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

The Riviera of the South

IMG_1854The dogs seem like they know something is up–my trip to Hawaii is in two days. They seem clingier than usual, which when it comes to Edsel, one might wonder how he could be MORE clingy without climbing inside my soul. The past few mornings I've woken up and they are spooning me on either side. Which, hey! The South! In late July! Please, dogs with fur, everyone please press up against me! Thanks.

I've literally washed every item of clothing I own, and now I'm deciding what to pack. Last night I got up with Ned/…friend to see To Catch a Thief at the old movie theater in town, and I practically had on a ballgown. "You look…nice," said Friend Ned ("Friend Ned." heeeeee), eyeing my hoop skirt and taffeta. "I had to wear something I knew I wasn't gonna wear to Hawaii," I told him, swishing my skirts through the theater with my elbow-length gloves.

IMG_1855Can you see the rainbow I captured on expert film on the drive to Ned's? I didn't roll down the window and take a photo in my prom dress while driving at all. Safe!

To Catch a Thief was fun to watch. It's another Hitchcock movie (they're having a whole thing with Alfred Hitchcock at that theater this summer) and this time I got to look at Grace Kelly, which I like to do. Ironically there was a whole scene where she's careening through narrow hilly streets in the Riviera in her car, which was a little too close to home, really. Not that I'm over here blogging at you from the Riviera. Although you do often hear people call Greensboro The Riviera of the South.

After the movie, Ned said, "Who do you think was better looking, Cary Grant from last week or Rock Hudson from this week?"


"Rock HUDSON?" I asked, incredulous. "We just sat there for two hours and watched Cary Grant."

"No we didn't. That was Rock Hudson," said old Siskel and Ebert, over there.

Thank god for iPhones, which enabled me to whip out details of the movie STARRING CARY GRANT, who come to think of it was probably also mentioned in the marquee we were in front of.

Tumblr_m5q1ivN4Yk1rsevogo1_1280Rock Hudson was just one hot gay guy, though, wasn't he? I wonder if eventually we'd have finally gotten the gay vibe from him had he NOT died of AIDS. Who do you think is hotter? Rock Hudson has more of a manly man thing, but Cary Grant was just so elegant. And I know Cary Grant allegedly liked him the menfolk, too, but he also liked women, which would give us all a better chance.

Oh! And while I'm up asking you questions, the woman who may or may not provide me with Botox and Latisse wanted me to ask y'all something:

If you were to get on the computer with the intent of looking for a doctor in your area, and you wanted that doctor to be not a man, what specific words would you put in to Google or Bing or whatever?

Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter.

...friend/Ned · June's stupid life

Armed with Cipro, June Soldiers On. She also solders on, as she is the star of Flashdance. Wait. That would be weldering on. Wouldn’t it?

IMG_1844…friend/Ned left his Swiss Army Knife here, so if today's the day the Swiss Army needs to invade, he is screwed. "We're gonna burst into that country and open ALL THEIR CANS! No cork is safe!"

Often on Sundays, we see a pretentious movie, then have brunch, which is really more dunch because it's 3:00 or 4:00 when we do that, and then afterward we'll come sit on my deck, which turns us into skeletons because the mosquitoes eat every ounce of flesh we own. …friend/Ned refuses to use Off. I think he thinks it's full of toxins or something, which, whatever. What would you rather do, die in 30 years of Off toxins or not get bitten right this moment?

Anyway, my pal Gertrude told me if you point a fan at yourself the mosquitoes won't bug you, so yesterday when he came to get me for our pretentious movie, Ned/…friend–and I am really getting tired or typing that–brought an oscillating fan.

We were all excited to use said oscillating fan but first we had the movie, which had been a source of some discussion. You have never met anyone who enjoys a depressing movie more than Ned/… . Oh, I like that. "Ned/… ." Anyway he'd been reading our choices to me, and one of them was a French film about a quadraplegic guy who gets a caretaker from the 'hood, and 1990 called and wants the word "'hood" back, and I said, "Oh, that French one sounds mos' def. Let's leave my crib and see that. Homie."

Ned and his dots did NOT want to see that one. He said it sounded too happy. Honest to GOD, he only likes a sad movie. "You're a terribly unhappy person," I told him, just waiting to whip out the "I have a UTI and whose fault is it" line should he resist any further. "I'm NOT a terribly unhappy person! I'm a very happy person, in fact. It's just that happy movies are so unrealistic."

So there you go.

Anyway, we saw it. And IT WAS GREAT. (You know you don't have to look at this in the teensy size, right? If you click on it it'll take up your whole screen.)

"A French Driving Miss Daisy," Ned/… said, when we left. Guess who bugs me? Guess who laughed at that for an hour, because it kind of was?

Because he'd been at the beach all week and ate horrifically good unhealthy food, Ned/dot was craving (wait for it) a salad.


IMG_1836So we went to the totally not pretentious AT ALL Whole Foods. I wasn't very hungry, which might be a side effect of my Cipro, and in which case, yay. My Cipro also says, "Avoid prolonged exposure to the sun," which is exactly what you want to hear when you're on your way to Hawaii.

IMG_1842I didn't at ALL lean over and pick all the grapes out of this salad, which I'm sure was not annoying. In the slightest.

IMG_1829This picture might have been more mildly amusing in the BEGINNING of July, but whatever.

Finally, it was time to go to my crib, and didn't I already use "crib"? Crap, I did. We were gonna be chillin' at my house and it was gonna be off the hook. There. I am so fresh.

But when Ned/… got the fan out of his car, it was broken. The neck-y part® was snapped, making it kind of an Isadora Duncan fan, and in MY world, this would have meant, "Well. So much for that." BOOM! Into the trash. But not …Ned. No, sir.

"Have you got any whoo de bloop blees?" he asked, wanting some manly tool thing. This gave me the perfect opportunity to whip out my pink toolkit, so to speak, and once again I'd like to point out I got that toolkit the weekend Marvin left, thinking I'd be all do-it-myself, and so far the only people to go near those tools are whichever poor sap I'm dating when they've been roped into fixing something for me.

Eventually, …Ned decided we needed string, or twine, or something, and we had to go to Target.

I dare you. Really I DARE you, to go to Target today and find string. Or twine. We asked THREE PEOPLE, and all three directed us to different parts of the store (tools, automotive and crafts) and yet? YET? NO STRING!

Tinkerbell-friends-ecardWe did, in our search for nonexistent Target string, see a backpack or something where Tinkerbell was gettin' all cozy with another fairy.

"Ohhh! Is Tinkerbell–well good for her. I imagine she has to go for anyone, male or female, who's her size," said …Ned. Then I'm afraid we said all sorts of inappropriate things about Peter Pan, and after all that, God did not see fit to show us any string.

The point is, we got back here, and with my Hello Kitty duct tape and the twine we got AT THE GROCERY STORE, TARGET STEVE, and with the help of his Army Knife of the Swiss, friend got that poor oscillating fan to stop having a broken neck.

"Good Lord, that's terrible," he said, looking at the four pounds of string and Hello Kitty tape. "Please don't show this to Hulk," he said. And that is why I'm not showing you the poor fan. Because showing it here is showing it to Hulk. Hulk, go off and think about Tinkerbell's lesbian affair so I can show everyone else the fan.

And you know what? It worked! No mosquitoes bugged us. The only thing bugging us was Edsel, who runs over with his blue toy, then when you try to take it from him to throw it he runs away, appalled. Then five seconds later he's nudging you with the blue toy.

No fans seem to work on that.

Health · June's stupid life

Because you’ve been saying, “June never tells us about her urinary tract.”

Before I begin complaining about my urinary tract infection, and right there I know you're riveted and not.going.anywhere, I wanted to show you this.

IMG_1815My Tracy Allman workout requires me to jump around like an idiot, and kick behind me and in front of me and to the side and really I just want to slug that Spencer Tracy with every ounce of my being. The point is, I have kicked both dogs in the snout several times, because apparently they aren't smart enough to say, "mom kikeeng. maybe get out of way to save snowt." This means that when I work out, I close the baby gate leading to the back room so that they can hang there, or open the screen door to go outside. I mean, it's an hour of their lives WITH ACCESS TO OUTSIDE, so how hard can it be to be back there?

Apparently if you're Edsel, very hard.

IMG_1811cant kwit mom

That hour staring at me from behind the baby gate was too much for him, so he climbed up on the cat window. There was part of me, like the evil 99%, that wanted to see how that idiot was gonna get himself out of THIS predicament, and I could tell he was all, "o sheat. how edzul go down?"but the 1% of me that is kind lifted his stupid arse out of there.

I can't decide if him getting up there makes him dumb or sort of smart.

IMG_1817I mean, he's supposed to be part German shepherd, and they're smart. Look at his shadow–total German shepherd smart-dog shadow. IMG_1818But you can't always count on that shadow.

Anyway, I'm typing you and feeling like I really really really need to pee, except I REALLY DON'T HAVE TO, because you know what's fun? Is a urinary tract infection.

It started last weekend, and I went to the grocery store and bought over-the-counter relief, which worked, and I announced to …friend/Ned that I had bought the stuff, because it's important that he know my every detail, and anyway things were great till yesterday. When there came my symptoms again.

I was so miserable this morning that for the first time in my dumb life I went to Urgent Care, where believe it or not they were fast, efficient and friendly. I know! I thought it'd be a nightmare. But really, I was so miserable there was no way I could wait till tomorrow. Oh, it's a dreadful thing.

They gave me a test (easier than the editing tests I've taken lately) and sure enough, I passed! I got a prescription for Cipro and they sent me on my way. So now could it kick in? Could it? Because this is dreadful. Cipro gets rid of Anthrax; surely it can knock out my UTI in a hurry. Right? RIGHT?

My point is, as I was checking out of Urgent Care, Ned/….friend called and I told him what was up. "I really should have gotten on an antibiotic right away," I said. "That over-the-counter stuff just alleviates the symptoms."

"Oh, I knew that," said helpful Ned/…friend. "I should've said something."

You THINK? YOU THINK MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE? NED? Oh, who is in a foul mood? Who feels poorly?

Anyway, I've been in the bathroom so much for the last 24 hours that now Edsel the smart-not smart German shepherd goes in there and just lies on the floor, waiting for me. He sighs and flumps onto the throw rug. Poor Edsel. His love is king.

So that's all I have to tell you, but that feels like enough. I'm gonna go. I think I have to pee.


