...friend/Ned · Faithful Readers · June's stupid life · Marvin

In which people are nice to June. Heaven knows why. I guess cause I’m a PRINCE of a gal. A PRINCE! You don’t have to watch Dynasty to have an attitude.

I am eating a piece of toast, my dear 16%, and on said toast is chocolate hazelnut peanut butter. To say I am enjoying it would be an understatement. The neighbors are probably about to call the police. "Someone is too joyous over at the white house near the corner."

I didn't mean to buy the chocolate hazelnut peanut butter. It was on special, as Marvin would say, and it was right near the front door. When you walk in. Don't you hate it when someone is describing a house or something and they start, "Well, you walk in, and…" Really? Do I? Do I walk in? I thought I'd use my x-ray vision. Need I walk in, really?

Speaking of Marvin and his x-ray vision, I got up with him yesterday to sign some more notarized documents. This divorce stuff requires a lot of notaries. I was wondering if Tom and Katie will have to schelp to the UPS store to see a notary, too.

IMG_1610Here is Marvin, showing his empty wallet, because this particular trip may have involved me bilking him for his millions. I was in it for the money this whole time. Mmmm-hmmm! Wrangled me a fifth-grade teacher. SCORE! I am not so much a gold-digger as a Gold Bond Medicated Powder-digger. A Tracy Gold-digger. Although she might have some money, but really? Does she? (Insert obvious "She doesn't spent it on food!" joke here.)

Also, Iris is peeing in this computer room and someone please tell me what to do other than snap her neck. I realize that came from nowhere but it just wafted at me again and I am PISSED. So to speak.

When Marvin wasn't handing me over his riches, I was busy getting lovely gifts from readers.

IMG_1626God, I can crop with the best of them, can't I? Centered? Indeed. Anyway, isn't this pretty? Faithful Reader Pam sent it, along with an Eastern Star hankie, cause you know how I am about the Eastern Star. What a nice surprise! I told …friend about my gifts, and he said, "Oh, it's just like the song I recently wrote: "June Bought the Ruse."

I don't even want to know.

Oh, and who sent me the Nars pencil sharpener off my Amazon Wish List? Tell me so I can thank you.

Then finally, under the category of Peoples Are Nice to June (Have I ever told you that story, about the guy saying to my Uncle Jim, "Peoples is funny, Jim. Peoples is funny."), last night I went out with …friend,

IMG_1623(…friend looks just like a fountain.) (We sat NEXT to a FOUNTAIN. Smarty-pants.)

and afterward, we went back to his apartment, and guess what. GUESS! He RECORDED the season finale of Real Housewives for me, because I had missed it in order to celebrate his birthday. And there at 1:00  in the morning, …friend sat there with his vagina and watched that stupid show with me.

I can assure you he is not Netflixing the first seasons.

IMG_1620But wasn't that nice? What a nice boy. Here I am. Being happy at …friend's.

Tonight, oddly, we are going out to see…Marvin. I KNOW. Marvin is going to be singing at this place in (wait! waaaaiiiit!) Winston-Salem, and he mentioned it to me yesterday as he was trying on a barrel, and I said, "Would it be weird if …friend and I came to see you?" and he said "No! Show up!" So we are.

This is all very European or something, isn't it? Maybe …friend and Marvin will beat each other up. Oooo, I kind of hope so. Wouldn't that be sort of exciting? Who do you think would win? Plaid vs. Plaid! Tonight! Winston! LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLLLLLLLLLE!

Going now, because I have to read as much statistics as possible before tonight. Note how my looming deadline does not interfere with my nightlife. Because I love the nightlife.

 

By the way, I cut and dyed my hair just like that. AcSHUN.

...friend/Ned · June's stupid life · My pets

Bless her watermelon

IMG_1606
Last night, …friend cooked for me, and one of us is better at cooking than the other. One of us makes poison pies. The other makes delicious chicken things.

And by the way, that was my plate. What am I, a linebacker? I have pretty much half of that to eat for lunch today.

In other news, the dogs are at daycare today: http://dogdaysgreensboro.com/index.php?op=webcamfront

When I was dropping them off, I ran into TinaDoris, whose dog Penny is pals with my dogs, and please note I did not say "BFFs" because that makes me want to kill myself. Did I tell you I heard someone say, "This is my BFFeroni!" the other day? Did I tell you that person has literally become Beeferoni, as I chopped her into little pieces and mailed her to Chef Boyardee?

Chef Boyardee. There's a name. When I (finally) get my name changed, I am so going with June Boyardee. Get me some of that Beeferoni money. What are all the stupid things I have said I was gonna change my name to so far? June Dimebag Wasabi Boyardee. Pretty! Has a feminine ring to it.

What if I got totally delusional and really changed my name to June Gardens? That's when y'all should start to worry.

By the way, I don't really know what a linebacker is. I mean, I know it's football-y. Hi, Hulk.

Last night I talked to Hulk on the phone and we got on the topic of my failed pie from the other day. He said, "I have to make an apple pie each year for our Thanksgiving. Did you put tin foil on the crust?"

"I did, but it still burned," I told him.

"Listen to us, exchanging apple pie tips," said Hulk. "Are we on The Andy Griffith Show? Good talk, Sarah."

"It was, Thelma Lou."

The REASON I dropped the dogs off at daycare is because I have a crapload of statistics textbook work to do, and you don't have to remind ME how I Butterfly McQueen'd it last week, with the procrastinating and half-assedness, and now the thing is due and I'm all hysterical. You don't have to remind ME I do this every time. Why don't you shut up with the reminding?

The point is, I was getting ready to get started, and by "getting ready" I mean checking Facebook, when the phone rang. That place? Where I phone interviewed? Last week? Is sending me a test today, and it's two-and-a-half hours long–it's timed–so there go two and a half hours I would have been spending proofreading statistics textbooks. And by "proofreading statistics textbooks" I mean checking Facebook.

IMG_1590This is why the dogs are at daycare. Please see me, in the robe at probably 3 p.m. yesterday (I'd had a MIGRAINE, okay?) (remind me to tell you how I got the migraine at …friend's, and he had to drive me home extra super carefully like an old lady so I wouldn't barf in his car) (at the time I thought, oh how sweet, he doesn't want me to feel worse, but in reality he just probably didn't want to deal with me barfing in his car) and please see Edsel bringing his entire arsenal of disgusting toys to me while I was trying to work. pleeze play, mama. pleeze play wif edz. just one throww. one throwww and edz leaf you alones. …okay just one more throww.

IMG_1601This is why the cats don't have to go to daycare. They mind their own business. And by "their own business" I mean they check Facebook constantly.

IMG_1595Lilee too prettee to sit wif disgusteeng toyz.

Guess who wishes she'd never started Lily font? What a pain in the arse.

I will go now and work on statistics (see you on Facebook!) till it's time for my test. Wish me luck. I could totally screw up the whole thing. What if "foosball" is one of the test words, for example.

I leave you with this, which my father found while he was on his way to the store.

Photo1Sadly, it was cash only and dad didn't have $5 on him. So he had to go ahead and get the Satanic watermelons at the store. Maybe if I'd gotten Blessed By Jesus apples, my pie would have turned out. What say you?

...friend/Ned · June's stupid life

In which June did not kill …friend with her cooking, and also potato talk

In all my 92 years, I don't think I've ever met a person who was so adorably grateful for a simple (!) birthday celebration as …friend was. He was so delighted! And I THOUGHT I had veeeedeotaped his big arrival, which would have meant you'd have had to watch us making out, but in fact I didn't turn the dang camera on at all. So that will remain a mystery, as it probably should.

I made salmon, which is my one OTHER dish besides lasagna. Oh, and new potatoes. I mean, I don't know how new they were. They could have been lying to me. "We're totally new! Just got here! So naive! This copy of Reader's Digest and the part where our phone is a Jitterbug? To ignore please!"

June's blog. Where you come for potato talk.

Anyway, here is the veedeo where the pie went completely south.

 

I went to K&W Cafeteria and spent $8 on a pie. This is what Dick Whitman's mom told me to do in the first place, and why don't I listen to my elders? Not that I am calling you "elder," DW's mom. You are a new potato in my book.

Oh, speaking of the new potatoes, I was driving to get one of …friend's gifts (there is this beer on tap at some of the places we go to in Winston, and every time …friend gets it, you'd think he won a million dollars and that 11 dancing girls were performing for him, so excited is he by this beer. So I went to the brewery and got him some in these giant Laverne-and-Shirley bottles), I called my oldest friend Pal From MA, because she cooks a lot.

"How do you make new potatoes? You just boil them, right?"

"Yes, but you could also blanch them–"

"Don't say blanch. You lost me right there with blanch.'"

