Friends · June's stupid life · Music

Tiffany jazz

Thank you all for your Ned questions in yesterday's comments. They were thought-provoking and insightful and often stupid. I did, speaking of the stupid ones, get a kick out of Hulk's questions. Why do I enjoy ludicrous Hulk?

If you have MORE questions for Ned, please do not ask them here. Go to yesterday's post. I refuse to schlep back and forth between here and there when I cut and paste these all for Ned. It's all for you, Ned! That's only funny if you saw The Omen.

I decided that Ned'd do better if I mailed him all the questions and he could mull them over and compose his thoughtful answers to whatever ones he picks. (How much you wanna bet he skims over the "What are your intentions for our June" one?) When we first met, he used to compose his emails to me in Word, then cut and paste them into email, to make sure they were just so. Ned's carefulness is the cutest thing I ever encountered. You will be shocked to hear I'd answer his emails 14 seconds later, slapping down whatever horrid thought I had right then.

Speaking of horrid, which leads us to jazz, we partied down with my pal Jo last night, as we were celebrating the momentous occasion of her birth just 23 years ago. See what I did, there? I shaved some years. Not that she needs that, because bitch looks incredible.

IMG_2183She'd mentioned this album from her youth, where each of the instruments has a name, like Max the Sax. She'd lost hers, and always missed it, so I found it online, because I am the coolest friend ever.

IMG_2186I also got her this card, and let me tell you this fascinating piece of info. I really have a new favorite color, and it's this shade of blue. I KNOW! I've been a pink girl all my life, and I do not know if this is a phase, or if the traumatic events of the past five years have shifted my brain, or what all. I'm just telling you I gravitate to this color now, which I guess we could call Tiffany blue. Let's. Let's call it Tiffany blue, as it may encourage people to give me things in Tiffany boxes.

100_1838
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100B1810
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100B1820
100B1801
100B1740
See. This is why sometimes this blog takes me forever. I had to go around and photograph all the Tiffany blue things I've purchased in the last year or so. But as you can see, there is a theme. Also I should state, for the record, that the first jewelry shot that includes those beautiful blue earrings sitting to the side? Those were given to me by Faithful Reader Hibiscus Wilson for my birthday, and I find EVERY REASON POSSIBLE to wear them.

How the hell did I get on this tangent?

Oh. Jo's party. Right.

IMG_2202So, my pal Kit was there, and I guess I don't need to tell you I loved her glasses. So much so that I took another of my professional shots of it. I TOTALLY NEED a better iPhone. Yes, I know. I can't have one. BUT IT'S FOR MY ART!

IMG_2189In fact, lots of people, including my hair, were present for Jo, because she is da bomb and everyone loves her.

We were all having a great time, except for one thing. The thing that officially makes us old.

"Does it have to be so LOUD in here?" I groused to Ned, who'd had the worst day ever and was starving to death and probably just wanted to be in a dark room opening a vein.

We ALL complained about the noise, because it's a big open room, and the band felt the need to turn it up to 11, and even better, they were jazz. Jazz. Is there anything I hate more than jazz?

Okay, people who say "pin number." But nothing else.

Okay, the place down the street with the name Workout Anytime. You work out during your workout. Why does God see fit to put irksome things in my path?

That's it, though. Just those things, then jazz.

Monty Python.

BUT RIGHT AFTER THAT, JAZZ.

Cilantro.

Okay, anyway. The point is, I tried to veedeotape the band for you, so you could share in my suffering, because what's the point of suffering unless everyone joins you, but all you can hear is me saying I'm in hell and Ned saying no I'm NOT in hell, and I like how he gets to decide this.

 

Am I always that loud? Is it just because the phone/veedeo thing is right next to me, or do I speak in my outdoor, hello-I'm-on-Broadway-and-you're-in-the-last-row voice all the time?

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The point is? Good bash. And happy birthday, Jo, which I just mistyped "Ho" and slayed my own self.

June. In hell.

Giveaway · June's stupid life

God save the wax queen

Yesterday, I had another of my hard-hitting, inciting-envy giveaways. Y'all had to guess who these very recognizable people were, from what is clearly a quality wax museum:

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286I think what we all need to do is get together for some kind of Bye Bye Piefest at this wax museum. Because, ridiculous? The problem is, I don't wanna say where it is and get sued or anything.

So, Faithful Reader SBtar correctly ID everyone in their wax, and about an hour later in the comments I wrote that no one had guessed it yet, and then my friend Dot–who had GONE to this stunning wax museum like it was good–wrote me and said, "BStar guessed it." I was all, "She DID?" Am certain it comforts you all that I read your comments so carefully.

The first one, believe it or not, is supposed to be Queen Elizabeth. I KNOW! And then most of you guessed right that for some reason that's Elvis as a waiter in a diner, and Michael J. Fox. I should have blooped out the background.