Friends · June's stupid life · Pieces of Wisdom

Ask Dick Whitman’s mom and you shall receive

A few days ago, we ("we." I totally stole the idea from a reader) decided to write in our questions for Dick Whitman's mom. In case you are just tuning in, and really? I've been here almost SIX YEARS. I was just about to get in the car and go home. But in case you just got here, my friend Dick Whitman has the world's coolest mom.

She was married for 927 years to Dick Whitman's dad. There's an article in the Winston-Salem paper about how DW's dad attended DW's mom's I think it was 6th birthday party. It was some birthday party where she was young young young. So they've known each other for awhile. Plus, that Winston-Salem paper, man. There's some investigative journalism.

My point is, she comments here a lot and she is always funny and wise, so we decided to ask her advice and here's what she has to say.

BStar said…
I don't wish to have some advice about a personal issue but I do admire your ability to have such a love of life, be open to new experiences and people, have a witty way of looking at things and just be so emotionally healthy and happy. Where do you think that comes from for you?
Acceptance of myself and those around me.

Helen said…
I want to know if there's EVER a time a woman can give up on dieting to be thinner. Are we ever satisfied or do we just give up? I'm not saying not to eat healthy, I'm specifically talking about dieting which I feel like I've been doing for 18,754 of the 19,119 days I've been alive.
First, stop comparing your body to those of the models and entertainment stars! Second, see your body as beautiful because it is!

Helen continued (geez. Helen.) MY mom says if all the men in the world dropped dead, all the women would stop dieting, eat hot fudge sundaes for dinner and be happy. What say you, DW's mom?
I disagree, the media holds out an impossible body image  and tells us that is the ideal and we must buy someones product to attain the unattainable.

June Gardens said, after waiting for Helen to quit droning on…
What I want to know is, how can you stand the same person year after year after year of marriage? I mean, were there ever times you felt like, IMA STICK A STAKE THROUGH HIS HEAD, or were you lucky enough to never feel that way? If you DID ever feel that way how'd you get past that?
I tended more to a 'stake in the heart' kind of revenge.  The only way I got past it was when he said or did something that reminded me of why I married him in the first place.

Faith–damn, where are the tissues? said…
I need some advice on a question that is going to make me look ungrateful, selfish, and unfeeling. My grandmother died years ago, and one of my aunts – who has 3 boys – told me at the time that she planned on leaving me some jewelry she inherited from her mother as she didn't have girls to hand it down to (keep it in the family, so to speak). Well, my aunt just passed away last month. So – A) do I even bring this up to my uncle or cousins (who, now, by the way are all married to great ladies)? B) Should I just wait and see what happens? C) Should I put a little bug in my parents' heads about it? D) Should I just forget it and be happy if it happens and accept it if it doesn't? {And the biggest question – how can I stop crying every time I think of her?}
 This is just me, but I would choose B.  There may come an occasion where 'bringing it up' would be appropriate, then I would choose A.  Grieving for a loved one is normal, natural and even necessary–and each of us must do it the way that we need to.

Joan in NV, classing things up since 1960, said…
This is a little like asking the Queen what color her knickers are, but here goes. DW's Mom– boxers or briefs?

(Wait. Did we just ask DW's mom about her delicates?) 

eating myself through this emotional roller coaster dancer said…
I'm at "that age" where my hormones are wreaking havoc in my life. I can't afford my bio-identical hormones anymore so I've been thinking about asking my doctor for the shot that shuts your system down for months – or it might be a year. I'm also two years out from the ex leaving and I'm still getting side swiped from the loss of a 25 year marriage. These emotions plus hormones…oy vey. What say you?
Bless you sweet one.  The hormone thing should be addressed by your gyn doc.  If he/she does not help, find a new doctor!

Tee said…
How old were you when you married Mr. W? How long were you married? What is your secret for a successful marriage, at any age?
We were 18 and were married 59 years.  Ahh, secret for marriage success, love, patience, endurance (throw out ALL stakes) and forgiveness.  None of those actions/emotions are easy to come by–you just keep on keeping on til you achieve them.

Jeannie said…
I have only been married 32 years today. I have put a stake through his head numerous times and he won't die. Do you think I married a vampire rather than a zombie? Should I put the stake through his heart next time?
Won't help, he still won't die.

Amish Annie/Paul said…
Why do some people get mean and negative when they get old? Are they unhappy? (I'm not talking about folks with dementia or Alzheimer's.) And what are some suggestions to help with conversing and interacting with these folks.
Wow, now that is a question I can't answer.  Why do people get mean and negative at ANY AGE?  There are as many answers as there are people. As for conversing and interacting with 'them', converse and interact just like you do with people you own age.

I have discovered recently that people all but ignore me when DW or WW take me places in a wheelchair.  They don't make eye contact with me, they talk over my head and they talk to my kidlets about me as if I were not there.  Being the major bitch that I am, I usually interupt and force them to deal with me.

Texas Kari – this is GREAT! said…
I have a 12 year old daughter, and she's a dreamboat! I'm looking down the road to the teenage years. Most of the issues of parenting a teenager make my heart race. There's a lot of modern advice about these sorts of issues (see: 20 shelves of parenting books at B&N), but I'm more interested in old fashioned good sense. You know, what's tried and true. What kinds of things did you do in your household to keep your kids moving in the right direction?
Cried, screamed, and denied access to cherished activities A LOT!  Teen years are a nightmare for all (parents & kids).  My only advice is to love them no matter what and use your best instincts.

Dawn in DC LOVES the super feminine look said…
Did you buy the orange polka-dotted shirt for DW? If not, how do you like it on him? Also, too, your evening dress is stunning. What do we gotta do to bring that style back?
No DW is his own stylist and I am not fond of that shirt.  As for bringing back that style, just wait; the designers will eventually bring it back.

(I really like DW in that shirt.) 

Anita said…
I have 3 boys and they are all moving away from me. My oldest is in Atlanta, my middle one just got a job in CA (that's so far!) and my baby is now off to college. How did you deal with the empty nest thing? Will I have to resort to the stake in the head since it will be just me and my husband now? Will the way he eats soup ever stop bugging me?
Oh dear sweet woman, this transition is HARD!  You and the 'stake in the head' guy will develop a whole new relationship and you can make it good or bad, depending on how much you can rediscover those things that made you love him in the first place.

: : Garden Girl : : Maybe this could be a monthly thing……. said…
Everything I have is a little lower than it used to be. Gone South. Gravity is not my friend. Well, you get the picture. How is my female psyche to best deal with this avoiding the mirror/preferring candlelight phase? Spiritually? Gym membership? A special affirming mantra? A hypnotist? I don't know…but I hope you do.
Never look at a younger woman's body or clothes!  Keep your eyes and attention on how older women look and dress.

Peter, who thinks DW's mom has her work cut out for her, said…
As for June and Deb, sometimes men refuse to take that big step because, frankly, why should we? Who wants to go into an ice cream shop selling one flavor when you can go into Baskin Robbins? Once you've decided that you can be satisfied eating strawberry ice cream for the rest of your life, then and only then are you ready. And, do you know what? That will be the foundation for a lasting relationship.

My question for DW's mom is this. What can you do to avoid waking up in the morning with a stake through your head?
Decide early on where the strawberry ice cream is and NEVER go back to Baskin Robbins.

(Deb and I were bemoaning the time it takes men to commit.) 

Linda in CO of the bruised forehead said…
Does wisdom truly come with age? I'm talking about the part of the serenity prayer where you get the wisdom to know the difference? Am I ever going to quit banging my head against the wall of things I cannot change, or stop being paralyzed by figuring out this is something I CAN change? And is there anything I can do to hurry this wisdom along?
For me the secret to that serenity was FINALLY accepting myself as I am, and killing that self-doubt witch that had lived in my head.  Once I was able to do that, I was then able to accept others as they are without trying to 'fix' them.

sara with an (h) said…
I can hardly wait for this day to arrive… perhaps it is because my most beloved grandmother is currently on hospice and more senile by the minute and my heart is breaking? I'm not sure if my falling in love with DW's mother is connected with my Grandma situation at all, but I've fallen in love and hope you honor us all with your wisdom and grace.
Bless you and your grandmother.  This is never an easy time in life, but it is a part of life that we all must endure.  I suggest you spend as much time as is reasonable with her.  She may not know you, or remember things –but your presence may give her some comfort and you will know that you have given her back the love she helped foster in your heart.

LauraL said…
Do you regret more the things you did or the things you didn't do?
I no longer regret.  That comes from me finally being able to accept me as I am.

LauraL ALSO said…What is the best thing you did in parenting your children? The worst?
In both instances–loved them no matter what.

LauraL said AGAIN, and GEEZ, Laura…As one ages, does one grow more satisfied with life or more wistful? Why do men act so much like large children?
I have no answer for these.

LauraL! Shaddup already!…What do you do to maintain such good relationships with your children?
Love them no matter what.

LauraL! Stake through your head! God! She also said…I'm sure I'll think of others later, but those immediately came to mind. Those and the how-do-I-avoid-staking-him one.

Tarva said…
When a parent or grandparent has everything they could ever want and they tell you not to buy them a present should you buy something anyway? And if yes what in the world do you buy someone who has everything?
This becomes a problem for all concerned.  I rarely want something that could be a gift and DW & WW get frustrated with me. DW pleased me greatly at Christmas this year,  he went to a high-end grocery store, perused the type of foods he knows I like, and bought a bunch of very expensive food items that I would not buy for myself.  Needless to say, I stuffed myself with a variety of specialty cheeses, chocolates, crackers, preserves, etc.  WW, not to be outdone, gave me gift certificates for massages.

jo said…
Were people crazy just as crazy before cell phones, texting, email and 20 ways to watch a thousand TV shows?
Short answer NO!  I truly believe the Devil invented all the electronic and cell type devices and is undermining civilization.

Another Unruly-Haired Person, now a divorcée said…
I wish you were my mom. Want to adopt me? I'm June's age, if that matters.

Another Unruly-Haired Person, now a divorcée also said…Okay, so my question is, Do you think the overall quality of men has gone down, or perhaps that a higher percentage of men these days are of lower quality? By quality in this context, I mean things like making commitments and sticking to them even when life gets rough, or not lying or only trying to get friends "with benefits" rather than be in an actual relationship?
Wow, that is complicated.  I won't blame men for the changes, but I will blame the societal expectations and changes.