"It's EASY!" This is always what people who can cook say. It's EASY! Crafty people also say that. "Making a quilt is EASY! Cross-stitch is EASY! Painting the Sistine Chapel is EASY" Oh, shut up. Will that be easy? If you just shut up?

Anyway, Pal From MA said, "You just boil them briefly, then put them in your saute pan–"

"I don't have a saute pan."

"Yes you DO. I used it while I was there. It's that large, low, round pan."

"Oh, the ROUND pan! Not my triangle pan?"

It was around that time that Pal stopped giving me cooking advice. What a bitch.

But what was I talking about? Oh, …friend's birthday. I also made a salad. With strawberries and pistachios in it. It was good. And I dragged Faithful Reader Chris out of a meeting in Atlanta to tell me how to make his fabulous salad dressing. Really I alienated everyone yesterday.

Here is the final video, since the us-making-out one didn't turn out, where I am yammering on about …friend being late, when really he got there at 7:38. Which was totally our prescribed time. "Get here at 7:38!" Really, though, eight minutes wasn't bad. What a crab I was being and he wasn't even late yet.

I also got …friend a giant cookbook called How to Cook Everything, which I also own, as it has really basic stuff like how to boil new potatoes. …friend is just getting into the cooking, and often I am regaled with a story about how he burned the crap out of himself, or his pan, or his apartment, and so on.

He went on about THAT gift like it was once again a million dollars and 11 dancing girls, and he hadn't even opened the good one yet.

IMG_1587iPod. He has always wanted to stab an iPod with his steely knife. And he just can't kill the beast.

Seriously, you guys. When you're at …friend's house, trying to make out on the couch, and I know you all are, you buncha tramps, he has to GET UP and CHANGE THE CD. We're gonna party like it's 1999. I COULDN'T STAND IT ANYMORE.

And oh. Delighted? Delighted with that iPod? Good gravy. I swear to you we had nothing but iPod talk the rest of the night. "Can I use it in the car?" Yes. "And I can put my existing music on it?" YES. "And iTunes lets me listen to songs before I buy them?" Good god, YES. It's like he just got to the planet or something.

(He had the knife because he opened gifts on my deck, and it was getting dark, and for two intelligent people, that iPod packaging flummoxed us. Once we got in the light and got READING GLASSES [hello, old potatoes] we could see a simple tab you pulled and BOOM, the plastic was off and you could totally open the damn thing.)

So it was a good evening. And the fake pie was delicious. Remind me to never bake again.

Oh, and one final thing. Nora Ephron. Cannot tell you how much she meant to me, really. I just have to sum it up with crap. Crap! Which is a shame, because Nora Ephron could have summed it up much better.

...friend/Ned · Food and Drink · June's stupid life

…friend turns 89. Also, hi, hi, pie!–Update with a news flash: June can’t cook.

It's …friend's birthday, so I got no time to talk to you, girl. Ima make the apple pie he requested.

A few of you said, "Why don't you videotape (veeedeotape) (my poor grandmother. You screw up ONE WORD…) yourself making pie," because this is like a wedding or graduation in that it is rare and celebratory. So in fact I will. I mean, you can't really veedeotape yourself MAKING something, but I will turn it on, much as I turn the world on with my smile, when I have finished various aspects of the pie-making.

Speaking of turned on, wait till you see part one of Making the Pie…

I.look.good.

Oh. Before I go, I wanted to show you something. Yesterday Edsel never took his ludicrous eyeballs off me.

IMG_1561
IMG_1564
IMG_1566
IMG_1568
I was a little bit tempted to pretend I was gonna off myself just to see what he'd do. Anyway, I am okay. You know. Ish.

Okay off to make pie.

XO,

Divorced June

UPDATE!!!! Here are the 9349595 videos I made of the pie-making. Am certain there's a way to splice these into one but have you met me? Plus I have to go cook the rest of the dinner. Holy cats.

 

 

 

 

 

June's stupid life · Marvin

If I weighed more, I’d sing.

At 2:00 p.m. today, my marriage will be over. I mean, it's been over for some time, but, you know. Legally.

I am sad that I failed. I didn't do so badly, though, marrying Marvin. I will always be glad I married him. Even though it's done, and I accept and even welcome that it's done, I think Marvin will always be in my life.

Thank you for marrying me, Marvin.

 

XO,

The old ball and chain.

...friend/Ned · June's stupid life

Tense, creepy and unsettling

IMG_1558Guess who's sick of me. Is it …friend's cat? Did she not sign on for this being-a-blog-star thing and really wishes I'd stick that iPhone in my nethers?

The good news is I brought her fleas. She lives in an apartment, never even really sees the outdoors, and we over here at dogs-in-the-yard land are run over with fleas. The vet and I are practically pinned, so many times have we been on the phone trying to solve this flea circus I have going, over here. In the meantime, …friend said, "Oh, and I found a flea on me the other day. I hope that was the only one."

Yeah. Denial. It's a lovely and productive thing. Last night I heard …kitty scratching and yay! Yay, me! Nice bug-bringing! Sexy. Bringing sexy back. Bringing scratching back.

So how are y'all? Yesterday Faithful Reader Nithya got married, in London, and she totally didn't invite any of us to the wedding. Faithful Reader Davida had a birthday on Friday, and she blew us all off as well. We never get asked anywhere.

In the meantime, this is …friend's birthday weekend, and really his birthday is Tuesday but I keep saying, "We can do whatever you want! The world is your oyester! It's your birthday week/weekend/birthday eve eve" and so forth. I am sorry to tell you that on his real birthday he has asked for an apple pie. I said I would make whatever he wanted, because the world is his oyster, and that's what he wants and I know you're all thinking, "Well, June is such a whiz in the kitchen. This should be nothing for her." Which is entirely true except for the part where I am not remotely a whiz in the kitchen.

Whatever. I have faith I will be able to pull it off, or at least drive through McDonald's for one of their apple pies at the last minute.

In the meantime, yesterday …friend's mom came to town to take him to lunch, and I tagged along because I am a total freeloader. I had always wanted to meet his mom, because you know what? …friend is well brought up. He's polite and opens doors and does all those things you wish boys would do. And his mother is just lovely. She has the pretty accent, you know what I mean? The lovely lilting classy kind. The women in TinyTown had the same accent, and sometimes I'd be in the church office and they'd all be setting something up in the kitchen, and I'd just close my eyes and listen to their voices.

Anyway, I also met …friend's very nice brother and aunt and uncle, and we had a good time, although I'm certain they all feel sorry for …friend that he couldn't get a woman with normal hair.

Because, humid yesterday? Hot? Did my hair grow larger with every second as we headed to that restaurant?

IMG_1551Anyway, afterward, …friend and I got ice cream. Because the world was his oyster. And you know, we say all kinds of hilarious things when we're together and I always think Ima remember what they were so I can tell you, then I get here and blank. BLANK.  Sometimes I think, Oh, that'd be an excellent title for a post and I get here and did I mention blank? I get into some kind of …friend trance or something.

We hung out downtown for the afternoon, and stopped into my friend Kit's store, and she told me Dick Whitman and his girlfriend had just been there. Hmph! Nice NOT CALLING ME when you're in Greensboro, Whit! I'd have blown him off anyway, as the world was …friend's oyster.

IMG_1553Eventually, we went to a Vietnamese restaurant, and I will abstain from my usual Agent Orange Chicken joke, but I looked at my teacup and my tea leaves were smiling at me. That has to be a good sign, right?

I have to go, as even though I just spent every iota of my weekend with …friend, we are going to a movie in an hour. I do not know if I've told you he picks the most depressing movies, ever, and we have seen no less than 20 suicide-inducing films since I met him. We were looking at the trailer for one movie that's out today, and the reviewer wrote, "Tense, creepy and unsettling." Oh, can we? Can we stampede right out to that movie? Sounds FANTASTIC!

"I'm going to see that one," said …friend. "Just not today."

Good. Guess whose world is no longer his oyster, so much?

We're gonna see something about French people and their sex lives, which should be a long movie because don't French people just sit around being sexy all day? When they aren't walking their poodles and smoking Gauloises?

Talk at you later, when I will bring more stereotypes to this fine blog.

Friends · Hair · June's stupid life

Junela Davis. Your bad-ass blogger.

Dudes, I wasn't even gonna blog at you today, but this happened and we need to discuss.

Photo on 6-22-12 at 8.46 AMHonest to GOD. With the afro already. Who am I, the white Angela Davis? Angela_davis_fist Adjgfist
It's exciting that I'm blogging at you from this angle, isn't it? Did I tell you how moving my computer resulted in me accidentally banging my modem and hitting the reset button, which then meant I had no Internet and it took 40 minutes with AppleCare and half an hour with my cable company for us to figure that out?

Once, someone as horrible as me sent me a forwarded email. This guy's wife had died–and I KNOW I AM TERRIBLE, OKAY?–and he had sent this mass email saying he knew his wife was an angle in the sky. Over and over he said it. "She is now an angle. With God." God does a lot of trigonometry.

