything?

I really hate going to breakfast, by the way. Like, the other day, …friend and I went to brunch, technically, but it was almost 3 p.m. so why they were even serving brunch, still, is beyond me and my POINT is, I had already eaten earlier in the day.

Don't expect me to get up, shower, dress, put on makeup and then stand in line to eat and have coffee. Don't even expect that out of me. Not doing it. It makes me cranky.

100_1271In other news, here's Lily sitting on the dining room table. The very place Whitman went to avoid animal dander.


She is sitting in front of a box of statistics textbooks. She understands them as much as I do.

Also, thank heavens I sprang for this dog bed. So my dogs can–oh, screw it.

Comment of the week goes to (sit down) Just Paula. I know. You guys, I know. She should just be disqualified for being too funny. Go see This Week's Special if you want to read it and resent her.

June, out.

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

June writes for four minutes

I have to go to work at old place not last place but place before that (OPNLPBPBT). I have to rush. So I will blog for the four minutes it takes before my french press makes coffee.

A. Tallulah opened and ate an entire bag of jalapeno Cheetos last night. She is a dick. I know I should not even own such a thing but it looked good.

2. Watched old episodes of Entourage last night and it made me miss LA. Because I spent so many days in LA at the hottest clubs and banging starlets.

vii. If Marvin reads this post he's gonna be annoyed I never let on about the starlets.

5. Am excited to see old coworkers today and glad it's the casual-ist place alive, clotheswise.

(b). After, Dick Whitman and I are supposed to go to a film fesival but if I don't hurry I won't get the dogs to daycare and I won't be able to go at all.

**. Yesterday I worked out and then immediately went to Taco Bell after.

(i.e.,). I think girl time is on its way.

XX. Hi, Hulk.

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

Witness my hand

Yesterday Marvin came over with our official separation agreement, and we had to go to a notary so no one would say, "She was COERCED into signing those papers! She was totally drugged."

So I shot up and off we went, to the UPS store, where they have a notary.

By the way our papers are hilarious.

100_1269Husband gets blue couch. Wife gets brown couch. Husband gets two cats. HOW MUCH ARE WE LOSERS? No, "Wife gets Maui home and husband gets Rolex." I shall be entitled to one cat, two dogs, 80 pounds of fur…

IMG_1019Oh. That's not part of my divorce papers. That's from the poop test I have to take.

100_1266I cannot even begin to describe for you the level of excitement the dogs had when Marvin merely pulled up in his car. WHINNNE! WHIIIIINNNNNNEEEEE! That was Edsel. Who has tons of dignity. He kept running in a circle around the dining room table because he was too excited to stand there.

I feel bad that my dogs are from a broken home. I was, and now they are.


Photo on 4-12-12 at 10.27 AMBoom.

You knew I had to do it. Look how totally over me Edsel is.

Anyway, off we went, Marvin and me, not Edsel and me, to the UPS store, where all marriages end. Special delivery! It's the end of your dreams of not dying alone!

So Mr. McFeeley or whoever witnessed my hand–and that is literally what it said, "Witness my hand," and to be funny I waved mine around a little for the guy–and stamped our paper.

Here's Marvin paying the guy to take me off his hands. WITNESS MY HAND.

Then we each got a dollar. I am not kidding you. For some reason we both got a dollar for dissolving our marriage. Had I known I was in for THAT windfall I'd have done this years ago!

When Marvin and I got our marriage certificate at the court house, for some reason they handed us this bag with a teensy travel-size deodorant, a small box of Tide, and a comb. The dollar was just as weird.

IMG_1034Here is dad in 1998, looking at my Newlywed Sampler. He wasn't super-short then, I took a picture from my little wedding album I made. Thank God I went to the trouble to make THAT thing. Nice spelling of "deodorant" on my part.

IMG_1030Afterward, Marvin and I went to lunch, as you do when you stop being married to a person. I had a BLT. He got french dip. I kept eating his, and it did not occur to him to say, "Stop eating my food, you're not my wife anymore."