Okay, Another Unruly went to the LauraL school of Qs, as she also said… Also, did just as many couples used to be as miserable as now, but not get divorced in the same numbers merely because divorce was more frowned upon, or did so many more couples stay together because they were genuinely committed to making their relationships work? i.e., if divorce were as accepted then as now, do you think the divorce rate back then would've also been as high as now?
Yes and yes! Absolutely!

BStar said in reply to Another Unruly-Haired Person, now a divorcée….
What happened to the dads that mowed the lawn and washed the cars every Saturday and then took the cars (Mom's and Dad's) to the "filling station" to get gassed up for the week? Then, they came home and got shaved and showered for whatever Mom planned for the evening – a BBQ or playing cards with the neighbors or taking all us kids to the drive-in. Then, they got up the next morning and got all dressed up and smelling nice and took us all to church. Divorce was not part of this picture in any way.
Sports (24/7) on television!  Only 'no account, no good' people got divorces.

(Uh-oh, Hulk.) So there it is! Your answers from DW's mom! Thanks, mom of DW, for playing along. We all heart you and have never once wished to drive a stake through your head.


I hate everything · June's stupid life

You got perdy lips.

Dudes. I KNOW I promised you that today I would provide you with the answers to the questions that you asked Dick Whitman's mom, but I have so many things to COMPLAIN about. Also, cutting and pasting all those DW's mom questions is gonna take a coon's age and I have to get some freelance work done that I've (wait for it) put off and then I have to scream on over to Jo's this afternoon to read her tarot cards.

I'm swamped.


Anyway, complaining will just take me a second, because I'm good at it.

FIRST of all, …friend/Ned has been gone since Tuesday and I hate it. Then he gets back tomorrow, and after a few days I will be gone FOR EIGHT DAYS, and all this lack of …friend/Ned is making me bereft. I realize the part where I will be gone for eight days TO HAWAII makes you a little less sympathetic than you might normally be.

I have still not informed …friend that his new blog name is Ned, and I am certain he will care deeply either way.

At any rate, the day he left I was drying clothes, because I am fascinating, and when I walked past the laundry room (it's like a four-foot-wide closet. The "laundry room." Pfft.), I said, Geez. Why is it so HOT when I walk past there? It's like I crossed the equator or something.

You know why? You know WHY it was so ding-dang hot? The silver hose-y thing® (official name) was DETACHED from the WALL and just SPEWING heaty hot heat EVERYWHERE.

I'll bet my air conditioning was having a good time with that. It was like dueling banjos over at my house.




No, really, you're welcome.

So THAT happened in the evening, which meant I couldn't DRY anything else till morning, and I realize this is not, you know the worst problem in the world. "She couldn't dry anything for the rest of that night? God, that woman is brave." But still.

So I got up in the a.m., as one is wont to do unless one is a bat, and called the dryer repair and of course they said, "We can get someone to call you when he gets time" and I was all, fine, just not between 10 and 11 and guess what happened. GUESS WHEN THEY CALLED.

So while I'm waiting for the stupid listening-really-well dryer people to come over–and did I vent about my dryer enough? BAH!–I looked under the sink, or "zinc," as I hear people in Michigan say sometimes, and I noticed my pink bucket had, you know, liquid in it. Which is not something I did on purpose.

"Say! That's disgustung!" I said, pulling out the bucket to see what the Sam Holy Dueling Banjos Hill was going on. And when I did that? When I did? GUESS WHAT.

The entire black huge thingy® (official name) fell off the pipes, there. The whole thing. BOOM.

"%#&**#$," I said, and have I mentioned my unemployment? And how the place who interviewed me Tuesday has not called back and I don't think they're gonna?

So then I had to call a PLUMBER, while I was waiting for the DRYER PEOPLE to come (those dryer people are hot.) (They have a lot of Bounce in their step) (Robert DOWNEY Junior is one of their technicians) (I adore me, so bad. Why does God see fit to punish me, do you think?), and everything was delightful.

Naturally they both got here at once: the same foreign guy who came to fix my dryer in March, the one who kept saying, "Oh, wow," about my vent. And the sink guy was clearly having a midlife crisis, as he had not one but TWO earrings peeking out his gray hair.

They eyed each other suspiciously. Edsel, meanwhile, had TWO MEN in the house at once, and had already done a preliminary sketch of them in charcoal so he could use it for his 70-foot-long mural he's creating: Edzul best dayy evur.

It turns out the whole GARBAGE DISPOSAL had fallen off, which is not, you know, great, and I opted to not get one at all because I HAVE NO JOB. Midlife Crisis Plumber did, however, have to get something or other so that my water in my sink wouldn't just splay everywhere, which apparently it had been doing for weeks without my knowledge. A whole lotta living had been going on under my zinc and I was over here oblivious.

"You're gonna have a lot of cleanup, ma'am," Earringo Starr Plumber told me.

Dude, it was disgusting. We had to take everything out from under there, and the guy TOLD me I was gonna have to put a fan under the zinc (who has to get over saying "zinc," do you think) to dry everything off, but it turns out whatever sort of tile or whatever was under there was so warped I was just able to peel it off and throw it away. And I'm sorry, Marvin, but any stupid motor oil or car-looking tool or whatever that you left under the z—sink has now been disposed of.

Then I had to sweep and scrub not only under there, but the entire kitchen floor. Good times!

At least it's a little more tidy under there now. I mean, in case you were planning to stampede over and rip open my sink door.

So that was a stupid day, and then yesterday I decided to celebrate by peeing.

And guess what. GUESS EFFING WHAT. The toilet wouldn't flush. I mean, you press down on the thing® (official name) and? Nothing. Now, I am man enough to know that this usually means the chain is disconnected from that other thing® (official name), so I lifted the lid on the tank and, "?" We just bought this toilet when we moved in, I forget why other than the toilet that was in there was from 1950 and said, "Heyyyyy" whenever we sat on it. See, it'd have been funnier if I'd said, It said, 'Sit on it' whenever we walked in. But I didn't think of that till just now. We really need to bring back the phrase "Sit on it."

Anyway it's a weird toilet. So I did the thing any responsible adult would do–I went next door and made my neighbor Paul look at the toilet. Not the OLD GUY who is my neighbor named Paul. My next-door neighbor is also named Paul, and he's my age, and I am sorry if that's confusing. Do you want me to MOVE so my BLOG makes more sense?

Oh, and I'd lifted the flapper thing so the toilet was flushed when Paul came over. In case you were worried sick.

Anyway, he confirmed the weirdness of my toilet, and I had to go to Lowe's and get a new flapper thing, and I had this middle-aged woman who worked there help me find what I needed. Naturally I told her my life story, or at least my last-48-hours story.

"Honey," she said, grabbing my arm. I'm the kind of person who people think I don't mind being grabbed by the arm. The other day a sales clerk stroked my back. Let me just tell you. I MIGHT LOOK TOUCHABLE BUT GUESS WHAT.

Anyway "Honey," she said, grabbing my arm, "I love my house. Lord knows I do. But you are COMMITTED to that thing! It never ends." She seemed like maybe she'd thought this over a lot in her days over there at Lowe's. The good news is she knew just what kind of flapper I needed, and that damn thing did the Charleston the whole way back to my house.

After just 10 hours of me fussing with it and screeching, "@^%&##$" at the toilet, and I do hope the neighbors didn't hear me saying, "Ampersand percent" like that, but I was annoyed, I finally got the thing to work. I am strong. I am invincible.

After all that, the dogs ran in from outside–and did I mention Edsel figured out how to open the screen door and let himself in? That dog is smarter than he looks, which is not saying much because he is Goober's doppelganger. Anyway you have never smelled anything so awful in all your life.

"Mother of GOD, what have you two been into?" I said, still admiring my plumbing handywork. So then I had to BATHE THE DOGS, which is a good time, and there's nothing like lifting 50 pounds of terrified dog into the bathtub all by yourself.

Tallulah is pretty dignified about it, but you'll be shocked to hear Edsel cowers and hides his tail and KEEPS JUMPING OUT of the tub once you put him in. So then eventually you have 50 pounds of terrified WET dog, which is super easy to grip and you don't at all want to run him down to the Euthenasias R Us 24-hour store. You don't at ALL think of driving to the country and watching that underbite get smaller and smaller in your rearview mirror. No, sir.

IMG_1802Don't even TALK to me about how I have to work on this floor. DON'T EVEN TALK TO ME.

You can't even tell Talu is wet, can you? It takes 87 hours for the water to actually drench her fur. I guess it's the Beagle in her? Is it the Beagle that coats that dog in Teflon? Edsel gets wet immediately, but he's furrier than you think, and rinsing him is pure pleasure. Especially when you have to keep placing him BACK IN the tub.

My life is stupid.

You know Anne Lamott? She's one of my favorite authors and I highly recommend her. She says when a lot of things start going wrong all at once, it is to protect something big and lovely that is trying to get itself born–and that this something needs for you to be distracted so that it can be born as perfectly as possible.

If I'm pregnant Ima kill somebody.

Family · June's stupid life

June Gardens. Famous in Greensboro since…well. Okay. I’m still not famous. Crap.

I was quoted in the local paper again today. I am turning into my Uncle Leo. Not that I have become gay and half-Hispanic, although both of those are clearly right around the corner. Oh, and vegetarian. My Uncle Leo is also vegetarian now. Stay tuned for Latina June, your favorite celery-chewing lesbian, coming to this blog soon!

No. I was quoted in the paper today, and my Uncle Leo is FOREVER being quoted and photographed back in my hometown newspaper. Is what I am throwing down to you. He's politically active and he's interesting, and besides, who can get enough of hearing about vegetarianism? And now I've been in the paper twice this summer.

This time it was to recommend good books, which is coincidental, seeing as I asked you all to recommend good books to me just yesterday. I will definitely check out Gone Girl, seeing as 9394050500 of you suggested it. And I am intrigued by the one Cupcake Murphy suggested, about the funny gay Southern man. Since I'm about to become one. Maybe I will comPLETEly turn into my Uncle Leo and become a gay man. I will be my own best friend.

Have I ever told you the fascinating story about my Uncle Leo and how he turned gay? And yes, I absolutely cringe when someone says, "He turned gay" or "He decided to be gay." Bugs me to death. But really, my Uncle Leo started dating my Aunt Kathy when they were in 10th grade, and they got married (not in 10th grade. Hello, Ozarks) and were married till they were in their 30s. They had two kids.

And I mean, he liked him the Aunt Kathy.