Okay, see? I actually don't know if trigonometry is the right math word to be using. That's how bad I am at math. Do you use angles or even angels in trigonometry?

Anyway. Oh, and here was my hair last night. JUST LAST NIGHT! IMG_1530
No, I didn't travel through a tornado in my sleep. It was calm when the night began!

The reason I happen to have a photo of me before I went to sleep with a paw is because I had been up listening to the rain and emailing with …friend, and while I waited for his replies I took photos with my phone. Have I ever mentioned how if the house were burning I'd save the phone? I can get other pets.

RaindogmenHere are my rain pals, and as you can see Edsel is feigning interest in said rain, when really all he hopes is somehow Talu disappears so he can be right up on me.

IMG_1527Eventually his wish came true. i dreem of mom.

NotlikebeingupI emailed …friend till I fell asleep, and let me assure you these were some deep, important emails. "Is it raining there?" "No." "How can that be? We're three miles apart." "I think we're four miles apart." I mean, this stuff had to be said right then and there. Anyway, I still had the phone when I woke up so I captured Talu's morning lips.

IMG_1541And my cats major and minor.

This morning, Iris got caught in that window leading from my kitchen to the back room. 6a00e54f9367fb88340128765ab213970c-800wifran come bak from ded to show you window. oh and while you up, $#&#& you.

I was reading (Thorn Birds!) (our deep book club book if you didn't know) on the angry chair back there and she was pawing down at me, and I knew she wanted to leave the window, and my dilemma as a cat parent of a blind-ish kitty was, do I help her or see if she can solve it herself?

Oh, it broke your heart, her little white paw poking at the air. I know her depth perception is the worst part of her wonky eyes. Anyway after awhile she came crashing down on my shoulder, like a demented heavy parrot, scratching my clavicle to Tibet and back, but she did it. On her own.

I guess that's all I have to tell you. I have to go (wait for it) proofread statistics, but before I do, can I show you some vacation shots of a person you don't know? Good.

177432_432549033432859_1778089181_oMy friend Steve and I have known each other since, oh, 1986 or something. We met in Michigan but he moved to Seattle, so we got to be friends there, too. He is on a road trip and put up pictures on Facebook, and this made me want to get in the car and look at ludicrous things so bad I could spit on a mountain-climbing bear with good proportions.

458919_432549940099435_1616268998_oCan you stand it? Can you stand it that you're in your cubicle right now, no windows in sight, and this is out here just for the looking at? Let's all get in the car right now. June's Spontaneous Road Trip!

177853_432550650099364_1696265615_oIt is impossible to take a bad picture of any outdoor plastic dinosaur. Marvin and I must have 80 of these in our photos, which I guess are probably split up now. Marvin, I better have PRECISELY 40 plastic dinosaur pictures. I'm countin'!

177521_432550870099342_898847237_oYour bad-ass server. Dying.

457672_432546180099811_774232198_oReally? Really? None of his loved ones said, "Maybe name it Eat & Run." No one? No one stepped in.

Steve has no idea I stole these, because it's like 7 a.m. in Seattle and I didn't want to be all coffee dialing him in the wee hours. So I hope he doesn't kick my ass.

And you don't need to leave the "I knew these weren't YOURS cause we could actually see the image!" comments. NO NEED. NO NEEEEEED. You know I'll get them anyway.

You are all angles in the sky, you big putzes.

Hair · June's stupid life

Altered June at her altar

First of all, I have half a migraine, so the part where I make 20 errors and am dull as dishwater today is not my fault.

And let's talk about that anyway. I am a readist, not a typist. Sometimes I will make a typo even though I am a copy editor. OH CALL THE AUTHORITIES! JUNE MISSPELLED A WORD! Do I go on YOUR blog and tell you you made an error? Do I look at your COMMENT and tell you you made an error? I do not. If you said, "Here, June. Here's $100. Please look at my comment for spelling, punctuation or grammatical errors" I would then do so. Otherwise I don't. BECAUSE IT ISN'T NICE.

My head hurts. Did I mention that?

Today I had a phone interview for a place. Do you like how specific I am? A place. Anyway the job sounds IDEAL, and you can work from home a few days a week and oh! I want that job. But I am a long way from getting it. Plus my head hurt the whole time and I was kind of quiet. Maybe the interviewer thinks I'm the quiet nerdy type.

Which I totally am.

The other day …friend mentioned Hemingway in an email, and the fact that he spelled "Hemingway" correctly made me like him more. God, I am boring. Some women are like, "What car does he drive?" and I'm all, "Give him a spelling test." And see if he says things like "I'm all." Because I never would.

Oh and speaking of me, and when aren't we, somehow my mother and I got into a discussion about snooping. If I asked you to come house-sit for me, or if any friend asked you to house-sit for them, would you snoop? My mother says most people wouldn't and I say most people would. Tell the truth.

Ima go put ice on my effing temple now, not that I have an altar to myself, although that's not a bad idea. Before I go, I have pictures from last night. Oh calm down. They aren't dirty.

IMG_1520Took dogs for their requisite walk last night, and here is an action shot of Edsel tormenting Kipper's Dick. You know what? Kipper's Dick is SO NOT SCARED of my dogs. She sidles up to me whenever I walk by without them, and when they ARE with me, she walks right up and arches her back at them. If Edsel would just BE COOL, she'd let me pet her with them right there. But guess who can't keep it in his pants? Guess.

IMG_1519At any rate, there we were, minding our own business (!!) when we saw my 97-year-old neighbor Paul. Whenever we see him, we go sit on his glider and talk. Well. I do. The dogs would be delighted to jump on the glider and pant pant pant with their hot stupid breath on Paul and me, but instead they sit on his deck. Paul's daughter always gives them water. They like her.

IMG_1502I tried to take a picture of Paul and me with my iPhone, and you can see I practically stole his soul, with the vast amount of Paul coverage I got there. How symbolic is this? ALL ME! IT'S ALL ME!!

IMG_1505Eventually his daughter took a photo of us, and how afraid of me must he be? HI! MY HAIR AND I ARE HERE! HI HI HIHI HIIII! HI SAYS MY HAIR! HAVE YOU MET MY HURR?

RedskyatnightohohohohohohhhohohohAfter I showed Paul my hair, and let's face it–I showed POPE JOHN Paul my hair, over in Rome. Who MISSED my hair, is more the question–I took a picture of the pretty sky.

Right after I did that, I saw one of the "HI LALOOLA, HI ETHEL!" kids, and for once she wasn't behind her cage in her yard, but rather out playing with another little girl, just like when we were kids and actually went outside and just randomly played and did not have our moms schedule an effing play date with Blackberries.

Awesome
"Why did you take my picture?" she asked, as Ethel wound his leash around me 50 times to avoid her child-y hands. Oh Edsel finds children horrifying. He gets it from his mother.

And you know what? She flummoxed me. Why DID I take her picture, other than I take pictures of everything in order to report it on my blog. And could I tell her that? No. "I, um, just took a picture of the sky and…"

Really I had no answer. No answer for Awesome, up there.

Rudetalu
You have no idea, once children figure out that Ethel is scared (and who wants to just legally change his name to Ethel? It's perfect for him.), how MUCH they want to pet him. I always tell them to leave him alone, because what if he fear bites? I mean, Ethel biting. I know. But do I want that on my hands if it happens? I do not. Why can't they be content to pet the dog who's fine with it?

Photo on 6-20-12 at 11.08 PM
Finally, I came home and moved the computer. Isn't this exciting? It's on the other side of the room now, and you can once again see the lemon labels. I like to mix it up here at House O'June. Marvin used to always tell me to move the lemon labels around to see if y'all'd notice. Maybe someday I will. See how I build the suspense?

Okay, gonna go lie down now for reals. Stupid head. Oh and answer the snooping Q. I know how you forget my Qs when they're buried in 90 feet of text. Or hurr.

June's stupid life · Marvin · Proofreading/Copy editing · Television

Green Bean. Also, Brooks bought me a mink. Did I mention Brooks? Mink? Brooks?

100_1414
You wanna know what's weird about Edsel?

Well. I mean, we'd be here all day. But you wanna know one thing that's weird about Edsel? (And YES. I CALLED THE VET about his eyes. Waiting for call back.) One thing out of the 39494949 that is weird about Edsel is that although this dog does NOTHING but CLAMOR for my love all day long, with the following and the slapping his chin on my lap and the snout snout snout nudging me CONSTANTLY? When I want to hug him or lean on him? He is appalled.

Let's say I'm on the couch watching the (riveting!) season finale of Real Housewives. And Edsel is up there with me even though dogs are not allowed on the couch and how many photos of those dogs on the couch have you seen now? Anyway, it was a special occasion because Edsel just loves Heather and wanted to see what she'd do about that bitch eating the bow off her cake.