So, email me, BStar, for your fabulous gift.

Abe
I know, dude. You are so welcome.

In other unwaxy news, this week is Faithful Reader and Friend in Real Life Jo's birthday!

IMG_2151We had lunch to celebrate. She had a waffle with an egg in the middle. Hang on. I think I took a photo of it.

IMG_2153I did! God, I am excellent. Please note that Jo hangs out at this particular restaurant so much that she has her own coffee mug. Latte mug. Whatever. The point is, she is totally Norm on Cheers.

Tonight she is having a bash at a restaurant right across the street from Ned's house, so that's convenient for us. And Ned took tomorrow off, so PARTAYYY! We could be out till TEN or something.

Actually, Ned is a late-night person. Sometimes I'll say I'm tired and he'll be all, "It's not even 1:00 yet." Okay, Vampira. Girlfriend is old. Tallulah's been in REM three hours, and I would be too if I weren't hanging around you.

Doesn't a poached egg sound good now, looking at Jo's food up there? I have no eggs. I know this is shocking information for you. I do have fish sticks and some Amy's burritos. I am pathetic.

Anyway, so that's what I'm doing tonight. Celebrating the event of Jo's birth. At a restaurant where Ned and I had our second date. If you think about it, that was a clever move on his part, going somewhere right across the street from his pad. "Sayyy, would you…like to see my cat condo? It's right across the street."

In fact, he didn't do that. He didn't even TRY to invite me in to his swinging bachelor abode. As I recall, we ate and then he drove me home. Now I'm kind of mad. Was I REPULSIVE to him? Why didn't he try to lure me to his place? God!

Do you like this? Now when I talk to him today I'll be that woman. "…Oh. Hi. No, nothing's wrong. {sniff}"

Oh! Oh, oh! And before I forget, some of you in the comments said we should have an Ask Ned day, so go ahead and ask Ned any questions you have. I presented this idea to him last night, and he seemed…cautious. Kind of like how he was cautious about stampeding up to his place when we were right across the street back in January and I'm just getting mad about it now.

My point is, I told him he only had to answer the Qs he wanted to, so keep that in mind.

I will go now, maybe have some fish sticks, but I did want to leave you with this.

I saw the towheaded children in my neighborhood again last night, the ones who used to own Snowflake before Snowflake's tragic demise.

IMG_2165This time they called my dog "Tatoola." They don't even acknowledge Edsel, which I think is because the name throws them too much and also because the whole time I talk to them he is making himself invisible behind my knees. They have never managed to touch that creature even once. Lu stands and patiently gets her head petted, even though you can tell she'd rather not. She feels about children the way I do.

IMG_2161Once they realized I was taking pictures, they made me take 48 more. "TAKE A PICTURE OF ME SWINGING! TAKE A PICTURE OF US RUNNING! TAKE A PICTURE OF OUR MOM OPENING HER SECOND BOTTLE OF WINE INSIDE!"

IMG_2170I do like those kids, though, because they actually play. Outside. You never see that anymore. And yes. I DO want to go back there and tidy everything up.

Anyway, thanks for playing "Identify the wax figures" with me, and I agree that looks absolutely nothing like Queen Elizabeth. Oh, and don't forget to ask Ned whatever.

Giveaway · June's stupid life · Marvin

Spike. In my blood pressure. Also, June waxes on.

My sink’s water filter broke, and I know you wonder how I am able to carry on, and let me tell you I almost didn’t. Am I just supposed to go around drinking BAD CARCINOGENIC WATER from now on? Because, unacceptable.

I made the fatal error of phonng Marvin to see if he had any idea of how to fix said broken water filter, and does anyone remember that Marvin used to bug me? Because I DO. It just ALL CAME BACK to me.

He let me tell him the whole story of how it broke (the thing won’t go back on the thing) and what I tried and my theories about what it could be that broke it, and after all that he said, “Yeah. I have no idea.”

Sigh.

I forgot to tell you that he managed to not only bug me during that fruitless phone call (Ned was working. This is why I plundered my past for water filter help. Ned and that pesky need to make a living. Can’t his job just be ensuring my comfort and clean water at all times? And what do you MEAN lucky Marvin?), he also managed to bug me from afar the other day with the popcorn salt.

I like things on my popcorn that have nothing to do with butter (blech) or salt. This, in fact, is one of the many reasons I like Ned. He, too, abhors butter on his popcorn. Every week we go to the movies and split a giant tub of (“GodDAMMIT, I like popcorn”) popcorn, and nearly every week the kid says, “Butter?” and we both screech, “NO!” like they’re taking away our free will or something.