Then they got divorced, and I lived at his house the summers between college, because my mother wasn't living in my hometown at the time and besides, it's more fun to live with Uncle Leo. And trust me. He was a dating fool. He liked.him.the.ladies. This I know. I wish I could go into detail but I had no idea I was gonna go off on an Uncle Leo tangent today and haven't asked him permission, and he is in Alaska right now, being gay and Hispanic and vegetarian, and it's like six hours earlier there or something.

My point is, starting from when he was 19, he had this…condition in his brain. Not a tumor (will not insert tired "It's not a tumor" joke here), but something that required surgery, and the condition came back twice more after he got divorced.

After the third brain operation? He started feeling attracted to men.


He spoke to his doctor about it, and I really think they should study him. It worries me a little, though, because what if there's something you can tweak in your brain to make you gay or not gay, and homophobic parents will be stampeding out to get their son, who wants to take ballet, in for brain surgery.

I have no idea how I got off on this tangent today.

Anyway, Uncle Leo would have been the kind of person to never be closeted, so I saw this phenomenon firsthand. And you should see him now! He could not be more out and proud. It's kind of exciting for the rest of us, because he USED to be all into his Hispanic heritage, and we had to hear about that, and watch him wear a sombrero and say things like, "burrrrreeeetho" instead of burrito even though he grew up in Saginaw, Michigan like the rest of us.

"Thaaaaacoo!" Oh, you just wanted to smack him. But now we hear less about his proud heritage and more about his proud gayness. Which is way interestinger.

"Callloraaaatho!" That's how he said, "Colorado." I mean, he still does. He still whips out the accent where none exists and you still want to throw a burro at him. When he'd come to LA, we'd pass Hispanic-sounding streets and he'd SAY them all in that phony accent. "Oh! Loz Feeeeleeez!" "Palllllos Verrrrrrrdeeeese!"


Anyway. I've been quoted in the paper today. Is my point. And Dick Whitman's mom has answered many many many of your questions, so look for that tomorrow. And thanks for your book suggestions yesterday! I will be kept amused on that plane. Say, shouldn't the Greensboro News & Record be flying me on a private plane, since I'm the toast of the town now and all?

IMG_1798P.S. Iris so needs a summer job. She can't get enough Around the World in 80 Plates.

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

Shaft. Can you dig it?

In the once-again completely linear and never remotely ludicrous comments, we have decided to either call …friend Ned Nickerson or Shaft. Dudes, just read the comments. No way am I going through an archaeological dig to tell you the genesis of that whole thing.

Anyway guess what. We're going with Ned Nickerson. I haven't even TOLD …friend that his new name is Ned Nickerson, but I assure you he'll be all, "Who?"

Anyway, how are you all?* Things are good, over here. My job interview seemed to go well, as they alluded to me having a second interview with a hiring manager or something, but that was yesterday and they have yet to set that up, so maybe they completely changed their minds. Maybe they said, "We should either call her for another interview or name her Shaft."

If that weren't enough–and isn't it? Isn't it enough for you people?–I have anOTHer editing test on Thursday (did I already tell you that?) for a different company, and a job interview for a WHOLE OTHER place next week. Now, for goodness sake. Wouldn't a job have to appear from at least ONE of these? Hmmm? Don't you think?

*(The "How are you all" thing reminded me of something Ned Nickerson/…friend said. Am I gonna have to go around saying, "The Artist Formerly Known as …friend and Now Ned Nickerson" for the next month? Because that's gonna get annoying. And no matter WHEN I just start saying "Ned," someone somewhere will comment: "What happened to …friend?" Look at me. Already irritated.

ANYWAY, the "How are you all" thing. Ned/…friend lives in an apartment complex and across the way from him is a delightful snarky old gay guy who has many beautiful plants around his front door, as opposed to Ned/…friend, who has precisely nothing around his front door. The point is, we were walking in the other day and the gay guy and some other man were clearly coming from the pool back to gay guy's apartment, and …friend/Ned said, "How are you?"

Hours later, HOURS, Ned/…friend said, "I should've said how're y'all instead of how are you. Now my neighbor's friend thinks I wasn't acknowledging him."

…! Is this a Southern thing? Well, first of all, yes it is, because "you" is certainly a sometimes-plural word in MY book. My Northern book. Apparently here, "you" means, you know, you and y'all means your gay self and your probably-also-gay friend. Also, really? REALLY? This is something you sit around worrying about? Southerners. Continuing to slay me since I got here.)

 I have to go because I got a big giant ridiculous box of things to edit from the statistics place, and try not to envy me, but before I do, can anyone recommend some books for me? I finished The Thorn Birds, which is our book club book. Click Mince Words with June to see, although I have really no idea if I even updated Mince Words with June, so you may go over there and find bupkis. However, I am just days away from flying to Hawaii (squeeeeeeeee) and need something to read on the plane. Have you read anything good? If you're gonna recommend a sci-fi book save your breath.

6a00e54f9367fb88340177439809eb970d-800wiThank you in advance for your prompt attention to this matter. We are all just sitting around waiting for your reply.

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

Strangers on a blog

Yesterday in my hard-hitting and extremely never ridiculous comments, people said they were sick and tired of calling …friend "…friend."

"Everyone's sick of calling you dot dot dot friend," I told (wait for it) …friend.

"Well, when we first started dating, you were gonna call me Ranger Johnson," he pointed out. So do y'all want to call him Ranger Johnson from now on? Let me know.

We went to the movies last night to see an Alfred Hitchcock film, not that he has a new film out seeing as he's dead and all. "Where's his cameo? Oh, was that him in the ground?"

June. Going to hell since she learned her first Helen Keller joke.

There's a cool old movie theater here, and they show, you know, old movies. We saw Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind there, and Goodfellas, and now Strangers on a Train. Last night we sat up in the balcony, which was way cool. The theater was pretty full, and probably nearly everyone had already SEEN Strangers on a Train a couple times already, but man, we were all completely silent and riveted once it started getting tense. Which Alfred Hitchcock movies, you know, tend to do.

Anyway, it was a good time. I love old movie theaters. Even if there IS no hole in the arm of your chair for your 90-ounce soda.

In other news, I have a job interview today. I know! I also have another editing test later this week for a different company. It's hard not to feel like, "Well. I fail every editing test, so here'll be another one" but I should cut that out. Nice attitude, June. Who are you, Eeyore?

At any rate, this job is in Raleigh, and no it would NOT be fun to commute to Raleigh, but I wouldn't be the first person commuting to a job. Like Faithful Reader Cosmo's Dad, who commutes 394584849 hours a day. Where IS Cosmo's Dad lately? This is the problem with having a blog. You see commenters year after year and get attached and then they disappear. SIREN.

Oh, and before I go and get all professional-like for my interview, someone suggested that we send in old family pictures and I can post them. Wouldn't that be fun? So if you have some kind of cool old family photo, or a ludicrous family photo, send it in by July 31 (I have an "Email Me" link on the side of my blog) and I will put the photos up. Please let me know your name and/or your commenter name if you comment so I can say, "Here is Whooo-De-Bloop's family." What would be funny is if you all told me your name was Whooo-De-Bloop when you sent your photo in. Oh, you are all a laugh riot.

Okay, June out. Let me know about the Ranger Johnson thing. What if someone is on vacation and they come back and think …friend and I broke up and I got all quickly attached to a new guy named Ranger Johnson?

I am berserk · June's stupid life

To be read AFTER you stick the Bic pen in someone’s throat. Not before.

I am certain I have already told you that …friend lives downtown, which is kind of exciting because he's right there conveniently located to shops, restaurants, bars and crime. He's not on the first floor, but you can hear people walking past, and the other day we heard this woman on the phone. "I am just not attRACted to you anymore!" she screeched. You have no idea how bad we wanted to chase after her to hear the rest of her phone call.

My point is, if I am ever at his house we can say, "Let's go somewhere!" and five seconds later there we are. At somewhere. The other night we went to a restaurant right across the street, and the hostess said, "If I seat you upstairs, you should know there's a live band" and we were all, "Oh, okay," all affable, and then it was the loudest jazziest band you ever heard and you wanted to shove a saber down the throat of the singer and swirl it around repeatedly.

At laaaa-aaaaaaa-aaaaaa-oooooo-uuuuuu-aaaaaa-sssst! OW! My looooooo-oooooo-ooooo-vve has come alongggggggg! Oh, shut up. If you start scatting it will be the last thing you ever do.

But that story is not why I gathered you here today. Today I wanted to tell you that on Friday night, …friend and I decided to mosy over to this kind of pub near him, and when we sat down in a booth I glanced over at the bar, and there?

At the bar?

Was the midcentury modern guy.

Also? Since yesterday I linked to Jo's book and then someone left a comment saying, "How do we see Jo's book," I feel like I have to point out that when the text, up there, is a DIFFERENT COLOR, it means it's a link, which you can click on, and I would further like to point out that even my MOTHER knows that, so yeah.

But in case you are off to perform a tracheotomy and have no time to click my link ("Ooo, I really should cut that person's windpipe open pretty soon, but first, how're things going over at Bye Bye, Pie?"), there's a guy downtown who owns a midcentury modern furniture store, and he is impossibly beautiful and plus also British. And there? At that pub the other night? There he was, in personal.

(Once someone wrote me a letter from prison, after he'd seen my picture in my hometown paper, and said, "I'd like to get to know you in personal, June." Oh, would you? Would you? God, that's tempting. What are your visiting hours?)

When I saw midcentury beautiful man, I did the only polite thing, which was to grab …friend's arm and go, "OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod! It's midcentury guy!"

…friend could not be less impressed with that guy, who I idiotically told him about, like, nine seconds after we met. "I live downtown," …friend said, and I was all, "Oh, do you ever go to that midcentury furniture store near you? The guy who owns it is impossibly beautiful."

Why did I do that? Why can't I keep my trap shut? And even more depressing? If MBM (midcentury beautiful man) actually ever noticed that I exist, and if he ever actually decided to go for smart-ish rather than physically perfect women, I wouldn't even be tempted to say yes. THAT is how smitten I am with …friend, and I kind of hate myself. Because there is a large possibility of MBM falling for me in a big way.

This was in evidence on Friday when he LOOKED RIGHT AT ME with not a flicker of recognition. Or maybe he had total recognition because he's seen this blog and thinks I'm a freak.

"I really don't get what's so great about that guy," said …friend, who really doesn't get what's so great about that guy. A few weeks ago? When I was in Saginaw? I visited my old friend AnnNanandAmy–who is married and has 16 kids and who reads my blog when she's not tracheotomizing people–and she said, "Did you ever link to a photo of midcentury man? Is he really that good-looking?"