And stop being so lofty. Just start watching the damn Real Housewives, will you? FIVE-HUNDRED and FIFTY DOLLARS Heather spent on that cake, and some heifer just COMES ALONG and eats the bow off before the cake is cut.

So there we are, watching our deep show, and I want to, say, lay my head on Eds's haunch. As soon as I do that, he jumps off the couch and falumphs to the floor with a crash. And he always has to sigh, like I put him out so tremendously. "{Flump.} HMMMMMMmmmmmmmmphhhhhh."

Whatever. Edsel is a commitmentphobe.

Yesterday I finally stopped downloading pictures of old boyfriends and finally got started on my statistics book editing. Because, fun? I kind of want to floomp onto the floor and sigh disgustedly.

IMG_1483
I took my work to the Green Bean, which is a coffee shop downtown. Somehow I can get more work done when 11 pets aren't jumping on me. Unfortunately, the only table available was in the front, by the window, so naturally I kept watching people walk by and judging their clothes.

Eventually, …friend came to join me, because he lives right by there. You know what I forgot to do, though? Was take a photo of …friend. Was too busy being all smitteny and ridiculous like I always am.

IMG_1482
After awhile, he left and I went back to my work till it was time for my deep television program. I think Gina's daughter is so terribly gorgeous. And just shut up and GO WATCH THE SHOW. Is all I'm saying to you.

Anyway, after all that time at the Green Bean yesterday, looking at young girls with fabulous bodies and that thing? Where they make every statement? A question? And I want to slap them on the backs of their heads? After all that, today on Facebook I see Marvin has written a song about the Green Bean. Sometimes he plays guitar there.

 

He took this with his hat cam. Who bugs me, with his hat cam? Do I even want to know how much that cost? Who here misses Marvin and his hat cam shenanigans? Anyone? Bueller?

Anyway, so there was my day. I hope you and your hat cams had an equally exciting one.

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

Bloop de Bloo Bloo

I have been very busy working on a new project. I created a folder on my desktop called, "Hi. I've slept with you." Then I went on Facebook and downloaded photos of my exes.

Do you have any idea how many people I have dated who were in bands? In fact, most of them are STILL in bands. Clearly I have a type. In my folder now are several pictures of relatively old men standing on a stage.

And what's funny is I'll be perusing my list of FB friends and stampede right over someone and then a few minutes later go, "Oh! Bloop de Bloo Bloo! You forgot you slept with him and he belongs in the folder!" Perhaps that's not so much funny as tragic. What's even more tragic is that I could be attracted to someone named Bloop de Bloo Bloo. He had a really nice car.

Obviously, not everyone I've slept with is my Facebook friend. There are some exes who hate my guts, and some whose guts I am not particularly fond of. Some of the gut-haters (Daniel Boone) are on Facebook anyway, so I can steal their souls and photos for this useful project. Others are NOT on Facebook, and this means I have to troll the Internet looking for middle-aged white men with totally common names. You think this is easy? Why didn't I go for fewer John Smiths and more Bloop de Bloo Bloos?

And oh. Yes, I DO have a statistics textbook to edit right now. What do you mean I always find stupid things to do when I have a statistics book to work on?

MY POINT IS, and at this point you need to get dinner ready, I know, I Googled an ex and found he is, well, not a celebrity but sort of known in his region. So there was a writeup about him, and his accomplishments (they didn't mention the accomplishment of "wore a beret in college and no one kicked his ass"), and it ended with "He lives with his husband and two dogs in…"

So there it is. The first official gay ex-boyfriend. I mean, we all must have them. Well. Okay. A lot of us must have them. Which leads me to an interesting thing I read on Dooce yesterday. She has a blog post from a Mormon woman who is divorcing her gay husband. She knew he was gay when she married him.

That post led to a post from a gay Mormon man who is staying in his marriage to a woman.

And you know what? Don't judge either of them till you've read their stories. Because I was all ready to embrace the divorcer and detest the stayer, and I ended up totally feeling both of them. Look, it's not my religion, you know? I am not Mormon, do not pretend to be, do not have ANY IDEA what it's like to believe the stuff they believe. But I try VERY HARD to live and let live, and guess what? This guy is hurting no one. Not even himself.

Did you know I wasn't Mormon? I mean, based on the enormous new folder on my desktop? Is it politically incorrect to say "Mormon"? Am I supposed to say LSD or whatever they call themselves? If so, why? Is it the polygamy thing? I really don't know.

Whatever. Let's look at pictures.

100_1398lillee shoot lazers at Iriss. try to fix eyeballs. dis work, you think?

IMG_1478

Have I ever told you that …friend's cat, who you all cleverly named …kitty, walks around with bags on her head? Apparently she has always done this. She sheds the bag, looks around to see where she is, then puts it back on. She can even leap to the top of the fridge with a bag on her head. She is The Unknown …Kitty.

100_1409

And you know what's funny? I mean, you won't be stitching your sides because of this, but it's funny in a sort of interesting way, is …friend's cat doesn't automatically look at the camera, as my photographed-every-day pets do. (Did you ever notice that, Hulk? That I take my pets' photos sort of often? Has that ever bugged you? You never say so in the comments.) Do you think my pets know they're microcosmically famous and that's why they look at the camera? Or do they just know by now that if they look I will leave them the Sam Hill alone, finally. Is that it?

And to conclude, in summation, finally (FINALLY), yesterday was Faithful Reader Dawn's 46th birthday–and Dawn? Hang on to 46. HANG ON TO IT. Because I will be effing 47 in less than a month.* Anyway, Dawn's sister wrote me and asked if I'd say happy birthday, and just to suck up and ensure I'd do so, she said, "You and your uvula are our heros!"

Photo on 6-19-12 at 10.11 AM
So happy birthday, Dawn. My uvula and I celebrate our love for you. And yes, it is after 10:00 and I'm not dressed yet.

*Yes, of COURSE I added to my Amazon Wish List. Because I am a horrible woman who is greedy.

...friend/Ned · I hate everything · June's stupid life

Mad Whitmen

"You have a whole week worth of blog posts in one night!" said Dick Whitman when I took leave of him last night, and he is right.

It was quite the eveeeevening.

And by the way, hey, Dick Whitman, you jerk. He only reads my blog when I post about him. Annoying.

So last night, …friend and I drove to Winston, because somehow the power of Christ compels us to go to Winston EVERY FRICKEN WEEKEND, and also because D.Whit was alone, given that the woman he's been seeing was out of town. Naturally he picked our fine selves to fill that gap.

We started out at Deewhit's (and how many ways am I gonna spell his name today, do you think?) house, which I have mentioned to you and to …friend–about 780 times–that Dwhitty's house is nice. Nice. I mean, let's face it, Wee Whitty D and I never had that whatever to make us a couple, but the first time I went to his house I remember thinking, "Maybe I could find a way to make this work."

6a00e54f9367fb8834015433f67778970c-800wiHere is his front porch last year, with the spilled hummingbird food because I made him feed them, but I did not mean, "Splay it all over so you can feed the ants, too."

I didn't take a picture this year because I left my purse in the house and was too lazy to get it, which is a shame because …friend and DDub and I were out there at sunset, eating the hummus and watching the fireflies, and it was lovely.

"Wasn't the end of Mad Men so good?" asked Dick Whitman, who in case you have not caught on got his fake blog name from that very show. We both LOVE Mad Men, LOVE, and …friend is one of those people who doesn't watch much TV (whatever), so we kept trying to NOT talk about the show, but we are obsessed.

Eventually, we drove into town to eat, not that DandhisW lives way out or anything. Which is irrelevant to the story and I have become one of those every-detail-wait-let-me-back-up bad storytellers.

We went to a Thai restaurant downtown, and sat outside, on the street.

IMG_1468Here is a really super excellent picture of …friend at the restaurant,

IMG_1465and here is kind of a cute photo of WhitDick. Same restaurant. In case you were slow.

So we're enjoying our Pho, and who could not stop with the Pho jokes? Like, …friend would say, "This Pho is great" and I'd say, "Are you just faking? Because it's faux?" and really, the hilarity never stops when you are with me.

Until it did.

Because we're sitting there, MINDING OUR OWN BUSINESS, and you know how I love it when people add that necessary tidbit, when this enormous man came up to our table.

"XCYE DJEOEO OO?" he said.

Honest engine, he made no sense.

"Hi. How you doing?" said …friend, because it was he this lunatic was addressing more than Dickwhi and me. Also, …friend is Southern, so if some incomprehensible crazy person approaches him, he is polite.

"Bqsdds fgkdkd$%ot gjgje++," said the guy.

"Can't understand you, sir, but have a good night," said …friend, who have I mentioned is Southern? At this point a New Yorker would certainly have told the man to do untoward things with his mother, but not …friend.