So generally I put Spike or Mrs. Dash–or in my case, Mrs. Kind of Trot–on my popcorn, and I also live large and put Parmesan cheese on there, or if I’m really lucky, nutritional yeast. Poke fun at me all you want. It’s good. You just have to remember to get the nutritional yeast at the hippie co-op, is the problem there.

But the other day I made popcorn and I was out of Mrs. Kind of Trot, so I got on a chair and searched the depths of my spice cupboard for something else. And lo and behold, there at the very back was some cheese-flavored popcorn salt from God knows when. From when I was married, at least, as I was about to find out the hard way.

“Yay! Cheesy salt!” I thought, and let me tell you, odder things come out of this brain in the course of a day. I took the lid off and shook. And shook. And shook it like a Polaroid picture. Because 2004 called.

And?

Nothing.

I pounded the side of the exciting cheesy salt.

Nothing.

Finally I looked closely. Marvin. Marvin, who’s been gone a year and a half, had done the thing to the salt. My cheesy salt.

You know how you get a food item now, and more often than not you remove the lid–let’s use peanut butter as an example–and for who knows what reason they now put a foil-ish kind of SECOND lid underneath? And you have to peel that stupid lid off to get to the real food? (Do they think this really keeps people from tampering? Do you not think if you were diabolical enough to want to tamper with peanut butter you’d be man enough to circumvent the flimsy lid?)

Well. Marvin? Never removed those aluminumy second lids.

It’s like he was SUCH a busy executive that he couldn’t take time. It was like the house was aflame, but he just needed one dip of peanut butter before saving the pets from the licking inferno. He’d peel a LITTLE of it, then leave it in tact, sort of pat it back down. Because apparently MY job was to take off the whole thing at some later date.

So the salt? My cheesy salt? My big find at the back of the shelf? Marvin had poked the world’s tiniest hole in it, so just one grain of salt could get out per pour. It’s like he must have used a pin, and poked a hole THROUGH ONE OF THE PLASTIC SALT SHAKER OPENINGS, to get a Lilliputian drop of salt out of that thing.

Guess who is lucky he doesn’t live here anymore? Because guess whose next colonoscopy would suggest he’s gettin’ a little too personal with Lot’s Wife? Guess who’d have condiments in each of his nethers? And no, I have no idea what “nethers,” plural, means, either. I’m mad. Cut me some slack.

And in case you’re worried sick, I bought me some original flavor Mrs. Dash yesterday. And I peeled off the lid completely.

In other pressing news, my old friend Dot sent me this.

322Dot knows what a huge Yoko fan I am, and also how much I enjoy hearing about her three-ways with celebrities.

“Okay, where WAS this? Because those are the worst replicas of John and Yoko I’ve ever seen,” I wrote her. “Oh, we went to a wax museum,” Dot told me, “and no one there looked remotely like anyone was supposed to. It was hilarious.”

And that, friends, is how I decided to have a giveaway (I KNOW! You know how good my giveaways are. And how I hop right on getting your winnings to you.). The first person to actually guess who these inexplicably bad wax figures are wins a brand-new, super-exciting, chosen just for youuuuu….

Screen Shot 2012-08-29 at 12.39.34 PM…box of Abraham Lincoln bandages.

I KNOW! Honest!

Get it? Do you? Be sure to take them to the theater, in case you get wounded.

June. Tasteful and appropriate since 1965.

Okay, here we go. Who the hell are these wax people?

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Good luck. I mean, I don’t want to put too much pressure on you, but again. Abe Lincoln bandages.

I’ll even peel the lid off the package, if it has one.

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

Sometimes? On Howard Stern? When a guest can’t make a decision, Howard says, “You aren’t buying a condo. Just decide.”

When the vet told me that Iris had an inflamed bladder, and is this burning an eternal flame-y bladder, one thing she suggested was that Iris be allowed to go to high places. Apparently this helps them mellow out, dude.

"So if you're not letting her on counters or shelves, you might want to start letting her."

Has this vet met me? As if anyone here has a single rule. If I had kids I'd be Pippy Longstocking's mom. "Oh, yes, I'm eight, and I live alone."

I toyed with getting her a kitty condo, but see Employment: none. Cash flow: poor. Fortunately for me I have a blog, because apparently when you have a blog people give you things. See June: annoying. Faithful Reader Did Not Say I Could Say Who She Was, and in case you're thinking, "I've never seen anyone named Did Not Say I Could Say Who She Was," see You: Dumb as Stump.

Anyway, Faithful Reader Did Not Say I Could Say Who She Was sent me a brand-new, super-exciting, chosen just for youuuuuu…

…remember when they'd say that on The Newlywed Game? I have no idea if they say it in this clip, as I was not going to sit through a whole episode of this dumb show, above. See YouTube Clip: June has things to do. I did, however, watch the commercial that said it was like having a hairdresser in your home, and would that that were true, considering my silent, nonracist hairdresser. What a treat.