So I went online and dredged up a a photo of MBM, and right there in front of her husband and 14 of her children, she screeched and carried on and eventually we had to stick a comb in her mouth to stop her from swallowing her tongue.

"OH MY GOD!" she kept yawping. Which is all to say …friend doesn't know from cute men.

IMG_1762And this, folks, was the best I could do. When …friend went up to order a drink, I took the world's most surreptitious shot of him standing next to MBM and then giggled like an idiot.

And that is pretty much all I have to tell you about that. Do you think there's anyone in town who gets excited when they have June sightings? "Oh, I saw that hair woman again! She was at Target! It was so swoony!" And then they rush home and blog about it. You think that happens??

Yeah, right.

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

The June Show! Starring June!

Do you know what must be annoying?

IMG_1777Dating me. Can you imagine what it must be like to wait for THE JUNE SHOW! Starring….JUNE! With special guest star…JUNE! to be over so I can throw a little attention your way?

IMG_1768Written by…JUNE! Directed by…JUNE!

Yesterday my sweet friend Jo threw a (wait for it) birthday party for me, because it IS still my birthday week, and just everyone came and we had a fine time. Well. I did, anyway.

100_1670The theme was, everyone act like June is riveting. Worked for me.

100_1645Jo threw quite the bash. There was food, 30304940300 kinds of alcohol even though she is not that drinky of a person, there was homemade lemonade, which I drank and immediately decided had grapefruit in it, then stampeded through the crowd, interrupting Jo in midtalk to ask about.

100_1663She even got a guy to come sing a song that he, Jo and Dick Whitman wrote, to the tune of That's Amore. Here is some of it.

Whennnn you said you'd stop writing your blog we all said THAT'S ANNOYING

When it's humid outside and your insane hair is fried THAT'S ANNOYING.

It was hilarious, is what it was. My Botox, my marsupial pouch, even my virginity–WHICH IS STILL IN TACT–were mentioned.

IMG_1775There were cupcakes instead of birthday cake, and I took home 495857473 of them. By the way, Peg can't take an uninteresting picture.

IMG_1763What'd I tell you?

100_1681Dick Whitman was there, of course, and Chris and Lilly, and Jane West, and The Other June, and Hibiscus Wilson, and Laura, and Marty Martin and Kaye–everyone was all, "Oh, I recognize you. What's your real name?" to each other,

100_1687And cute Poochie, who wore sparkly pink sunglasses AND gray converse with pink laces.

100_1678Oh, and of course the dolls. If you read Jo's book, you know she has her mom's doll collection, and there was a documentary filmmaker there yesterday to film everyone's reaction to the dolls.

IMG_1766…friend and I went in there together and said what we thought we hye-LARious things about each doll. …friend and June. Banned from documentaries since 2012. And yes, I AM cleave-ing out at this party. After, when we perused all the photos I pointed this out. Turns out …friend had already noted this fact.

100_1679Anyway, people would come out of that doll room (rooms, really) with a post-Vietnam kind of shocked look. There are a lot of freaking dolls.

100_1675She's gonna be selling them, and when she does Ima put a link up, in case anyone has been hankering for a Professor doll. There was also Cher, with an Indian dress. GYPSIES, TRAOMPS and THIEVES! That's how she says it. Traomps. You know she does.

100_1635Anyway, it was a good time, and all sorts of ludicrous things occurred. You don't even wanna know what …friend and Arnold were up to. (Jo made him fix it. Which he did. Because …friend is da bomb.)

IMG_1772Oh! Oh oh oh! And the best part is, I got my Tinkerbell doll! Jo had it, and I remembered it as my very favorite gift from childhood, and I EVEN have a slide of my Aunt Kathy HOLDING the doll and I really need to figure out how to show you that.

100_1668She still has her original box and everything. She was made in 1969, and I got her on my 5th birthday in 1970, and now I have her again in 2012. Good gravy I am old.

100_1651So it was a good time. Is what I am throwing down.

Wait. Are we done celebrating my birthday now? What the… Really? THIS SUCKS.

Books · I hate everything · June's stupid life

Brief. Because June gots work to do and you know how she organizes her time wisely.

Thank you all for your insightful questions for Dick Whitman's mom. I mean, thank you to everyone but Hulk and Furry Godmother, who were on the same page, for once, and that page was ludicrous.

Church PortraitYesterday I showed you old photos of Whitman's parents, and here is a family portrait. Yes, that is our DW, there, as a child. His beautiful sister, who reads this blog and is a nice person and has dogs, large dogs, is up at the top. And there, finally, you can see DW's dad. AND LOOK AT MOM! Love the dress, love her gorgeous face, love that whole, This is my family. Don't eff with me look she has going.

Dadlooking coolHere's another FABULOUS one–and yes I DID just turn into a gay man–of DW's hep parents. ISN'T THIS GREAT? You know I get slightly excited by old pictures.

Photo-25DW and I just don't have that same panache as a duo, do we? Dick Whitman and June. America's favorite noncouple.

Anyway, Dick Whitman's mother will peruse your questions and send me her answers when she sees fit. Then I will publish them here in this hard-hitting blog. Honestly, how much rat poison to I have to INJECT in my head before that forehead wrinkle goes away? Irritating.

Are y'all reading your Thorn Birds for our book club like you're supposed to? Because I am, and right now Meggie is nearly 50, and they keep talking about how she's slowing down, and feeling it in her bones, and I'm all, HEY! I'M NEARLY 50! Shut UP! And then I get up and limp to the bathroom, because I have an ache in my heel.

I got this pain in my heel since doing Tracy Gold and her workouts, but on the other hand I have lost 14 pounds and gone down two dress sizes.

I took this fine photo for you from my computer to show you I actually kind of have flat abs, sort of! For me this is exciting, because no matter how thin I am I am usually a marsupial. I realize turning the OTHER way may have been more dramatic but I am in a hurry.

The POINT is, I went on Tracy Morgan's website yesterday and read the chats to see if any of the stuff she does in her veeedeos bugs anyone ELSE (Answer: No.) (Answer: June is particularly cranky, apparently.) (Answer: Really? It bugs you, June, when she does 30 reps on one side and 45 on the other? That bugs you? The rest of us LOVE it. We LOVE that we're gonna be all Popeye-arm on one side and Olive Oyl arm on the other. WE.LOVE.IT.), and many people were saying things like, "Level 6 is kicking my arse!" "Can't believe I made it through Level 7!"

I was all, Level what, now? All this time I've been using the two DVDs I pulled out the day I got my set of veedeos. Turns out? There are TWO MORE DVDs and I should have been moving on to those because they're EVEN HARDER.


You canNOT be serious.

Sigh. So that was my delightful discovery yesterday, and soon I expect concave abs.

I must go. And work. And not Butterfly McQueen/Prissy said work till the last minute, as is my wont.


Prissy was a jerk.

Ask June · Friends · June's stupid life

Ask Dick Whitman’s Mom

Some of you who've been around this stupid blog for some time may remember a feature I had on Fridays called Ask June. You'd, you know, ask me things and I'd answer them. I forget why we stopped doing it; I probably just kind of got over it, much like how the last time I awarded comment of the week was when I chose Alexander Graham Bell for his riveting, "Mr. Watson, come here. I need you."

But we're gonna have a special feature next week, a Very Special Bye Bye Pie, if you will. Dick Whitman's mom has agreed to be asked stuff.

220980_1971026564241_1276489_oDick Whitman, featured above (no, no, NO. That's DW's mom. I know, right? You adore her already), is a friend of mine who for the first few months I knew him would talk about his mom all the time. He'd quote her and brag about her and it wasn't too long before I said. "I wanna meet your mom."

Then he kept NOT introducing me to her. "I WANT TO MEET YOUR MOM," I said again, knowing I would adore her. Whitman hawed and he hemmed and he finally got us together last year on Thanksgiving weekend. THANKSgiving, as they pronounce it here.

DWMWhen I met her, she said, "You know, I hesitated to meet you." So see? It wasn't even Dick Whitman's doing that kept us apart. "I don't like to interfere in my children's lives, so I didn't want to meet any women DW was involved with."

"Oh, but I don't count!" I said, ignoring the two torrid months of hot romance Dick Whitman and I had had that summer. Okay, Dick Whitman and I saw a couple movies and had brunch at a fancy place once. That's about as torrid as it got. Then we broke up and stayed friends. They should make a movie about that. An Affair to Kind of Forget Because We're Much Better as Friends. Would you pay to see that movie?

My point is, I liked how she didn't want to get all up in DW's business. That she left him to his own devices. Then she gave BOTH of us the advice that neither of us should date anyone seriously until we'd been separated for a year. And you know, we both followed that advice. DW met his girlfriend right at about the year mark, and I didn't get exclusive with …friend until two months ago. Which may or may NOT have been my idea, the not-exclusive-till-May thing. But I can complain about that on a different day.

(Ooooo, it burned me up. How could you NOT want ALL THIS exclusively from date number one? How could you see the WHOLE JUNE PACKAGE and not be worried sick some millioniare would snatch me up while you explored your options or whatever? For the record, …friend never used that horrid "explore my options" phrase, which is a polite way of saying, "I'm gonna see if someone hotter comes along." Isn't that right, TALL BOY? But I'm not bitter.)

MY POINT IS–and didn't I already say that?–DW's mom was right. I had to go through a whole litany of phases that first year after I was separated. There was the YAY I'M FREE!! euphoria, there was the YAY I LOVE A HORRID PERSON! phase, there was the YAY I MADE A HORRIBLE MISTAKE! phase, there was the EVERYTHING SUCKS phase, there was the OKAY GLAD I AM SINGLE BUT KIND OF HATE IT phase and now there's finally the Oh, okay. And look! Here's a nice person I could like, maybe phase.

I finally got into a lowercase phase.

I never forgot DW's mom's advice, and let's face it. Girlfriend has been around longer than most of us, and was happily married for 495854839393 years, and snagged a hottie.

Dwdad(Okay, this was the only photo I could find of DW's dad. Dick Whitman has a GREAT veeedeo of his dad on his Facebook page, but I don't know if you can capture a photo from veedeo. Anyway, you're gonna have to trust me. Dick Whitman is cute, right? Genes, man. They aren't just a good idea. This is DW as a toddler. He is waving at me because I'm off to the side with my cell phone, capturing this moment for Bye Bye 1960 Pie.)