All of a sudden, the huge crazy guy LEANS DOWN and grabs …friend.

!!!

"Don't touch me," said …friend, sounding all stern. But the guy wouldn't stop, and he was getting decidedly menacing. "I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME," said …friend, who in one swoop got up, pushed the guy and looked really super King Kamehameha scary all of a sudden.

I have never been so attracted to anyone in all my life. Oooo, he was being manly.

The guy got right back in …friend's face, and all of a sudden there was tough Dick Whitman, too, who had put down his mai tai or champagne cocktail on a doily or whatever to come to …friend's defense. In the meantime, I rushed inside.

"There's a scary guy out there. Get the police." Of course, I had my stupid PHONE, probably in my HAND, but clean forgot that part.

As soon as I said that, all the workers rushed out, so the huge scary guy then had me and a gaggle o' three-feet-tall Asian women to contend with. Intimidating! I literally had on flowered shoes. They have big yellow roses. Of Texas. I mean, don't eff with me.

However, me and my posse were unnecessary, because manly …friend had shooed the guy away with his scariness, and SERIOUSLY IT WAS SO MANLY I SWOONED. SWOONED!

We did NOT get a free meal out the deal, which sucks. "Did you totally want to sleep with …friend when he did that?" I asked Whitmanly, as we headed to a bar for a yay-we-lived cocktail. "Um. No," said Whitty, but he had to have been lying. Because I was Edsel at that point, all simpering and drooling about …friend.

So we went to this bar that I have told you about before, where they make really strong mixed drinks (no, I didn't have one) that are old fashioned, like literally Old Fashioneds and mint juleps and so on. We were sitting outside, in the back where no crazy folk could get us, when GUESS WHO WALKED IN?

GUESS!

Not the crazy dude. MATTHEW WEINER. THE CREATOR OF MAD MEN!

IMG_1472A super really good photo of M Weiner. There he is, with the bald head, standing, in blue. SEE???

"Gasp!" said Whitedick. "Matthew Weiner is here. Look!"

Now, you guys. I lived in LA for more than 10 years. I have seen me the celebrities. I saw Ashton and Demi. I saw Peter Frampton (I KNOW!). I saw Nicholas Cage. I sat behind Helen Mirren at the movies once. And yet? Who geeked out?

"Shhh!" said Whittard, who then proceeded to stare at and take photos of Matthew Weiner all night.

He's in town doing a movie. Owen Wilson and Amy Pohler are in town, too, and there have been unicorn sightings of them all over the place.

"Go say hi," said ..friend, and I am sorry. No. I'm NOT gonna go bother a celebrity, even the guy who created my favorite show ever, not to mention THE SOPRANOS, which is my favorite show ever and I realize I just said they both were and shut up.

Oh, Wittyman and I were beSIDE ourselves all night. "If he makes eye contact, what're we gonna do?" he asked nervously. "We wave," I said, because apparently Matthew Weiner is Daniel Boone.

Finally this very young cute couple sat at the picnic table with us, as there was no more room at the inn. I told the young girl that Matthew Weiner was here and she said, "Oh! My parents love that show!"

Wa-wa-waaaaaaaaaaa.

Depressing.

Could …friend have gotten a bigger kick out of that? Did he quote it all night? Is he nine days from being another year older himself and should he just shut up?

Anyway, the next thing you know the cute girl gets up and returns with an absolutely excellent photo of her with effing Matthew Weiner, to send to her mom. "He was so nice!" she said. "Go over there and take a picture!"

Yeah. You're gorgeous and 22. Of COURSE Matthew Weiner was nice to you. "Hey! I'm an old sea hag! Enjoy my hair, won't you? Hey! You might know me as the international blog star June Gardens! Can I write shows for you? I could totally do it!"

So I left Matthew Weiner alone. And had to listen to …friend thinking that line from that girl was hilarious. And I had to be nice about it because he'd so manfully saved me from the crazy guy. Well. Technically he saved himSELF from the crazy guy but who knows? Maybe I'da been next.

And that, friends, is my evening.

Winston-Salem is fun.

Oh. P.S.

Hulk PhotoshopThanks, Faithful Reader Peter.

...friend/Ned · Faithful Readers · June's stupid life

In the dark

 

You know, when I embed videos (veeeedeos) for you, I do my best to find the ridiculousest version of said veedeo.

I just want you to know, I want that man in my house at all times, screeching, "ARE YOU READY TO ROCK AND ROLL?" I want him in the bathroom when I am peeing, I want him in the laundry room, I demand he be at my coffeemaker. Just growling that question at me.

And you know? Sometimes I will be ready to rock and roll. Sometimes I won't. That's what'll keep it interesting.

"Oh, the guy screeching? I hired him. Don't worry about it. You want something to drink?"

Oh. And I think the long 'fro thing needs to come back for men. It's universally flattering.

So, HI! How are you? Are you ready to ROCK AND ROLL???? All 16 of you who comment today need to address that question, or I will delete you. And come to your house and give you a long 'fro perm. With my Toni Home Kit.

The POINT of naming this already-necessary post "In the dark" was because …friend and I spent most of last night in that very state.

IMG_1423
Here is an actual unretouched photo of us having dinner, and this reminds me that my photography seminar has filled up, and I'm sorry, but I'll be scheduling another soon. Those of you on the waiting list will be the first to know.

We did not go to a mine, …friend and me, rather it was just some normal restaurant with outdoor seating, but somehow we got placed in the oh-dear-god-people-are-trying-to-EAT,-place-those-two-in-the-dark section. Everyone ELSE had lights near their table. We? Had no lights.

 

Also the cheetah-print pointy t-shirt. That needs to return. Hulk, go shopping now. Start a trend. Unless you already have one. Can someone please waste their Saturday Photoshopping the long man 'fro onto a photo of Hulk? Thank you.

Can you hear Journey without thinking about slow dances with boys? For all I know, Hulk and I danced to this. Hulk, did we ever slow dance in high school?

MY POINT IS, there …friend and I were, trying to eat but quite literally not being able to see a THING, and a few times I pointed my phone light at our plates to make sure we weren't consuming baby fingers or something, and somehow …friend asked me what my favorite Journey song was. I mean. That's like choosing one of my kids. How can I do it? Nevertheless, I picked Stay Awhile, which I have just placed a veeedeo of here right now, and I didn't even mean to tie everything together so nicely but I HAVE TALENT. And I'm ready to rock and rollllll.

After the dark dinner we went across the street to a dark bar. Well, the bar itself was well-lit, actually, but we sat (wait for it) outside again and (wait for it) it was dark. We did go inside briefly to play fuseball, which I used to like doing till I played with that ruthless arse.

IMG_1426
"I've never heard you swear this much," said …friend, as yet another ball careened into my thing, which sounds way dirtier than it was. Honest to God, I had no chance. And the one time I DID actually knock my ball into his thingamabob (what the hell is it called?) I sincerely think he was just letting me, so I'd stop swearing like Ozzy.

IMG_1425
The only good news is someone had their DOGGIE POOCHIE POO! outside, and he was BEAUTIFUL and you can imagine how I left this alone. Who was a delightful and attentive companion the whole time the dog was there? Was it me? Oh he was such a good dog. He eventually just laid down and lifted his dog eyebrows everywhere. My dogs would have drunk everyone's beer, and pawed people's laps, and used stranger's cell phones to call Zanzibar and just created general disruption and discomfort.

I guess that's all I have to tell you about yesterday. I got a copy editing test from a place I had applied to, and have gone to all the trouble of printing it out, and there it sits on the printer while I blog at you, so thanks for standing in the way of me and my impressive career tract. When I do send back said test, Ima say, "Attached please find my copy editing test. I would love to discuss this position further, and ARE YOU READY TO ROCK AND ROLLLLLL?"

Faithful Reader Just Paula is comment of the week. AGAIN. But when she was mistaken for dead earlier this week it was just an explosion of Paula flavor and she had to be awarded for the 900th time. You know what Paula probably is? Ready to rock and–

Okay, Ill stop.

Current Affairs · June's stupid life

Q.E. + B.W. = TLA

Am taking a break from my hard-hitting morning of reading BOOK RIDICULOUS THREE of that stupid Fifty Slaps of Grey or whatever, and I guess hard-hitting was an appropriate term. Do you know who I'd like to spank? That author.

As if reading THAT trilogy of fine literature weren't enough, yesterday I went to Barnes & Noble with …friend, because we really know how to throw down, and I picked up (yes), The Thorn Birds for our very sophisticated book club here at Bye Bye, Pie. I found myself telling the checkout clerk, "I'm reading this as a joke, sort of." Because I'm certain the clerk cared deeply. Still. It's like the time in the '80s when I bought a Def Leppard tape.