ANYWAY, the faithful reader sent me a cat condo. Is the thing I was trying to tell you that should have taken two sentences at the top of this post and has now morphed into War and Peace, The Blog.

IMG_2100The UPS guy flumped this world's heaviest box on my porch, and he could not see me in here, but he glared at the house as he sweatily left. Look. I can't help it I have a blog and people send me things. I totally should have run after him and said that.

6a00e54f9367fb8834017c3184a422970b-800wiI lost 50 pounds dragging that box of anvils in here, then I excitedly ripped open the box, thinking the entire thing'd pop out whole, somehow. Here is what I found.

Guess who called Ned.

100_1826Look, man. When you have All This, men stampede over to put things together for you. It did not hurt that I still had some of his fancy beer left over from his birthday two months ago. I didn't even need to play that card, though, the I-schlepped-all-the-way-to-Winston-Salem-to-get-you-fancy-beer-from-a-brewery card. Because, again. See: All This.

100_1828Lily hadn't even been expecting Ned and was furious at me I hadn't warned her so she could put on her face. She still took the opportunity to swish her tail in his beer.

100_1832Ned asked if I just had him put this thing together so I'd have something to blog about. I never. As one can plainly see, I could have just posted about The Newlywed Game and amused myself endlessly. Hmpf.

100_1833As the minutes ticked by, it became evident this was not your run-of-the-mill condo. Girlfriend had details.

IMG_2124We decided to take the thing into the room where said condo was going to reside, and that room was my back room, where apparently I have glowing gold bars. And if that were the case, why aren't we Seeing: June Buying Things Willy-Nilly?

IMG_2125Eventually, and by "eventually" I mean 16 hours later, the thing was completed, and I placed both cats on there terrecktly.  Yes, I just said "terrecktly." Lily was over it immediately, but guess what. GUESS WHAT? Iris was all up in it.

IMG_2119I knew it was a good sign when she started lounging in parts before they were even put up.

IMG_2128Plus, there are not one but TWO dangling mouses, and she spent, oh, 97 minutes trying to kill said mouses and drag them to her lair. I figure it's a matter of time before she succeeds in tearing one down from its string.

CondosuccessToday, I put their food on their brand-new, super-exciting condo, and I think Edsel is annoyed that he doesn't know how to climb things. Anyway, I hope they continue to use it, because it was exhausting putting it up.

So I hear.

Food and Drink · June's stupid life

Best Crab Cake in Town

This weekend, I was telling Ned the fascinating story of how once I took Faithful Reader Laurie to the train station, and have I mentioned what riveting date I must be? And, because who could get enough of that story, I found it on my blog to send to him.

Turned out, it's a pretty boring post, but I found one from a few days later, in which I am telling you, the beleaguered reader, about how I was gonna plant a climbing rose. I wrote, "I have been waiting for months, because for the zone I live in, which is the danger zone and I've taken the highway to it, you plant your climbing roses in January."

Well. That line struck me as funny. I sat here, and I guffawed, and I chortled, and I giggled, and had to lie my head on the desk, and I wonder if possibly I could be the least-likable person alive on planet Earth.

And eventually I'll stop blogging about blogging, but I also wanted to mention that Ned and I were at Target yesterday.

The end.

No!

We were at Target, throwing down and partayying and raising the roof because the roof, the roof, the roof was on fire, and we saw a picture of Avril Lavigne while we were backing it up like we just didn't care. "I read your blog the other day," said Ned, "and what's Avril Lavigne done?"

Do you know it took me three hours to realize Ned had read my blog? He doesn't READ my blog. "Wait. Why were you reading my blog?" I asked, three hours later like we'd sat in silence all that time. Ned got a new smartphone this week, see, and he decided the first thing he wanted to look at at on it was my blog.

Now, see. Maybe that doesn't seem romantic to you, but that about killed me.

IMG_2064In other news, I pretty much spent the weekend eating, which combined with how I can't work out, does not at all mean that I am starting to look like Violet in Willie Wonka.

Violet-beauregarde-willy-wonka-1971In case you wondered if Ooompa-Loompas disturb me, yes. Yes, they do.

6a00e54f9367fb8834017617766b73970c-800wiOn Saturday, I had tea with my friend The Other June, and we had 72 teensy sandwiches, and cookies, and scones with clotted cream, which is everyone's favorite heart-healthy treat.

IMG_2072We stopped at my favorite store that has a Kitler, and Hitler kitty refused to look at me. I have shown him approx. 79 times on this blog now, and maybe he's sick of all the recognition.

IMG_2071nein! hittlur kittee not look at gurl.