Anyway. We who read my comments adore Dick Whitman's mom, and we know she's funny and we know she gots her the wisdom, so if you wanna ask her anything? About life, your hair, drawer liners, what her favorite commercial is, how she feels about horses, does she prefer the Euro or the dollar, anything at all, ask here in the comments and sometime next week she will answer the Qs she feels like answering. She's DW's mom, dudes. She can do what she wants.

So go ahead. Ask Dick Whitman's Mom.

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

The good news is Dick Whitman took most of the photographs in this one

Do you remember a few months back when I had a coffeemaker quandary? I was using a percolater but the coffee got old fast, and the french press left too many grounds and hello, first-world problems? I asked y'all to recommend a coffeemaker, and I got a Bunn, not only because you mentioned it but because I'd had one in the '80s and loved it.

I STILL LOVE ME THE BUNN! Oh, it is SUCH a good coffeemaker. Your coffee comes out really fast, and it stays fresh, AND the thing was cheapish, compared to the $250 pretentious ones. I want to say $70 or something. I mean, I just want to say that. I can't remember what I paid. Because I'm wealthy. Money is meaningless to me.

So, in case you've been on edge and all, DON'T LEAVE US HANGING, JUNE! about what I decided on the coffeemaker, I could not be happier with my Bunn. So to speak.

IMG_1735I got up with the Dick Whitman last night. We had dinner to celebrate (wait for it) my birthday. "Ima have to blog about this, and it's day three of my birthday on that blog," I said.

"Day three. Kind of like a hostage situation," DW mused.

"Yes, and the hostages are my readers."

IMG_1736The good news is, his mom really DID read my blog yesterday and called DW to tell him to return my book. THANKS, DW's mom!!

IMG_1738We ate at Reynolda House. Well, not the house itself, but one of the restaurants there. Reynolda House is where the Reynolds cigarette guy lived, and on his property were all these cute houses for the workers, which have now been turned into shops and restaurants and so forth. Yay, tobacco!

IMG_1748What a phony smile.

IMG_1745After, we walked around the fancy gardens, there, at Reynolda House as the sun was setting. We named all the ways you can die from cigarettes, then listed who of our loved ones died from smoking and how. It was so romantic.

IMG_1744Small-cell lung cancer, esophageal cancer, throat cancer, heart attack…

Dick Whitman wanted me to say something about June Gardens in a July garden, here, so I did. Also, yes it WAS a little humid yesterday. Shut up.

IMG_1743Every time there were pink flowers, I'd say, "Ooo!" Every time there were orange flowers, DW'd say, "Ooo!" His favorite color is orange. He has to be all artist-y about his favorite color. …friend likes navy blue. Doesn't that make him seem stable? Navy blue. Stay-bility and fire. Remember that psychic who predicted ..friend? "I see someone coming along and you'll have stay-bility and fire."

How'd I get off on that tangent?

IMG_1747Dick Whitman made me straddle a rose bush with my pink pants to get this shot. Totally got a thorn in my calf.

IMG_1746"Ooo!" said DW.

All this just makes me feel guilty that I neglect my yard. I should be out there planting pink things. Then smoking a giant giant cigarette from our friends at RJ Reynolds.

God, I can't WAIT to get the big cigarette money from this post.

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

In which you will grow increasingly annoyed that you do not have my Aunt Mary as your personal aunt.

I have to kind of hurry today, as I have freelance work to do (yay!), but there are many photographs to show you, and downloading or uploading or totin' the weary load takes time, and if a picture paints a thousand words then why do I have to add a thousand more?

In case you did not get my announcement via Internet, skywriting, leaflets dropped from a helicopter and the tattoo I put on your mother, yesterday was my birthday. I am an only grandchild and only niece on one side of my family, and as a result get gifts up my butt from that side of the family. I mean, when my grandmother was alive, her gifts combined with gifts from my Aunt Mary would take me an hour and a half to open.

I don't think this has ruined me in any way. I mean, I am ruined for all other reasons, but the showering with gifts wasn't that bad for me. I don't think.

100_1511Aunt Mary's package, so to speak, did not arrive till late afternoon. Tallulah dragged it in. Anyway, please note it was not her fault–she mailed them nine days ago. Also, please enjoy my flowers from my friend Dottie. I know! My birthday. A day for the fuss.

100_1509we not fuzzin over edzel today?

No, we not.

100B1540Love the card. Hello, my life.

100_1591I opened these first and really she could have gotten away with just sending me this and that would have sufficed. I loved these when I first saw them, and THEN I saw her note that this mirror and brush belonged to my great-grandmother, the one whose taste I always share, and the one who wore the same perfume I do, which I didn't know till Aunt Mary said, "Why do you have that perfume?"

100_1592Excellent pink tropical robe, and Edsel.

100_1599Blurry bracelet. Dude, YOU try taking a picture of your own wrist with a real camera.

100_1606Pretty put-a-bird-on-it bird magnets! When …friend saw these, he said, "Is that a bluebird? They are so delicious." Who made out with himself right after? Who gave himself his own class ring?

100_1604Books that belonged to my grandmother! She wrote her name on the inside! So cool.

100_1610CUTEST KITCHEN TOWELS EVER. …friend did not mention that these were delicious, and for that I am glad.

100_1611A purse made from the Los Angeles Times. SQUEE!

100_1612Sometimes Aunt Mary throws little things in–like when you get a bag from her, you always have to check the pockets, as she will add another gift there. This moon face I want to use for my next blog design, if I can ever afford to redesign. Anyway, inside?

100_1613Bookmarks that help you remember who you loaned books to! Which reminds me, Dick Whitman's mom? Will you tell DW that he has had my Charlotte's Web for a year now? He only reads when I blog about him but I know you read every day. Ima see him tonight so if you could alert him that would be lovely.

Yesterday was also DW's mom's birthday. I had her phone number to call her, and I swear to you EVERY FIVE MINUTES my phone rang and I could never call her.

100_1614See? Each bookmark has a different saying. That should be an em dash and not a hyphen after "storm." I'll be okay…

100_1617Pop-up sponges, which Edsel tried to eat. I should have let him just to see the more-surprised-than-happy look he got when the dang thing popped up.

100_1618Anyway. After work, …friend came over, and here is the card he gave me. …friend likes him the dinosaurs and I am annoyed I did not find this card on HIS birthday.

100_1619I don't know if I've told you that Lily is hopelessly in love with …friend. He does this rough petting thing that I thought would appal her, and in fact old likes-it-rough Lily cannot get enough. Fifty Shades of Gray Cat, is what they've got going.

100_1620The photos on my desktop are really not that seeable when I upload them. Eds tounging his disgusting bone is not really part of this series. To ignore, please. By the way, I was lucky enough to wake up with that bone right next to my pillow today. Just like a chocolate when you stay at the Ritz.

100_1621…friend got me a cake. When they asked, "What color writing?" he was all, Pfft.

100_1624He even brought candles. Who is the nicest boy ever?

100_1625Pink lemonade flavor. I KNOW!

100_1629Lu may or may not have enjoyed a touch of the frosting.

100_1631Oh, and he also got me lilies, which Lily took as further evidence that …friend prefers her over me.

We went to dinner at a Thai place, which was ludicrously good, and then when we came back …friend gave me a gift certificate to a spa, and he got me one of the spa packages, which I have ALWAYS wanted someone to do. You know how you're looking at the brochure, deciding what to get, and over on the side it's all, The Pregnancy Package! The Wedding Package! The You're 47 and Hopelessly Vain Package! Always. I have always wished someone would say, Gee, June would like this.

Now someone has.

So it was a good birthday. And it's not over yet! Today I get together to celebrate with the Dick and his Whitman. On Saturday my friend Jo is having a party for my bday. Who am I, Queen Elizabeth?

We'll talk at you later.

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

47. Oy, I’m old.

Dudes, I keep TRYING to write this post and the phone keeps ringing with the birthday greetings, and I abhor it when my actual life interferes with my blog. I'm all, "I GOTTA GO! I GOTTA WRITE TO PEOPLE I'VE NEVER MET, MOM! God!"

Anyway here it is my birthday.

ScanThis is from my sixth bday. Once again I'd like to thank mom and dad for dyking out my hair when I was six. My gay lover, Pal from MA, is featured here with me in our matching dresses. We were what you might call close friends, and our poor parents had to make sure EVERYTHING MATCHED on us. We had matching sandals, too, but I see on this day we let our freak flags fly with different footwear.

We also had a matching stuffed owl named Ugg-Ugg, and we still OWN our Ugg-Uggs. Our owls had nothing to do with boots. We were sporting Ugg-Uggs before they were cool.

22Nice. I am 22, here, with my friend Donna, the one I went to New Orleans with last year. In case you were wondering WHO DAT?

Anyway. So I opened some gifts this a.m. and why don't you look at them with me? Hmmm? Why don't you?

…Okay, six hours later. You guys, I have SO MANY pictures in my iPhoto files, and I must find some better way to categorize them. Do you know how many ding-dang pictures–FINE pictures–I take for this blog? Anyway, Faithful Reader Deb sent me a necklace and I couldn't find any photos of it but here is a crystal-clear one.

Don't you totally feel like a fly on the wall of my necklace?

Il_fullxfull.323165299Here. This is a photo I took of my own smooth skin. Alternatively, here is a photo of the item on Etsy. Faithful Reader Deb sent me a necklace with my own new last name's initial. Spray. S for Spray. I'm Violetta Spray, how do you do?

Faithful Reader Emily also got me the Nars eye pencil sharpener I asked for, on my Amazon Wish List. Amazon. Wish for things, and you get them.

100_1496For a few days now, I've had gifts sitting there torturing me, from my friend-in-real-life Paula and from Faithful Reader Paula.

100_1505Friend-in-real-life Paula sent me a Queen Elizabeth waving action figure. She's solar-powered, much like the real queen. I put her in the window so she can say, "We're gonna soak up the sun. We're gonna tell everyone to lighten up."

Get it? Instead of I'm gonna? The royal we? Stay with me, there, Sparky.

100_1506I don't know why everyone chose kind of a pink theme.

100_1508Look! Pink leopard slippers from Faithful Reader Paula! Also? Clear. Clear shot of the slippers, taken by the cougar in the leopard.

333329_136515759820844_297309638_o(1)Speaking of cougars, Faithful Readers Beverly, Tee, Sadie and her uvula and Laurie got together in Atlanta to celebrate my birthday. I was not there, and I am beginning to think that was irrelevant.