When we were at Barnes & Noble, I happened to see a magazine all about Queen Elizabeth's Diamond Jubilee, and by the way where is mine? Where is my Diamond Jubilee? Could I just go somewhere and you all throw diamonds at me? Because I'm just as dowdy as Queen Elizabeth. Don't I deserve something?

I sat through Rent. Right there makes me Diamond Jubilee-deservable.

Okay, I never sat through Rent. I just thought it was a good line.

Anyway, you will be shocked to hear that as a boy who is straight, …friend is not what you'd call knowledgeable about the royal family, which to me is an abomination. He also knew absolutely, 100% nothing about Laura Ingalls Wilder, and guess who had to sit at my dining room table for 17 hours getting a brief rundown on Laura? Guess who probably wishes he had faked some knowledge, there?

At any rate, I was perusing the magazine and inexplicably, …friend was looking at it, too, and asking stupid questions like "Is Queen Elizabeth married?" when I came upon this.

QueenWhiskey.Tango.Foxtrot.

"Is that Queen Elizabeth?" asked …friend. "Why is she next to Bruce Willis? That seems tasteless. What's she got to do with Bruce Willis?"

I am just saying to you. My birthday is coming right up. Could someone please arrange to send me Queen Elizabeth/Bruce Willis Chia Pets or whatever these are? You know what we need? June Chia Pets. We could make sure the plant grows something giant. Like a Redwood or something. Can Chia Pets grow tumbleweeds?

In other news, yesterday I gave allergy pills to all my pets, and oh, right, thanks for all the unsolicited pet advice the other day. I LOVE that. Love!! Anyway, the vet gave us allergy meds since everyone is still itching and Tallulah? Pill in canned food. "scarf scarf scarf scarf snurfle."

Edsel? Pill in canned food. "smack smack smack smack–der more?"

Lily? Pill in canned food. "lick lick lick cause I a cat, lick–pill gone!"

Then I got to Iris. My sweet unseeing Iris. I mean, even better, right? She can't SEE the pill. And yet? "lick lick lick lick–ebrytheeng gone but pill, mom!"

So I tried again. "lick lick lick. dis gud! throw pill away, tho."

Finally, I had to do the shove-it-in-her-gullet trick. Guess what Iris did? Sweet unseeing Iris?

Photo on 6-14-12 at 2.46 PM i fowm, mama. i fowm till pill gones.

What a DINK. I HATE it when cats do that. And it's the sweetest ones, I swear! You got a bad cat? Somehow you can get a pill down 'em. A nice one turns into exorcist kitty. pill not gone, mom. sow is myne.

Okay, I'm off. I will close with a lovely photo taken last night during dog walk time. After Barnes & Noble, which I have now mentioned three times like it was the highlight of my life, I went to the Clinique counter for my soap, and they had a "Hey! Buy stuff and get a whole bunch of makeup you don't need, including that moisturizer no one ever uses!" deal. So I got home and put ALL my new makeup on, even though I already HAD makeup on for my romantic date at B&N.

So there I was with two layers of makeup on, and it was like Ru Paul was walking the dogs. "You better walk." I tried to photograph it but the makeup doesn't translate. Nevertheless the entire juxtaposition of this photo kind of slays me. I get to say "juxtaposition" because I hang out at Barnes & Noble. And buy The Thorn Birds.

IMG_1420
God, Edsel's eyes look awful. HE'S TAKING BENEDRYL. But be sure to send more…you know.

June's stupid life · My pets · Weblogs

Only service animals permitted.

I wish you all were here right now, which might get crowded and I haven't nearly enough dip, but I cannot BEGIN to tell you how idiotic the dogs are being and I wish you could just see it. There is an orange cat positively strolling–strolling! Like she's on the Champs-Elysees, taking her sweet time–across my yard. She hasn't an orange care in the world.

In the meantime, the dogs have leaped out of their bodies. Their skeletons are hovering up angrily near the window. They have each written an op-ed piece for the New York Times. Tallulah's article: Kat in Yurd SUK. Edsel's article: Yaah, it do.

In the meantime, they are mentioning, "WOOF!woofwoofwoofwoofwoof! grrrrrWOOF! we mean it! woooooof!"

IMG_1414
I went outside to capture no-concern cat on film, but she wouldn't come near me. Please skrinch your eyes as much as possible. This is like one of those pictures with the dots, where if you stared long enough and ignored your entire family, eventually an image would pop up.

I think I have mentioned before that for me, and image NEVER popped up. Not once. Ever. I think those dot pictures are a scam. "Oh! I see it now!" No you don't. Faker.

Anyway. It's funny, is what it is. The cat seems to know that all that barking will amount to nothing so she will continue to roll in our grass. Edsel has had seven strokes while I've written this.

Speaking of my pets, yesterday was relaxing. Even though I give everyone Frontline each month, which does not mean we sit around watching Chris Hansen a lot. Wait. That's Dateline, not Frontline, isn't it? Whatever. Even though I give them Frontline, which when you own four pets is approximately $36,000 a month, THIS month they are all still itching. A lot. It's disturbing to be trying to sleep with thump thump thump thump thump going on next to you all night. It's like I've gone to bed with windup chattering teeth, which let's face it, sometimes I do.

IMG_1411You don't even WANNA know the things I'm up to, over here.

So I called the beleaguered vet, who was nice enough to call me back and not force me to bring anyone in, because hi, she makes $36,00 a month on my Frontline alone. Anyway, she told me I had to "wash everything that CAN be washed, give each pet a Capstar, vacuum every single surface your animals lie on (read: each inch of my well-appointed home), then go back and revacuum, because the vibration of the vacuum will cause flea eggs to hatch."

Which, ugh.

Girl, you don't wanna know. Do you have any idea how LONG that took? And how exhausting that was? Am so over these animals. Oh, and a Capstar is this pill they take where all the fleas die immediately. It's kind of exciting. It was like the Civil War over here yesterday, with all the death and destruction. Unfortunately, Melanie went into labor and I had to step over the dying fleas to get Dr. Mead to come help.

See what I did, there? I referenced Gone with the Wind. Surprise!

Oh! And speaking of books, you all (other than that killjoy Mary) thought reading The ridiculous Thorn Birds was an excellent idea. The Thorn Birds. Oh, I crack myself up. I wonder if I can find my romper and Adidas tennis shoes, which is what I was probably wearing LAST time I read The Thorn Birds?

So read it now, or read it at the last minute. We will meet here the Sunday AFTER Labor Day to discuss. Whenever that is. I guess I should look it up.

One last thing before I go stroll the Champs-Elysees. Of all my animals, who do you think was hardest to pill? Who? Who do you think? Was it blind-ass Iris? That teensy innocent kitten? YES! I put the pills in canned food, and the dogs and Lily were all, Ooo! num num num num num. A can! Yes. They literally said, "num num num num num." But Iris? "Oooo! Can fud! And pill! Eyeriss eat can fud. You can haff pill."

THREE TIMES I had to give her glops of food before she ate it. And yes, I know they make pill pockets. I didn't HAVE any. IT WAS KIND OF A BUSY DAY. All right?

Oh! And how annoying am I, because didn't I say I was leaving? There is an article about me in the local paper today and I am WORLD FAMOUS now. June's blog. Home of the world-famous June. Just when I become a household name, I change my name to Dimebag Wasabi.

June's stupid life · Marvin

“Food Just Right”

Yesterday I had dinner with Marvin because he is feeling blue.

IMG_1405Yes, he IS overdressed, with that jacket, although it was a rainy day yesterday. But on top of everything else, he is sick, and let me tell you something about Marvin. He NEVER gets over a cold. He'll get a cold, then cough for 950 days. I think he has bronchitis, to tell you my medical opinion. He's had it before and oh, his cough is terrible.

Anyway. I would love to fill you in on all the intimate details of everything that's gone wrong in Marvin's life, but he didn't say, "Hey! Be sure to tell your blog readers all about how everything sucks right now!" So I won't. Maybe it's like in The Color Purple, when Celie leaves Mister, and his whole life turns to dust and even his shutter falls off.

I need to see more movies. In the 93 years of writing this blog, I only refer to The Color Purple, Gone with the Wind, and When Harry Met Sally. I am pathetic.

IMG_1306Careful readers will note that the photo of Marvin I put up here is almost identical to one I put up last 4th of July, as he and I like to go to this absolutely terrible restaurant in my neighborhood and sit at the first booth. The food is awful, but it's open 24 hours, and everyone in there looks like they're at the end of their rope. We could never get enough of it. I used to say, "Let's get up at 2:00 and go to The Home tonight."

We never did. And it's not even called The Home. It's, like, Our Home or Your Home or something. I thought I was putting a photo of it up, but as you can see this is a Jesus Saves photo I took when …friend and I were out the other night. Not that we got all dolled up and went to the mission. Romantic!