IMG_2061Also, I wore really good shoes, which complement my litter box. That clutch is from Dick Whitman. It's made from recycled candy wrappers, and yes it IS cool.

The first person to mention my tattoo, which I've now shown 45859394 times, gets you know what from my you know where.

If that weren't enough, later that evening, Ned and I went to an Italian restaurant, where we each got, you know, lots of Italian food. "Good Lord, why'd we eat so much?" I wondered.

"You wanna go to the dessert place?" asked Ned.

"Of course!"

Oompa, loompa, doopity doo.

6a00e54f9367fb88340177445cf974970d-800wiNed eats dessert to forget that there is an office poking into his head.

6a00e54f9367fb88340177445cfa81970d-800wiThe dessert place we went to was decorated (is that the word? I guess "designed" is fancier) by my friend The Nester, and thank goodness I linked to her. Because she doesn't get nine hundred thousand two million and fourteen visitors a minute or anything. That group over there fascinated us. They were so…employable. We decided bible study. That's what they were doing. They certainly weren't gathering to buy drugs.

IMG_2077And because ooohh, can't you see, food is the drug for me, after eating everything possible, we decided to go for a long walk. Off a short pier. We just happened to stroll past the midcentury modern store where the cute owner may or may not dwell, and I am pleased to announce that Ned took this blurry picture, and IT'S MY PHONE, NOT ME.

IMG_2089Then yesterday we got up and ate more food.

Photo-27Marty Martin and Kay decided we should all watch Grey Gardens, so we did it up like rich people with crustless sandwiches and scones and so forth.

MkAnd then also, they got dressed up and we didn't. Because I didn't know were were gonna. Besides, what could I fit into at this juncture?

IMG_2086Turns out? Everyone hated Grey Gardens except me, and they all got mad I didn't warn them, but what's to warn? I LOVE that movie!

After, Ned and I went to the Mellow Mushroom and ate.

So that sums up my weekend. Faithful Reader Carol sent me 900 more books, so I have MY entertainment all planned out. When I'm not reading, I thought I might rustle me up some treats. Little smackerel of something. This and that to nosh on.

Good gravy.

Did someone say "gravy"?

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

Oh, and today is my Aunt Kathy’s birthday. HBD, Aunt K!

IMG_2057Last night, Ned and I got up with Dick Whitman in Winston-Salem. I have no idea what we're discussing here but I guarantee you it was deep.
IMG_2055We went to Single Brothers, which is this small cool place that makes fancy mixed drinks. Last night their special was muddled strawberries with vodka and just a little ginger ale. Ned had beer.

6a00e54f9367fb8834017c3177aeee970b-800wiDick Whitman had something with gin and sugar involved. He likes him a sweet drink, like mint juleps or, you know, gin and sugar.

IMG_2060Again, definitely a deep moment. Probably geography or the state of the nation being discussed. Or the smallness of my hair.

Today Ima get up with (who needs to get over that phrase?) my friend The Other June, as we are having a Queen's Tea at a, you know, tea shop. I do not know what a Queen's Tea involves. Perhaps we have to sing a lot of showtunes. The point is, The Other June came to my birthday party, but other than that, the last time I saw her was the night before my first date with Ned.

Since then I have been annoyingly occupied, I guess. I became one of THOSE women.

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After, I'll walk the curs and then see Ned again tonight. Tomorrow afternoon we're going to brunch at my friend Marty Martin's house, where the four of us (not that Marty Martin is two people. His girlfriend will also be there. Smarty pants.) are going to eat brunch and watch Grey Gardens. I have to bring petits fours or scones, and I'd just like you to TRY to find petits fours in this one-fucking-horse town.

Sometimes I miss LA.

So that sums up my weekend. What are you up to? Tell me everything. Every disgusting detail. Make it dirty.

Love,

June

Health · June's stupid life

In which June is a 3. 2. 2.

Has there been a day this week I have not been dashing off to somewhere and pulling a fast post out my arse?

June's blog. Come for the photography. Stay for the grace and dignity.

In case you were up all night, tossing and turning, my dental visit went shockingly well. Oh, I still need to replace old fillings and get a bridge because apparently I have a raging river in there or I have to connect San Francisco with Oakland or something, but the last time I was there–in January, same day as my first date with Ned, in fact, and I remember writing to him, "If this date is a bust, at least you can tell everyone 'She had great oral hygiene"–I bought the new Oral B. I already had Oral and his B, but I got the updated version. Oral B 2.0. Because back then I had a job and was not eating Cream of Wheat for dinner.

So I get in there, and to say my hygienist is chatty is like saying Avril Lavigne might not be making the most sensible decisions right now. I realize the whole time I have pointy instruments in my gullet, so chatting back is not possible, but can we just enjoy the silence every once in awhile?