534634_3997852638964_1049383149_nI told them I felt they should wear these head things at all times. Job interviews, mowing the lawn, church.

QuestionbevxDear Beverly,

Getting just the right amount of blur comes with experience. Once you have been blogging as long as I have, only then, can you hope to get the ratio just so.

QuestionteeDear Tee,

My book will be called, Getting Nair for Tee.

Question sadie_edited-1Dear Sadie,

On my 48th birthday you can all visit me at the home. My whole Amazon Wish List will be "Tennis balls for my walker." Or "Bone-colored sensible sneakers. With Velcro."

Love, June

I should probably get dressed now and head to the DMV. I KNOW! Fun! It's the last step in my last name process. Then tonight …friend and I are going to dinner. Last night we got the saltiest pizza ever possible. We ordered the Lot's Wife pizza. With sodium. Rimmed in salt. Then we asked if there was perhaps a salt shaker. I am just saying, being bloated on your bday is not welcome news.

We TOTALLY ate the pizza anyway. What? We ate at Morton's. BAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAA!

Okay. Am off. Talk at you tomorrow when I shall still be, you know, 47.

Friends · June's stupid life

TinaDoris Got Married (aka Straight men? Just go look at manlysports.com today or something)

Dudes, I have to scream through this post because …friend and I are on our way to Asheville, which is up in the mountains and, one hopes, cooler than it is here, as it is 10 in the morning and already 950 degrees.

100_1451Here I am in the hotel bathroom; I wanted you to see my ensemble. The only downside was as soon as I got in …friend's car I saw a spot right on my breastical area. "What's that?" I screeched. "Are you lactating?" asked …friend, who adores his own self and asked the minister if he could perform a ceremony of …friend with …friend while he was up.

100_1439See? Down near the bottom. See? "I wouldn't have seen it unless you pointed it out," said the other guests, the waitress, the minister, the groom's mom during the ceremony. "Everything is really nice," said …friend, admiring the decor. "Yeah, particularly my giant stain."

I started wondering if TinaDoris was gonna promise to love and honor my stain during her vows. Maybe they'd whip out unity packets of Shout.

100_1444It was around this time that …friend started to drink.

100_1448Everything really was pretty, even my stain. They had kind of a traveling theme, and the card to tell you your table was an old luggage ticket, which I would show you but they had our real names on them. We were assigned to the Dublin table, which was appropriate given that …friend was hitting the booze. Also, there are a lot of stained dresses in Dublin.

100_1454Oh, look. You can kind of blurrily see the luggage thing in the cake pop photo. We all got cake pops, which …friend had never heard of, and I switched my cake pop with some other hapless soul so that my pop matched my dress. Sadly, they didn't have any stain-colored cake pops.

100_1455Hi. I'm June. Won't you enjoy my lactation and forehead wrinkle?

100_1442Pretty centerpieces. On some of the other tables were just tall glasses of greens. Hi, straight men! Are y'all riveted? Want me to go back to my stain?

100_1463I photographed the food because my Pal from MA always is interested in the food. Here is what looks like mayonnaise-covered salad. It was a creamy herb.

100_1464I know I'm being ludicrous, but this was the best blurry bread ever. Warm, crunchy, oh Lord have mercy.

100_1466Months ago, when we got invited to this shindig, we had to choose our food. …friend totally remembered that he got salmon (the first person to think he's a vegetarian gets slapped with my stain) and I had NO CLUE what I'd ordered. I was so hoping I'd ordered the short ribs but figured I didn't in order to be healthy.

100_1467Then the waitress came and said, "I have an extra blurry short rib. You were supposed to get salmon." So I took it and really hoped I'd drop gravy on my other breasticle so I'd have matching stains.

100_1443"Why you drink so much, Mr. Bailey? Go home, it's Christmas."

100_1446The cake was stunning. I like this imploding thing it has going. So cool! I worried it'd be some dumb flavor, like lavender. "What does lavender cake taste like?" said …friend, who apparently never gets out anywhere. He was also flummoxed by the tinking of the glasses to make the bride and groom kiss. I mean, really? Really? What weddings is he going to? Anyway, "Zest" is what I told him. Lavender cake. Taste like Zest.

100_1474But yay! It was blurry orange cake! Oh it was GOOD, you guys. Good.

I was obsessed with people going up to the couple during dinner. YOU AREN'T SUPPOSED TO DO THAT. You're supposed to leave them alone so they can actually eat. Every time someone would approach them I got irked.

…friend got another drink.


You don't always see brides enjoying their own wedding, and I am so glad TinaDoris seemed to enjoy hers. She cried during her vows and her new husband got a handkerchief out for her. Then all of us effing cried. I mean, everyone was already crying over my stain, so.
100_1483It's a shame TinaDoris could not get wasp-waisted for her wedding. Why do I like her?

Anyway, 'twas a good wedding. …friend got home and ate his cake pop and has decided to approve of them. I scrubbed at my stain.

I must run. Forgive all typos/spacing issues. I am in such a hurry I didn't really get to tell you how my dress was stained.

Friends · I am berserk · June's stupid life

In which Richard Carpenter is brought up. As you do.

I feel bad, because I was doing something ridiculous in the kitchen* and I heard Edsel whining. There's a rare and unusual event.

I knew he was over by the back door, so I said, "Go on outside. You know how." Both my dogs can open the screen door now, by bashing their heads into it and tearing outside like that yard they're in every day of their lives is suddenly gonna hold the secrets of the universe.

Does the universe have any secrets? If so, why? Is the universe just not that big of a gossip?

Anyway, when I finished doing the ridiculous thing* I finally looked back there and Edsel was OUTSIDE, whining to get back in. So I was all, "Let yourself out, dog!" while he cooked in his own fur back by the door, there.

Actually it's not that hot today. It's sort of overcast, which makes me feel bad for TinaDoris, that she will have an overcast wedding day, but it makes me not feel a bit bad for me, who has be to outdoors for said wedding.

*Are you glad I finally got to the footnote? You know how the only things I make in the kitchen are coffee and haste. So last night I bought decaf and real coffee, because I have to mix my real with decaf because I have a delicate brain. So today I got a large bag and dumped some decaf in there, then some real coffee, then more decaf, and I was near the top of the bag when I got all paranoid. Had I mixed it up enough? What if one day it'd be all-real-all-the-time and the next day I fell asleep at the wheel because I'd had nothin' but decaf?

*, continued. So I got a big bowl and dumped ALL the coffee into the bowl, mixed it with a spoon, then had to STAND there like an idiot while I tried to (a) dump the coffee from the bowl to the bag, spilling it everywhere, (2) pour the coffee through a funnel–and yes I have a funnel, news at 11:00–which caused just as MUCH mess, (c) dump it in spoon by spoon till I aged a year and hey, who's president now? and finally (8) I got a REALLY BIG SPOON and put what WASN'T on my kitchen floor in that way. Then I had to sweep the floor.

In the meantime Edsel cooked in his own fur. Get the seasoned butter!

Anyway, TinaDoris' wedding is today, in case you missed that. I had my hair blown straight the other day when I got my roots done, and I was excited that I'd have straight normal-girl hair. But now it's been two days and my straight blowout is rebelling.

Photo on 7-14-12 at 10.40 AM
Yes, I DID just get up and I haven't showered yet. Sue me. JUNE GARDENS SUED FOR NOT SHOWERING. More after the break.

Anyway, see how the one side is still all, hey! I'm straight! Yes, I DO play organ for my church and spend a lot of time at the park by myself, but straight? YES! And then the other side is all, Heyyyyy, dude. Relax a little. Show some curl. Let it all curl out.

So I have Richard Carpenter and Bob Marley on either side of my head. Ima have to go at it with the straight iron or just wash it and give up.

When I lived in LA I would run at Griffith Park, because I used to run and be cute and so forth, and for MONTHS I stared at the men sitting in their cars reading the paper and think, God. It must be really loud at their houses and they just need to get to the park for some peace and quiet.

Then one day I saw two of the men go into one of the Port-a-Johns together.

OHHHHHH! Quick, is what I am.

Only men could find romance in a Port-a-John.

I guess I had better go. I have to wash my floors, because I know how to kick back and have fun, and then it'll be time to get pretty for this wedding bash. ..friend finally said last night, "What does your dress look like, anyway?" …friend never reads my blog. Anyway, I got all excited to describe it and started with, "Well, it's pink…" and then I was drowned out by his "What a surprise" laughter.

We saw the new Woody Allen movie last night. I kind of liked it but …friend did not. He is persnickety about movies.

Oh, and some day remind me to tell you about going to the Social Security administration to let THEM know I've changed my name to Violetta Spray. That was about as much fun as it gets. Until? Monday, when I get to do the same thing at the DMV!

I will leave you now and return tomorrow with TinaDoris wedding photos. They've hired me to be their wedding photographer. They are having an impressionist painting theme. They are having a Get Fuzzy theme. They are having a cataracts theme. Okay I'll stop.

Farewell, and hey! Have fun tonight, Atlanta readers who are getting together ostensibly to celebrate my birthday but really for an excuse to get tanked together. No one is allowed to order anything with cilantro in it. There go your big plans for those cilantro martinis.

June's stupid life · Money

Money can’t buy you class

I'm June Gardens, and I'm panicked about money.

Hiiiii, June.

I've been laid off for six months now, and have had lots of work, but in the past month all I've had is one statistics textbook, which you may recall I stampeded right to and did not put off at all. Anyway, that's done and there is no work on the horizon. Have interviewed or taken an editing test at three places, and? Nope. Because I suck.

Today I emailed the HR person at the LAST place that laid me off, and I emailed the HR person at the place that laid me off before that. I also contacted a few people who'd said they needed freelance work done in the past few months and WHERE ARE YOU, people who need freelance work? WHERE ARE YOUUUUUU?


My trip is coming up, the one to Hawaii and Los Angeles (I know. I would hate me too. Because it's a FREE TRIP.) and I called Marvin to see if he could dogsit while I am gone. He hemmed and he hawed and he paused and he fretted and finally I snapped, "If you don't do it I can't go on the trip." I mean, dog daycare for that many days would be $500.


I mean, did I ask for alimony? Help paying the mortgage? Dog support funds? I did not. This is ALL I ASK FOR.

So the depressing part is Ima have to start applying for jobs out of North Carolina, I think. Which means I'll have to move and I'm (a) upside-down on this house and (8) sad that I'd have to move away from …friend.