IMG_1032Here I am at lunch. I look a little puffy. Unsure why. BLTs are famous for their antioxidant, make-you-slim qualities. Also, don't let me forget I can go back to this place to see some Nascar. You know I'm always on the lookout for a place to get my Nascar "fixin's."

IMG_1031Thank heavens. I abhor those super-complex napkins.

So that was it. After lunch I went home and did some proofreading. Getting married was way more fun because there was dancing and gifts. And, you know, hope. But what're you gonna do?

You take your dollar and you move along.

Friends · June's stupid life · Marvin

Stepford Ex-Wife

Last night I went contra dancing because my friend Charlie told me to.

6a00e54f9367fb88340133f40e18e8970b-800wi-1Charlie is my friend from work. Not that I have a job. He is my friend from not the LAST place that laid me off, but the place that laid me off before that. Have I mentioned "sigh"? Charlie got laid off the same day I did. Forty of us did. It was a banner day.

My point is, even though he is 12 and dates the WORLD, we somehow bonded. I mean, I met him when I was still married, so the dating-the-world thing seemed foreign and so long ago at the time. Now of course it's my life, too, except I don't ever score me any 23-year-old hot girls with tiny buttockals.

What gives?

So, he always goes Contra dancing, and I really didn't know what that was, but last night I decided to try it.

Turns out, it makes me kind of nauseated.

All that SPINNING! Have you ever gone Contra dancing? I mean, it's totally fun and the music is cool, if you can STAND BEING SPUN ABOUT 600 TIMES A MINUTE.

Everyone was patient with me about learning how to do it, but really all you have to do is just sit in your office chair and whip it around 80 rotations and you will get the same feeling.

Ugh. So I had to leave that early, trying not to barf.

You know what I am? Fun. With a capital barf.

Also? It makes my hair big. Which, wow. Stretch! Here I am after Contra dancing, at the gas station, and please note my Pink Beach lipstick. Which by the way, the people at Clinique are gonna be all, "Why the rush on Pink Beach today?" because you have no idea how many of you wrote me to say, "Guess what I bought?"

In other news, at noon today Marvin is coming to take me to lunch, and also to go before a notary and sign our divorce documents. Fun! What an exciting and rewarding day!

Actually, I am less sad than I have been. This whole thing has been–don't you hate people who say "rolly" coaster? But really, when he first left I was all, Oh thank GOD. Seriously, I was relieved. Because we had tried and tried and TRIED to stand each other, and I went to a Rush concert and everything, and we saw 86 marriage counselors.

Okay, three. Still. No, wait. Four! There was this counselor my friend David recommended, and her last name was Newton and she was a PhD. The first time David saw her name written down he thought it was Newton-Pad. I forgot we saw Newton-Pad for awhile, too. Anyway nothing worked. So it was a relief that somebody finally dropped the other shoe.

Then somehow, as the months wore on, I got sad. Which I guess you should, if you were relatively happy for, you know, 10 years or so. But lately I am kind of resigned to the whole thing. And here we are, at the end.

I look a little bit like a very large-haired Stepford Wife in that photo, don't I? Really I was just trying to keep down dinner.

I started dating Marvin, for the second time because we dated in college, on October 11, 1996. So 15 years and 6 months later–wow! to the day!–it is over. Should I call my old boyfriend who I dumped to be with Marvin? How do you think that would go? "Hey, I changed my mind. I pick you. Oh, wife and kids, schmife and schmids."

I wonder what I weighed on October 11, 1996? I can assure you it was less than the humunkulous amount I weigh now.

BigEDDHere I am, with my nice jeans, the weekend I first started dating Marvin in the '90s. God, he had huge arms back then. This is Big Edd. He is in front of Big Edd's restaurant near Mt. Si, outside of Seattle. I dragged Marvin there and pretended to be outdoorsy.

Ack. Well, anyway, that's what I'm doing today, and I hope I don't end up at another gas station, trying not to barf when it's over.

Beauty products · Health · June's stupid life

June’s Most Excellent Day

Yesterday was kind of the perfect day, in that I got to go to the makeup counter and the doctor. You know how I enjoy doctor visits. I find them reassuring. For like a minute. Then I go back to thinking I'm dying.