Why do women need to chat so much? Asks the woman who every day writes 1,000 words to the ether. Honestly, though, it drives me berserk. At salons, stores, restaurants, you hear women, "And bloop de bloo doo and I said to her well blee de bleep de blee!" Good GOD women, give it a REST. Must everything be discussed ad nauseum?

I think that's why I have more men friends. I don't often find it necessary to prattle on. Do I? Friends in real life? Do I? Okay, Renee, you can't answer that Q. For some reason Renee and I explode with words when we're together. And who is sad she didn't get to hang with Renee in Hawaii this month?

Anyway. MY POINT IS, and I am totally being a woman now, the hygienist got in my mouth, there, and she was all, "Oh, wow!"

Now, see. That's what they always do. Oh, your root canal didn't take. Your filling now needs a crown. Your whole mouth needs removed and restarted. But this time, she said, "Everything looks great!" She got out her pointy tools, and thank GOD her kitchen remodel is over, so I didn't have to hear about that again, but she interrupted herself midprattle to say, "I don't really even need to polish you. I will, but, Esther? Get in here!"

Poor Esther, who probably has ear bleeds every night from working with my hygienist, came in kind of trepidaciously. "She bought the Oral B last time she was here and look at her!" They peered at me like I was baby Jesus in the manger. "Wow!" Esther admitted. I think it was my swaddling clothes.

Then they did the thing where they stick ANOTHER pointy tool in your gums and say, "Three two three. Three two three." I always like that because 323 is my old area code in LA. When they'd finished poking at every molucule of gum I own, the woman taking the numbers said, "I haven't heard numbers that good in years."

So, June. Passing the dental exam. Won't you admire my teeth with me?

IMG_2039
In other news, there was a really good rainbow when I got to Ned's the other night, and of course my iPhone captured it brilliantly. Perhaps I could sell some of these really good teeth buy an iPhone 4.

IMG_2044Also, I decided to do just the muscular structure work of my Traci Lords veeedeo, and the animals made that super easy.

IMG_2043You know, me being on a mat does not mean, EEEEEVERYBODY! ON THE MAT! PARTAYYY ON THE MAT! Really. It doesn't.

After repeatedly kicking both my mentally and physically challenged pets, it turns out my heel hurts. So damn. That isn't good.

Okay, screaming off, because apparently being unemployed means you are super busy.

June, sayin' it loud. I'm plaque-free and I'm proud.

...friend/Ned · I am berserk · June's stupid life · My pets · Proofreading/Copy editing

June is brief.

I slept late and I have to go to the dentist, because I know how to throw down on a Thursday. To summarize life lately:

1. Iris is not better, despite giving her Clavamox for two weeks, which she really enjoyed, so I am delighted she didn't need it. The vet is going to test her for one more thing, but really thinks she has bladder inflammation from stress. The dogs chase her. Am getting v.v. depressed about this whole thing.

I told Hulk, which, why. Why did I think, "Oh! Sympathetic ear? How 'bout Hulk?" He said, "I have a production schedule at work that will never be met. Am looking at a $7,000 orthodontist bill, I'm fighting with my ex and I can't get laid. But please tell your cat I hope her stress gets better."

…..yeah.

2. Am probably going to start freelancing heavily for …a place starting next week. More reports as developments warrant.

3. This is good, because one way to reduce stress in cats other than FIND THEM A QUIET HOME AND KILL ME NOW, is to let them climb up high. Iris, being blind, does not go in for jumping to high places, but she climbs the shit out of Edsel's crate, which is where her food is. So I figure she'd climb a kitty condo, and DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THOSE COST? Holy cats. So to speak.

4. I have been emailing with Daniel Boone. I know. Shut up. It's not what you think. We are friends. We always were good at being friends. Terrible at being more. Which leads me to:

5. Am unspeakably in love with Ned, and every time I see him I get more twitterpated. I remain gross gross gross.

Talk at you later.

Books · June's stupid life

Life Story

The other day, Ned and I were talking about going to the library when we were kids, and we are a scorchingly fascinating couple.

Ned was, like, a real boy, who played outside all day and participated in sports and liked dinosaurs. I was usually inside (a) reading a book, (c) putting on makeup or (14) tape-recording things. I know I've told  you this already, that some poor unsuspecting grandparent or aunt or someone said, "Ooo, maybe I'll get June a tape-recorder. She might like that." Then for the rest of time I was hauling that thing everywhere, interviewing you ("How much money do you make? Are you happily married?") or creating whole soap operas in which I was every character.

Guess who was the world's most annoying child?

Anyway, we both liked going to the library, Ned and I did, although he did not become obsessed with reading till he was in college. The point is, we were talking about books we checked out over and over again when we were yutes. That is only funny if you saw My Cousin Vinny, which you should probably not admit. As I just did.