IMG_1402
Here it is. The Home. And believe it or not, I didn't move to Seattle. I know I keep showing gray, rainy days. Today is sunny and lovely. It's USUALLY sunny and lovely here in the South.

In an email today, …friend told me about how he and his friends used to ride their bikes to the store and get Cheerwine and Moon Pies, then with their goods, sit in the beds of new pickup trucks at a dealership right next to the store. I told him that was the most Southern thing I've ever heard. I love it that …friend is Southern. It's almost like dating a foreigner.

IMG_1404
At any rate, I tried very hard to get you a photo of the "sweat peas" they were offering at The Home last night, and what I really need to do is just bring my real camera everywhere like a huge tool.

IMG_1407
I did not get the sweat peas, nor did I get the masterburger, and I CERTAINLY left that alone and did not make 48 rude jokes about it, as you can imagine. Because, mature?

My dinner with coughy Marvin did not result in him feeling one iota better, as Marvin can be kind of a gloomy Gus when he decides to be. This may or may not have been tough to live with, the whole Robert-Smith-from-The-Cure-is-my-husband thing. Nevertheless, I did try. Cheering him up, I mean. By going with him to the end-of-your-rope diner.

IMG_1408When we got back to my house, Marvin did not come in, but he did kiss Talu through the screen. Kind of like confession. Although you probably don't kiss the priest, do you? Maybe you do. I read Thorn Birds.

Ohmygod, we should TOTALLY read the stupid Thorn Birds for book club. What say you? Maybe have book club right after Labor Day, so you have all summer to read it? Oh! I am brilliant. Last time I read that was in 10th grade and I'll bet it's a fine book. And by "fine," I mean eating-at-The-Home fine.

I have to go. Ima work out. Get some sweat pea going. Let me know about my inspired book club idea.

Faithful Readers · June's stupid life · My pets

Your Teams Revealed

Thank you all for participating in yesterday's highly scientific and also deeply important survey, in which you selected teams for no apparent reason. Below are your results. Your highly scientific and deeply important results.

Because I have spent all morning buying songs on iTunes, I have not culled my photos for flattering pictures of the pets. Instead I said, Oh crap. I have to blog. I better take pictures of everyone and slap up each pet's number of team members tout suite. Yes, I do say things like "tout suite" to myself.

Oh, you wanna know what I bought on iTunes? Is that what you're asking me? A buncha shit, because perhaps you've noticed all my employment and steady paycheck.

 

Velvet Underground.

Amy Winehouse. That poor thing.

I should totally get that beauty mark piercing. It's not pathetic for a 46-year-old to have facial piercings. Is it?

 

Sine-Aid O'Connor. Right after I ripped up a picture of God.

You know, Sine-Aid, someone has to use that microphone after you. Germy.

Anyway. So here are your results.

100_1391Team Edsel and his weepy miraculous Virgin Mary eyes. 16 votes, which makes him the winner. And what is WRONG with you people? Last time I did this, ludicrous Francis won, and I think y'all just like to pick my most ridiculous pet. Is what you do.

I should really get that dog to the vet, shouldn't I? I mean, the weeping has been going on for weeks. It's better, but still. Not gone. pol;`..;/2

Wow! Iris wrote that last part. I wonder what "pol;`..;/2" means in cat? Probably, "yuuu fukkerz. yu meeet eeriss ever? so much better to be on eyeriss team."

And speaking of which,

100_1385Team Iris, 13 votes. "yahhh, grayte. eyeriss eateeng. why you not go look at stoopit edzel now."

100_1392Team standy-uppy Talu, 13 votes. Please note the box in the background. That is paint for the ceiling. I bought it in MARCH. And it has been in that box since then. In the meantime, my ceilings look like Greek Ruins.

100_1393Team Lily, 13 votes. Lillee hylee insult you pick edzul over her prettyniss.

Did you notice everyone got 13 votes except for Big Winner Edsel? Also,

6a00e54f9367fb883401348280d7f7970c-800wiFrancis got 4 votes, even though he's dead. yuu be teim fran! fran hawnt yuu if you not on his teem!

6a00e54f9367fb8834014e89e8ade1970d-800wiTeam Hulk got one vote, and if I'm not mistaken it was Hulk who said it. Then I voted for Not Team Hulk.

100_1208There was also one vote for Team Mom. "I'm real disappointed you all didn't vote for me. Boy, oh boy, blog readers."

That is what mom used to say to me when I did something bad. "Boy oh BOY, June. I'm real mad!" My best friend from high school, Donna, can say it and sound EXACTLY LIKE MY MOTHER. It is uncanny. It is sans cans.

You might be shocked to hear I often did things to make my mother real mad. Boy oh boy.

So there you go. I have big plans today. Ima clean the house, because it's disGUSting, seeing as I've been commuting to Winston every day and then spending inordinate amounts of time with …friend on weekends. Too busy/trampy to clean my own house. I oughta be ashamed.

If there's time, I'm also gonna go to the courthouse and get my name changed. Somehow in the course of many ridiculous emails with …friend, I have settled on the name Dimebag Wasabi. What say you?

At any rate, thanks for voting. Edsel would send you all inflatable underbites if there were such a thing. And if he knew his ass from a hole in the ground.

Dimebag Wasabi, out.

P.S. Tell me stuff to put on my iTunes. I always like your suggestions.

June's stupid life · My pets

Team Annoying

Today is my last day working at that freelance job.

100_1345wut we gone eat?

And since 94956739 people in my real life asked me, I will tell you. The reason my last day is a Monday is because the other editor went on vacation and she'll be back tomorrow. I guess we can always hope she has such a good time on her vacation that she never comes back, like Shirley Valentine.

June. Referencing little-seen movies from 1990 that will resonate with .02 people. Since 2012.

Don't you love my Talu's face? With her pitty bull jawline and how you can tell her every thought? She gets a lot of expressions, my Lu. My Luis. My Louis Farrakhan.

Have we created teams for the new cats? I really can't remember. Let's do it today, cause I got nothing to tell you other than I have no job. Oh, and that …friend dragged me to YET ANOTHER depressing movie. In this case I had to leave the effing theater. It was called The Sound of My Voice. If you are just dying for a 15-minute vomit scene, stampede to the theater now.

Okay.

IMG_1278be teem eye-riss! eye-riss wacheeng you! okay, i not. but wuld wachh you if culd!

Are you Team Iris?

100_1376there no contesst. lilee supeereer.

 Team Lily?

IMG_1229we rully doeeng dis again? ever notiss lu ALWAYS heer to vote on? not like dees come-and-go dispozibul cats.

Team Tallulah?

100_0465"?"

Or (and, really?) Team Edsel?

Let me know. This is all quite crucial and needs to be addressed forthwith. Your prompt attention to this matter is appreciated.

Oh, and could everyone tell me what I owe them? Do I still need to send Furry a DESPAIR! pennant? Who have I not awarded stuff to who has won coveted gifts on this blog? Is anyone Team June? "I'm Team June. She has contests, tells people the inflatable toast is on its way, then never sends it. GO JUNE!"

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

Where had I left Sunday. They never make Sunday. Didn’t I already title a post with this? Where had I left my originality.

That title is only funny if you know When Harry Met Sally by heart. To which I say, why on earth don't you know that movie by heart?

Yesterday I went to Hillsborough with …friend, who I know I'm being super-not-obvious about, but just between you and me I kind of like him. I mean, I know it's impossible to tell. Because could 87 posts in the last month have been about …friend? It'll be funnier when he starts to annoy me, but am currently in smitty-cat stage. Smitty-cat is totally a thing.

IMG_1383Anyway, we totally went to the old cemetery, because I like old cemeteries and fortunately so does …friend. I was sad to see about Faithful Reader Paula H&B's demise, though.

IMG_1385While we were perusing the tombstones and wondering why all the women just had to get listed as" wife of" and "daughter of" instead of just, oh, being a person, this beautiful black cat came up to us, meowing. "Is a black cat in a cemetery a good sign?" wondered …friend, who may or may not think as tragically as I do.

IMG_1376But oh, that kitty was nice. She had a collar, and there was a house right next to said cemetery, so really there was no excuse to steal her. …friend has a white cat, and you know what'd look good with a white cat? Is a black cat. Just sayin'. And I wish I could tell you how bad the phrase "just sayin'" bugs me, and here I am using it. Okayyyyyyy? I just said, "Okayyyyy?" while bobbing my head around and snapping my fingers. Apparently goal today is to annoy own self.

IMG_1257Here is …friend's cat. I took this with my cell phone a few weeks ago right after I gave my Using Super Extra Focus in Photography seminar.