I had a new doctor because (sit down) my last one quit, and if you have been here more than seven minutes, you're saying, "AGAIN?" Yes.

This time it was the gynecologist who removed my charming fibroids last year, and I liked him. Although remember when I woke up from surgery, and that poor orderly or whoever was wheeling me down the hall, and because I was drugged I kept pretending to be Mr. Potter in his wheelchair?

"ConFOUND it man, hurry up!" and I hit him with my discharge papers. I even said to him, "Youuuu once called me a warped, frustrated old man."

Do you remember that? I am just saying to you, if I was that obnoxious an hour after I woke up, imagine what I said to poor Dr. D.

June. Repulsing doctors since 1965. I wonder if the doctor who delivered me became a gardner or anything?

So yesterday I had Dr. L., and he came highly recommended. The person who recommended him was high. No.

I get in there, and the office is right behind where I had my MRI. Well, THAT was a good time. So this was bound to be just as much of a laugh riot. There was no one in the waiting room, which is what you want to see. I hate walking into a crowded waiting room, although in this case it was just the OB-GYN, so what was I gonna catch? Well. I guess I could have caught syphilis.

My point is, even though the room was nice and so was the staff and so forth, the piped-in music was atrocious. I heard I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore, and I really could NOT fight the feeling that I wanted that song to be over. I heard Have You Never Been Mellow (A: No.) and then I heard …friend's least-favorite song.


(Yes, I DID pick the video that had Andy Gibb in it on purpose. What are you, new?)

Anyway, naturally I stampeded for my iPhone to bug …friend at work about this. Oh! And I totally heard I Won't Hold You Back by Toto. WHICH I HAD COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN ABOUT.


(Yes, I did pick the ludicrous-ist video of this song possible.)

When was that a song? Do you remember? It is one of those songs I have classified in my head as a Saginaw song. As in, I can kind of see myself driving around Saginaw hearing this song, and then never hearing it again till I was in the doctor's waiting room yesterday.

Anyway. Bad music. Is what I am throwing down, if you will just pick it up.

Finally, the nurse called me in, and you have never been asked so many questions in your life. Do you drink? Do you exercise? Do you eat meat? I said, "Are you planning to feed me later? Because, medium-rare."

She even gave me a colon cancer kit to take home, which, SWAG! I am supposed to mail her some poop. I am not making that up. She can't say I never gave her anything. "What'd you get in the mail?" "Oh, bunch of crap."

Eventually she weighed me, and I took off my sweater first, which, why do I do that? Who on God's green earth cares if I weigh 118 or 117 after removing the sweater? Do you like how I tried to get away with weighing 118 right now? The last time I weighed 118 our cell phones were the size of a boot.

And then? Just like on TV, or more specifically Lifetime Television for Women, the nurse said, "The doctor will see you in his office first."


When do you ever in real life get to go to the doctor's office? You know you're always perched there on the table like a moron. But no, we sat there and talked all about my vadge like it was interesting. It was kind of like a first date. Although I don't usually have a poop test in my bag on a first date.

Then we got down to business. The part where he felt me up and even said, "Uterus feels nice." See above re first date.

He wants to give me a test to see if I'm entering menopause, so when girl time comes (and who knows when THAT will be, see above re menopause) I have to call him and say, "My period's here!"

Now there's a phone call you make every day.

When that was over, I stampeded to Belk to get me the Pink Beach lipstick that Jo was wearing the other night.

Doesn't Jo look so much like a tube of lipstick? It's amazing.

So the saleswoman, who kind of had a Kate-Plus-8 hairdo back when Kate had that short hair, was convincing me I also needed lip liner (A: Yes. Yes of course I do.) (I'm June, and I'm a makeupholic. Hiiii, June.) when I noticed the biggest magnifying glass you have ever seen in your life. It was on a stand, like a mirror, only, you know, it was see-through and magnified you 88383848484 times.