SugarplumFor me the book I checked out repeatedly was Sugarplum, which was the story of a wooden doll who wanted to be taken more seriously. And who ended up suspended in a jar of jelly, which by the way was my favorite part, because everything was pink then.

Who even knew there was a doll hierarchy? "Oh, a wooden doll? Let's see if we can't invite someone else to our tea party."

Anyway, for Ned it was this book about how the world was formed, and the whole thing took place on a stage with an audience, and they watched volcanoes form, and dinosaurs, and so on, till it got to the world today. Which by the way, once the Earth had people and houses, Ned was so over it. He'd just flip back to the dinosaurs.

"I got that book out 87 times," said Ned. "And I can't remember the name of it. I've tried to find it online, but…"

Well.

Who took THAT as a challenge? I went home and I wish I could TELL you the number of hours I spent here Googling, "children's earth book" and "how the earth was formed book" and "earth + stage + children's book" to no avail.

Finally it dawned on me to call my stepsister, who's a librarian in LA, and guess what. You'll never guess. She had some good ideas for finding said book, number one being that I should call it "juvenile" instead of "children's."

That's when I remembered she is friends with the juvenile librarian at work, and every time she'd have a get-together I'd make a funny funny joke like, "Is the juvenile librarian coming? Is he gonna shoot milk out his nose again?"

Guess who finds me 100% not funny? Is it my stepsister?

My point is, I went on LA's library system, found several books that MIGHT be it, then went on Amazon to enter the titles and do the "Look inside!" thing. After, you know, 860 titles, I SAW A STAGE!

I.SAW.A.STAAAAAGE.

Ohmygod, I was so excited. The book is called Life Story, and it was written in 1962, so sadly it was pretty new when Ned was reading it and God, we're old, and I ORDERED IT FOR SEVEN DOLLARS OHMYGOD!!!

IMG_2003It was totally the right book!

Life-StoryOh, that was so exciting, finding it!

What do you wish you could find from your childhood? Tell all.

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

This is why you should sit around and read Star or something.

I am back from the doctor, and I don't want you to get upset, but I have plantar fasciitis. I know! She recommended…Aleve. Also ice. Also cortisone shots if it doesn't get better.  Plus also, I cannot do Tracy Morgan for a week.

YAY!!!

The Tracy workouts have two parts: the cardio, where you literally jump up and down for half an hour, then the muscular structure workout, which I can still do because it's me lying on the floor doing 949493229 sit-ups and 949495853939 leg lifts. My heels just lie there and smoke the pot or something. They aren't involved, I assure you.

The part where I lie on the floor, incidentally, makes me irresistible to the pets. I am often doing sit-ups with Iris on me, like she's my sightless personal trainer or something.

Oh! And you want to know the best part about today's doctor visit? It wasn't the free blood pressure reading or the part where I stepped on the scale and weigh 98 pounds more than I thought I weighed. No.

IMG_1981It was the part where I had to explain my magenta feet.

Yesterday Ned and I had big plans to take the dogs to Hanging Rock or Blowing Rock or whichever rock. I can never remember what rock I want to go to. The point was, walking. Dogs. Scenery. Dogs being tired after. That kind of thing.

But when morning arrived, it was not what you'd call sunny. Or dry. Or pleasant. "Well, there's only a 90% chance of thunderstorms," said Ned, who tried to accentuate the positive. "We are screwed," I said, but Ned pointed out really the DOGS were screwed.

IMG_1970 Instead we went to the natural science center, where by the way dogs were not allowed. So they stayed home, as they were screwed. Also, I hate being called a beaver.

IMG_1968Story of my life.

They had a mummy exhibit, which was cool till I started thinking about how those mummies were real people, and then it kind of freaked me out. Ned went over and looked at the baby mummies like it was nothing. For some reason the baby mummies were way worse for me than the adult ones. Which, I know. I just felt something about a human baby. What is WRONG with me? Is it the plantar fasciitis?

IMG_1980
We looked at everything, though. They had a whole "your body" exhibit, where you learned about your innards, and you could test your pulse and oxygen level. (My pulse was 65 and Ned is disgustingly at 58. FIFTY-EIGHT. Just because he eats right and works out constantly. And does HE get heel cancer? No. But I'm not bitter.)

After we'd stared at (Tee, warning) all the snakes and lizards and a really cute sloth who by the way doesn't have a lot of what you'd call vim and vigor (he ate a whole salad lying down. How did he not choke?), I said, "Oh, we HAVE to go outside to see the other animals." Because you know what I am? Wise. And you know why we were at the natural science center in the first place?

Rain.

Lots of the rain.

It was raining. Is what I am saying to you.