I hate everything.

But hey! In three days I'll be 47!

Okay, I still hate everything. Someone tell me an inspirational story.

P.S. Just noticed I have my underwear on inside-out. Gee, is it Friday the 13th at all?

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

Violetta Spray

Today I changed my name, bought a dress on sale, and fell in love. With a probably 22-year-old gay man of color, who sold me said dress at the Ann Taylor, there.

My friend TinaDoris is getting married this Saturday, within stumbling distance of my house, and for that I am delighted. TinaDoris owns Penny, the dog who sometimes comes over and plays with my dogs. Penny, who manages to actually wear Edsel out. Penny, the little Miracle Worker who Could.

The point is, I haven't been to a summer wedding since 2006 or something, and I have no idea where the last dress is that I purchased for said wedding. Anyway I'm probably too fat for that dress, wherever it is, although I have lost a lot of weight doing my Tracy Morgan workout, and today in the dressing rooms of various dress stores throughout North Carolina, despite the depressing lighting that makes me look as though I inserted spray cheese into my hips with a nozzle, I did note I have new arm muscles. So as much as I curse and bemoan the syphillitic whore that is Tracy Chapman or whatever her name is, she has brought results.

I still hate her. At the end of the cardio portion she says, "If you feel you still have energy, you can do this workout again."

Oh, eat my potato pancakes, you rotten hard-assed slut. If I still have energy. I can barely work up resentment at that moment, much less anything resembling energy. She also, near the end of the DVD, says, "At this point you should be really sweating." Oh, should I? Should I? Because I have gone from solid to liquid, you giant giant lily-livered festering bitch.

I get a little cranky at workout time.

What was I talking about? Oh, the dress. Yes. So I went to the Banana Republic, and tried on a really pretty melon-colored dress that had a collar that made no sense. It went around your neck but for some reason it was really twisty, but just in one spot, and when I got another of the same dress that collar did the same thing. I did not want to show up in an Isadora Duncan twisy-neck look, so I went to The Loft.

I tried on a teal dress that was absolutely lovely and flattering from the front, but the back of me looked like I had decided to line my ass with gravel. What gives back there? Because I have been doing 3949549393939 leg lifts and kicks and hydrants and what-all with that workout, and yet Neil Armstrong is back there on my buttockal surface, taking one giant leap for mankind.

Finally I went to Ann Taylor, and I don't know why I don't just always go there first, because I love all their stuff. I must be their demographic. Old, unemployed, gravel-arsed women. Come to Ann Taylor!

So this tall thin elegant drink of water helped me, and oh! He was lovely. He made me try things I'd have never tried otherwise, including a yellow maxidress that was surprisingly flattering, had …friend wished to attend the wedding with him as Curious George and me as his master.

Finally, I found this:

Screen Shot 2012-07-11 at 6.36.53 PMIt was way on sale and no, I did not get the cheetah-striped slingbacks to go with it. The GMOC (gay man of color) managed to sell me a $7 necklace, too, marked down from $950. Why in the Sam Holy Hill are Ann Taylor's jewels always so costly? It's not like they're real. Well. They exist. They aren't hologram necklaces. You know what I mean.

After leaving Ann Taylor and desperately wishing I'd had the nerve to ask GMOC to be my best friend, I screamed on over to the efficient, not-at-all-annoying courthouse to change my name. I am now Violetta Spray.

I totally just went on Random Name Generator for that name, and it's an excellent one.

Really, I went back to my maiden name, is all, and after parking, paying to park in the courthouse parking lot–which shouldn't that already be covered by my taxes?–being led to completely the wrong door, walking 80 miles to the RIGHT door, walking ALL OVER YONDER and being directed to the wrong room not once but twice, then finally getting there and being told I need $10 cash, going to the ATM upstairs and getting lost all over again while being stared at hungrily by the many courthouse n'er-do-wells that seemed to be hanging about, I finally got my damn name changed back to its rightful self.

"Thank you, Miss Spree!" the clerk called after me. My whole unmarried life, people been mispronouncing my actual maiden name, which I am not revealing here but it makes as much sense as someone whose last name is spelled s-p-r-a-y being called Spree, and AS SOON AS I GOT MY NAME CHANGED, AS SOON AS I DID, someone went ahead, there, and mispronounced it. First time out.

Then I got to my car and had a parking ticket. IT WASN'T MY FAULT THAT YOU PEOPLE HAVE NO ORGANIZATION! Why do IIIIIIII have to pay for the part where you made it impossible to know where to go and what to do?


…It occurs to me that June Gardens got the ticket, so does Violetta Spray have to pay it?

Violetta, out.

Friends · June's stupid life · Proofreading/Copy editing

Casual depression at its’ finest

I am totally extra super giant depressed. I found out today that I did not get that job, the one I took a test for a few weeks back.


This is the third editing test I've taken wherein I did not get the job. Have I turned stupid? Have I lost my abilities? Do I have a brain tumor? Should I take up another career, such as professional hair-wearer? I seem to do that pretty memorably.

I have no talent, skills, likable qualities or future. Am going to have to move back to Saginaw and live with Hulk. Hi, Hulk. Pay no attention to these pets.

IMG_1715Speaking of which, who do you suppose was delighted to be released from dog daycare? And in a fit of alpha, Edsel rode home in the front seat, instead of his regularly scheduled backseat riding. Why Talu did not kick his skinny arse is beyond me. But you know what else happened? While they were boarded up there at the dog orphanage, Edsel had his second birthday, on July 7th. Isn't that terrible? His mother abandons him on his birthday. You can see he's distraught over it.

Maybe later today Eds and I will go on a special walk, just the two of us, and I won't make him stop and talk to my old neighbor, Paul. He'll like that, Eds will. Paul will be annoyed.

IMG_1669At any rate, as for the rest of my weekend in Michigan, I had a fine time. I have no idea why there was an image of an apostrophe, here, but I figured it was some kind of message for me. "June suck's."

"June edit's horribly."

"Hey, June! ' !"

I wonder what ' means in that last sentence. Woodstock from Peanuts is yelling at me.

IMG_1708Speaking of apostrophes, I saw this in the elevator where I stayed the other night. I would like to be privy to the thought process that led this person to make the word its apostrophe. "Well, if I wrote 'at it's finest' that would mean "at it is finest. So it must be its'."

That person has a job. I do not.

IMG_1685When I wasn't mocking elevator signs, I was at Hulk's hanging out at his pool. I do not know why that poor man up there getting permanently injured made me giggle for 85 years, but I did also shoot Vs at Hulk's kid, Not Chloe, while she frolicked in the pool way more athletically than I ever did in all my days.

IMG_1686Not Chloe is kind of fearless about the going underwater without plugging her nose, which Hulk said he taught her when she was, like, two or something. I'll bet Not Chloe will grow up to be a low-maintenance woman.

IMG_1690I'll bet Not Chloe won't have to call attention to herself at every turn, either. I am already baffled by the fictional future Not Chloe.

Seeing as it was my house and all, I invited my long-time low-maintenance friend Gertrude over as well, and her daughter, who is the same age as The UnChloe.

 IMG_1689Gertrude made me a CD of cover songs by different artists, like Fiona Apple singing John Lennon, which I listened to 97 times on the drive home yesterday.


IMG_1695I also got up with my old friend Mayor McCheese, whom I have known since the '80s. The rockin' '80s. That house he lives in? Is an 1800s-y house that he and his wife have been renovating since 1712. It's a cool house and I lived there briefly before I moved to Seattle.

IMG_1697Here is the Mayor's wife, AnnNanandAmy. When Mayor McCheese first started dating her, he introduced her at a (sit down) loud bar. I KNOW! Me? At a loud bar in the '80s? Anyway, I heard her name was "Ann," my friend Gertrude heard "Nan" and my ex-best-friend Esmeralda said, "No. Her name's Amy." So ever since then she's just AnnNanandAmy. I made the calligrapher write AnnNanandAmy on her invitation to my wedding, because I have a long and illustrious love affair with my own self.

Anyway you can't help but adore AnnNanandAmy. She is da bomb. She asked me what I wanted to drink, and I said, "Something caffeinated" and she offered Diet Pepsi and I politely said, "GOD, I HATE diet drinks."

I am a pleasure. No one say "high mantenance" or I'll kill you. Hulk called me high-maintenance, by the way, at HIS house because I asked him to mix cranberry juice with Sprite. Look, I KNEW he had BOTH. What's the big deal? I didn't ask for fresh guava juice imported from Columbia and served in a mango. God.

IMG_1699So here's poor AnnNanandAmy grinding coffee beans for me in the blender. Who's an annoying guest? DON"T SAY IT! DON'T.SAY.IT.

Those short people are their kids. They have three of them. They thought they were getting smoothies. June. Disappointing children since 201–oh, let's face it. I've been disappointing children since day one.

IMG_1702On my way out of Michigan I stopped off to see my old boyfriend Giovanni Leftwich. I have mentioned him before. I used to love the spit right out of him. But that was back in the '80s when I went to loud bars and misheard people's names.

Now we can be in the same vicinity and not scream at each other, or throw things, or jump up and down, or really create any drama at all, really. Which is kind of nice. We've known each other since 7th grade, and managed to go from 7th to 10th grades as friends before all hell broke loose for the rest of the '80s, and I guess we finally got back to 7th grade again.

Giovanni is marrried and has two kids; his son will be in 7th grade this year. "Wow, that's weird," I said, when his son showed up AS GIOVANNI'S 7th-GRADE DOPPELGANGER.

IMG_1705He also has a sweet daughter and a guinea pig named Squeaky. Guess who lived up to his name when his feets were dangling like this?

IMG_1706I also met Giovanni's gorgeous wife, who apparently has been able to be in the same room and not scream or yell and jump up and down at Giovanni for 15 years, and I'd like to know how this is manageable. …Do you think it was just me?


IMG_1711That's about all I have to tell you, except that there is this glass factory in West Virginia that every time Marvin and I would drive to Michigan or back, I'd see the signs for it and say, "I'd like to look around in there one day." The last time we ever traveled to Michigan as a couple, which was for my Uncle Jim's funeral–and curiously the very day …friend was moving to Greensboro–I said, "Oh, there's that glass store exit" and Marvin said something snarky about it, something like, "Are you OBSESSED with that glass place?"

I said nothing till we got to the exit, and then I said, "Don't worry about going to the glass place, ASSHOLE."

And then? Somehow our marriage didn't end up working out.