"Are you super farsighted or something?" I asked Kate Plus 8 million of my dollars, as she triumphantly got a lip liner.

"Oh, that's so I can look at your skin," she said, as if to the naked eye I was just a skeleton. "I can see your pores and lines and imperfections."

I'd like to point out for the record that you can see none of these normally.

And that, friends, is how I also ended up purchasing pore-reducing serum, because I am totally employed right now. And if I do not see PORCELAIN CHINA-DOLL SKIN in like three days, Ima be pissed.

You know you can't hold me back now.

...friend/Ned · June's stupid life · Times I Amused My Own Self

In which June whips out the Johnson

I gots no idea what Ima blog about today. Did you ever try to blog every single day of your life? Because sometimes it's hard. You got nuthin'.

Yesterday …friend and I went to a movie (we saw Chico and Rita. We totally got to see cartoon sex.) then we had brunch, and there was another Art-O-Mat at the restaurant and of course I bought another $5 piece of art.

TskwI've talked about these 68 times, but Art-O-Mats are old cigarette machines that now have teensy pieces of art in them, from artists from just everywhere. I was torn between getting Scrabble earrings or this wood block, and I went for the block. I would photograph it for you but I am extremely busy.

Should I drive back today and get the Scrabble earrings, too? Please note how extremely employed I am.

Hey, did I tell you I'm freelancing at my old workplace starting later this week? Not the LAST place that laid me off, the place that laid me off before that.


This was where I had to bring in a childhood photo of me, remember? And they put it up in the lobby with everyone else's childhood picture?

6a00e54f9367fb88340133f244bad8970b-800wiHey, will you remind me to pick up a greenish-brown chair?

Okay, I just went into my archives to find the childhood picture, and I found this passage from back in July 2010:

I could not wait to get home and fix my bra straps. All day my left strap kept visiting my elbow, like they were long-lost friends who couldn't wait for a coffee klatch. Like they were Celie and Nettie in The Color Purple. You and me, us never part. Makidada.

Stupid effing strap. I'm certain I looked professional dipping down my shirt all day.

Who cracked her own self up with that? Also?


Here is the thing. Marvin found a lot of funny crap on the Internet and it contributed maturely to my blog. Without Marvin, we'd have never shared the "Hide your wife, hide your kids" guy with each other. I wish I could afford to hire Marvin as a consultant to find me stupid things for all y'all.

…friend is not into the Internet at all. Yesterday he said he thinks the Internet is more a girl thing, which I heartily disagree with. "What about porn?" I pointed out. What do you think? Girl thing or boy thing?

Tallulah just came in here and will not stop obsessively sniffing the floor, and I realize she is a dog and that is her job but it makes me nervous that there is a vole in here or something. I tell you what. If Roger were still alive I'd have no concern that Talu was on vole patrol. You get a blind kitten and a fancy-pants lovely cat to replace Roger, and sure, it's cute and all, but you don't feel quite so…protected.

Remember in Little Town on the Prairie when Laura had a new kitten and it totally killed a mouse even though the cat itself was not much bigger than the mouse? What Laura had, there, was a Roger kitten. And what do you mean no, you don't remember that?

Okay I am off. I have to go to the doctor today for my annual RICOLAAAAAAA! exam. Every year I pull out the RICOLAAAA! joke, and it just gets funnier. Ooo, but before I go, who watched Mad Men last night? That grandma is the best.

Friends · Health · June's stupid life

Where the hell’s my chocolate bunny? MOM? Yes, I am 46.

I actually do not want a chocolate bunny, as I am continuing to attempt thin-ity.

Yesterday was a perfect day to achieve thin-ity–and how soon do you hope I give up saying "thin-ity"?–because I got a migraine. I know I posted yesterday and was all perky-sounding, but as I was typing I was thinking, gee, I feel kind of miserable. Am I getting a migraine? And sure enough. This lovely photo with Nurse Iris was taken at about 2:00 in the afternoon. I was in bed all day.


Lily just walked across the keyboard. Perhaps that is a message to all your cats. You should go get them and let them read it.