IMG_1375Speaking of annoyed, I noted this tombstone with "Believe on the Lord" written on it. Now, I know I was a church secretary for six months, which should make me an expert, and I really feel like that should be "believe IN the Lord." Right? Okayyyyyy? {snap.}

"How awful would it be if your tombstone had a typo?" asked …friend. "It's really more of a chisel-o," I pointed out, and if any of you are in charge of my tombstone could you PLEASE get a reputable proofer to look at the thing before it goes to print or whatever? Can you imagine me lying there for eternity with "June Gardens, Rest in Piece" on top of me?

Anyway, after communing with the dead, we had lunch, where I would like to announce …friend had a giant hamburger. Am trying to drive home the part where HE IS NOT A VEGETARIAN. "What's a Kobe burger?" asked …friend, who by the way takes 207 hours to decide what he wants on a menu. "Is that a burger made from Kobe Bryant?"

I had fried green tomatoes. And 86 of his fries. So I had fried and fried for lunch. Go, June! Rest in piece!

I do not know why I didn't take pictures after this, because we walked around and looked at old houses, and then we ended up on this mountain trail. There was a very–oh, you know why? Because I said, "Ima put my purse in the car if we're gonna walk around." That's why I took no pictures. You are going to have to pretend that you're Mary Ingalls, all blind, and I will paint you the story with my Laura Ingalls words.

So anyway, there was a very cranky Indian woman sitting on a bench right at the entrance to said mountain path. She had on a really pretty pink-and-pale-gray sari, and man she WAS sorry. What a sourpuss. "That woman makes me nervous," said …friend, who did I mention is kind of tragic the way I am? Wouldn't it be better if I'd met a Mr. Blue Sky kind of person? But no. Death and destruction hover around every corner, in this case wearing a sari.

We left her in our dust as we traipsed this path, and I'd like to mention I had on silver flipflops with a sequin flower on them, which is the shoe of choice for many Mt. Everest climbers. So I was all set. "Oh, no, your SHOES," said …friend. "Are you gonna be okay?"

He asked me that again 25 uphill minutes later, and believe it or not I really WAS okay.

Maybe 15 minutes after that, …friend got out the handy map they had at the ready at the beginning of the trail. "Wasn't this supposed to me .4 miles?" he wondered, with his HIKING BOOTS. "How are your feet? Are you okay? I feel terrible that I dragged you out here in those."

But I was having fun. At this point we had seen three deer, and shot them all immediately, and OH! WE SAW A SNAKE! I mean, sort of. There was rustling in the leaves and GUESS WHAT …FRIEND DID? GUESS! He got a STICK and POKED AROUND in the effing LEAVES and said, "Did you see it? I knew it was a black snake by the rustling sound it made."

Okay, Grizzly and your Sam Adams, am delighted you are so at one with nature, but could you NOT POKE THE SNAKES when I'm here? Possibly? Could you not?

Seventy-five minutes later, we were still on that trail. If …friend had asked me about my feet one more time, he would have been wearing a sequin flower upside his head. Honest to god, my feet were FINE, but he was obsessed. Eventually we passed this huge guy, with the oldest most dilapidated Rottweiler you have ever seen. That Rottweiler looked at us like, "Whiskey Tango FOXTROT. Why I out heer?"

"Did you see that guy glare at me, the one who dug up his dead dog for the walk?" asked …friend. He looked at me like, "Really, dude? You drag that poor woman out here in her silver flipflops?" Who was projecting, do you think? Because if I were that guy I'd be worried about how I was gonna get the dog out the woods when it inevitably keeled over like that mule Rhett commandeers in Gone With the Wind.

The sun was setting as we finally found the car again. I swear to you I am not making that up. THE SUN WAS SETTING. "You know that cranky Indian woman on the bench?" I asked. "When she entered this trail, she was 16. She was out there catching her breath, thinking about how she missed the whole prime of her life because she was on this endless trail."

IMG_1393
Just as we got to the car, though, we saw one more deer. Oh, I love seeing deer. Especially when I get 'em right between the eyes.

In case you haven't gleaned this, I DON'T SEE HOW ANYONE COULD SHOOT A DEER.

Finally, we headed home, none the worse for wear despite the fact that …friend was convinced I was going to have to go to Ready-Med to have my feet amputated. Actually I did find a little blood on one toe from where I must've hit a rock, but I was loathe to tell him.

IMG_1395Back in Greensboro, we got something to eat, and I ran into Anna, who I used to work with. She is the bomb. She attended my How to Shoot Pictures in Low Light seminar and told me she got a lot out of it.

IMG_1398
Finally we went to this rooftop bar, where the world's most ludicrous and cannot-stop-watching-them bridal party was sitting directly behind us. The bride had lights in her hair, and I just need you to know I am so finding a way to put lights in my hair every day. I mean, the hair is noticeable enough, so I'm just gonna embrace it.

Okayyyyyy?

{snap.}

I hate everything · June can't keep a man · June's stupid life

Two fine people who hate each other

Photo-25
Last night, America's favorite couple got together to celebrate their forehead wrinkles.

What the EFF? I pay $275 to get that thing out of here, although in all fairness, my dermatologist HAS rendered that portion of my head motionless, and warned me getting "the deep wrinkle" out would take some time. That's what she called that Panama Canal. My "deep wrinkle." I hate everything.

Whitman was all, "Look at MINE! I have a forehead wrinkle!" but it's more like a barely there manly crease. And he's, like, 72. He's a much older man, Dick Whatima.

Oh my god. I just noticed I typed "Whitman" as "Whatima," which, HOW? How did I do that? I am typing you and also texting Hulk, is my problem, and why do I have so many male friends? What a tramp. He's redecorating Hulkette's room. Naturally he stampeded to my text because I am so good at decorating. Please see my concrete floor.

Anyway. What I keep meaning to tell you, in case you didn't tune in yesterday, was that June 7 was the anniversary of not only my first date with Dick Whatima, but my first date back out here in the stupid universe as a single person. Although technically I am STILL not a single person and could this be taking longer? The court date is June 25. Supposedly a judge will say, "Oh god yes. Grant those two pixies a divorce. OUT you two pixies go, through the door or out the window."

I really need to stop watching It's a Wonderful Life all the time.

IMG_1350
I wore the very same ensemble to my last-night date with Whatima (who needs to get over it?) as I did a year ago. A year ago I went to–who knows? Banana Republic? Ann Taylor?–some store–and grabbed a salesperson by her arm parts. "I'm going on my first date since Clinton was in office. Please help me look cute." The best part of the outfit was the giant fish I dangled at my feet. Oh, and the phallus near my head. Last year I did not have on a Mr. Rogers cardigan, but it's been COLD. What the HELL, SOUTH? South in JUNE? So to speak.

IMG_1349
"Isn't this so much better than last year?" I asked Whitman, who similarly had just gotten back out there on our big first date of aught '11. "We're so not nervous," I said, shoving nachos down my gullet.

I know "aught '11" makes no sense. I kind of wanted to say "aught."

IMG_1353
"It is, and I'm glad we've stayed friends," said Whitman, who then raised a glass. "To us!" he said. "To no spark!" I said. "We had spark," said Whiteman (heee), "We just didn't have mojo."

"What the hell's the difference between a spark and mojo?"

"I don't know. Austin Powers?"

Whitwoman makes a ton of sense.

The only bad part of the evening was that his mom is in the hospital, and he had to go see her. She felt dizzy day before yesterday and hasn't gotten any better, and they admitted her. You know how I feel about Dick Whitey's mom. He seemed to think everything's gonna be okay, but I said, "You know, maybe this would have been the evening we finally liked each other. We'd have blown off the people we actually DO like and finally gotten together. Tell your mom she's a total cock blocker."

What I like about Dick Whitman's mom is she will think that's hilarious, once the term "cock blocker" is explaned to her. I remember the first time I met her, and we were discussing some boy I used to date, who even knows which one, and she said, "I've been reading about him on your blog, honey. He seems like kind of a dick."

And that? Is the moment I fell passionately in love with DW's mom.

So, my point is, everyone please send good wishes to Whitman's cockblocking mom. Our birthdays (we share a birthday) are coming right up and I want to have a dual celebration with her that I was hoping involved Tijuana. So she needs to get better fast.

Anyway. So there it was. A whole year of being back out here, dating, and generally it's been okay, even though nothing has worked out, really. I mean, did I expect it to? I just GOT here. I had to have a stupid year of fitting the glass slipper, right? Which was really kind of a dirty euphemism.

At any rate, I'm glad I got to usher in this new era with The Whit, as he has turned out to be a good friend. I mean, ushering it in with Usher might have been hotter. I hear Usher is super into forehead wrinkles.

June's stupid life

My date with Dick

Today is the one-year anniversary of my first date with Dick Whitman. Even though we ended up being physically repulsed by each other, we are excellent friends. Tonight we celebrate our lack of spark at the same restaurant, and I am wearing the exact outfit I wore last year.
6a00e54f9367fb88340163063909a0970d-580wi
Sent from my iPhone. Because it's the right thing to do.