Eventually I dragged my sick arse out of the bed, because it was an absolutely beautiful day and no one is allowed to be sick when it's nice out. Here I am in front of a coffee shop, waiting for Dick Whitman to get out the bathroom.

Yes, I saw Dick Whitman again. We had dinner. Rather, I had dinner and he drank wine like the total Richard Burton, Dudley Moore, David Hasselhoff drunk that he is. Actually, Dick Whitman is so not a drunk. But he wasn't hungry yet and I was effing starved, having laid in bed not eating all day.

At one point in the day I got up, retrieved a sleeve of carmel Girl Scout cookies from the freezer (see above re thin-ity), then forgot about them, only to find an empty sleeve of Girl Scout ghost cookies a few minutes later and I HOPE YOUR ASS GETS EFFING FAT, TALLULAH. I HOPE YOU BA-DONK-A-DONK SO BAD EVEN THE PUGGLE ON OUR WALKS NO LONGER WANTS YOU.

Photo 2I had Pellegrino with dinner, to soothe my roiling insides. And look! They put gems on the Pellegrino bottle! It's so pretty!!

BottleSee? It was so lovely I saved both bottles. I have no idea what Ima do with them. Please note Dick Whitman is taking a picture of me taking this picture. Drunk.

Anyway I had to stand up Jo yesterday for our Easter-egg coloring, and she sent me a picture of how pretty her eggs were and I hate everything. I hate my head.

2012-04-07 18.05.13
Look at her signature glasses right there by her eggs. She didn't just take her eggs on the road with her–we were supposed to go to this whole event where they give you wax and colors and so on, and here she is getting a drink after with the friend who DIDN'T stand her up.

God, what a bunch of boozers I hang with. Really, she is less of a drunk than Dick Whitman. But who isn't?

June. Getting sued by her friends for slander since 2012.

I had better go, because …friend and I are going to the movies and if he saw how delightful I look right now, he would turn to drink. Maybe he could borrow some fifths of whiskey from Dick Whitman.

Oh! Happy Easter, y'all! Unless you are Jewish. In which case have a good, you know, Sunday!

...friend/Ned · Friends · June's stupid life

Pink beach. April wine. LaUral humps a puppet.

Sometimes you're hard-pressed to even begin to describe what you did the night before.

However, I will try.

…Friend and I got up with Dick Whitman and my pal Jo, in order that perhaps maybe I could fix up my pal Jo with the Dick Whitman. I thought of it all by myself at the BookUp a few weeks ago.

2012-03-20 18.42.42
Here I am with …friend at the BookUp. I know. I just totally put in a picture of …friend. And look! I'm talking and not reading!

Anyway, Jo is the person who coordinates these BookUps, and she's super extra pretty and she's a writer and she has a bangin' body and it finally occurred to me. Hey! Dick Whitman might be into that type of woman.

I mean, he liked ME.


So last night we got together in Winston-Salem and after .0003 seconds, those two talked among themselves and …friend and I were all, Why did we even have to come to this shindig? Those two are fine alone.

Am totally Single White Female-ing Jo on her lipstick, by the way. In fact, I have to be at her house at noon and am seriously wondering if I can bang this post out and get to Belk before I go to her house. Clinique. Pink Beach. Which is kind of how you can describe me.

Last night was First Friday in Winston-Salem, which in case you hadn't noticed I like going to. They close off the street and have art and you can wander around and get all tanked at the bars (please see Faithful Reader LaUral in first photo above) and just have a lovely time.

Oh, yeah. Because Faithful Reader LaUral and her friend from college joined us later in the evening. And this odd puppet thing had been on display in the road all night, but once it collapsed LaUral had to go mate with it.

You know, it made total sense last night.

You have to admit, it's a tempting siren of a…puppet…thing.

Anyway, I think maybe Jo and Whit, Man, hit it off. I guess we will just have to see. But if they did I am taking full credit for the whole shebang. So to speak.

Time and time again I see, a menu that seems strong, was not meant to be. God, I love me. If I weren't such a pink beach.

Comment of the week goes to Nithya and Hulk.