"Do you care that we're out in the rain?" I asked Ned, who does not like pina coladas. And of course he said no, because if he'd said yes I'd have told him to go back in and tend to his vagina. I mean, what choice did he have?

6a00e54f9367fb88340177443dab3a970d-800wiI thought it'd be hyyLARious to take before and after pictures of my hair as the rain hit it, and here you can see it right when I went outside and it was lightly drizzly, but by the time I got to the "after" shots, it was so dark and stormy that none of the pictures turned out. Also, can we talk about how I JUST got those roots done? They don't show like that in real life, but why do they look like that in this photo? The owl is appalled. "Whoooo go out like dat?"

IMG_1975The best part of the outdoor features is the tiger exhibit, and we sat there like idiots for probably 45 minutes, watching those tigers stalk past us. I kept saying I was going to crawl in there and just kiss them for a minute, but the part where I am not just roots and a magenta shoe are your proof I did not do that.

The tigers are brother and sister, and I kept trying to talk them into doing it anyway, because BABY TIGERS. If I lived a few miles from BABY TIGERS, I would never be sad again. However, we'd seen a two-headed turtle at the science center, and Ned said if the brother and sister tiger got jiggy wid it, we'd have two-headed baby tigers.

TWO-HEADED BABY TIGERSES! I am so down with that.

My point is, it was raining. Did I mention that? A little weathery out. And I had on shoes. Suede shoes. Suede magenta shoes. Why I selected those yesterday I WILL NEVER KNOW, except I am not that bright, I did not use either of my turtle heads and anyway, after walking outside in the rain? The hard rain?

Magenta feet.

AND IT WON'T COME OFF! Ima be like this for the rest of time. I will have to tell people my mother is Magenta from Blues Clues. I have no idea why I know who Magenta is.

IMG_1990I did manage to take a photo of my nice hair once I got home. Remember how they used to call the police "The Fuzz"?

IMG_1987Ned and Lily had their regular evening of rough play. I have no idea why she likes getting shaken about like that, but she does and she is a sick sick girl.

IMG_1988You never know about someone till you get behind closed doors with them.

So that was the story of my yesterday, and to sum it up, the dogs got bupkis and I got pink feet. The end.

June. Giving Pink a run for her money. Except I can't run with the plantar fasciitis.

Health · June's stupid life

HEEL! Now you all have to walk next to me.

I have to stampede to the doctor this morning because I have this stabbing relentless pain in my heel. This is probably the beginning of the end. You know what a happy outlook I have when it comes to my health.

Will write you after I've limped home and they've prescribed me a morphine drip.

...friend/Ned · June's stupid life · Not Grace Kelly · Times I Amused My Own Self

Bubble-licious

Ned, despite his love for all movies depressing, is generally a happy kind of person. But yesterday he was in a mood. And that mood was not good. He'd had a stressful week and was not feeling sparkly.

IMG_1958…Nedkitty not feeling that chipper, either. cudd have to do wif girl beeng here again.

We had plans to go to Winston-Salem and watch a movie outside at that same place I had dinner with Whitman about a month ago–at the old Reynolds mansion and all the shops and gardens and restaurants and stuff. That place. They were showing To Kill a Mockingbird. Then the viewing audience was going to smoke Reynolds-brand cigarettes and literally kill mockingbirds in the area with secondhand smoke.

The point is, I finally acquiesced and got my roots done yesterday. You don't even understand. There was snow on the rooftop. I had some of that old white magic. I was a portrait of Juneian Gray. Had me some roots, is what I am saying to you. I was a redwood. Or a graywood.

And I have given up my Raleigh hairdresser. I have come to the conclusion I don't like her. She's one of those people who, if she is ever telling you a story about a black person? Uses a really exaggerated black-sounding voice when she is quoting said person. And waves her head around, as if every black person is Martin Lawrence's Sheneneh. It bugs.

Anyway. I decided to go to the Aveda Salon here in town (slogan: We rarely seem racist!). I had a very interesting hairdresser who majored in film, and I am sad to tell you she did not major in hair. Because the color is fine, but when she straightened my hair, it was still a little…fuzzy. It was not what you'd call sleek.

Then when I went outside after two hours at the salon? Rain. It was raining. It was raining like the dickens, whatever that means. This boded really super well for my hair, which did I mention was fuzzy when I left the salon?

And naturally I'd parked in Tibet. I was trying to be healthy and give myself a little walk to and from the car. Go, me! Go, frizz! By the time I got home, I looked like Garth of Wayne's World.

Photo on 8-17-12 at 7.12 PMParty on, Faithful Reader Wayne. I am babelicious.

Really, Wayne's World was a funny movie. I don't care what you say. "If she were president, she'd be Baberaham Lincoln." Come on. That is hilarious.

At any rate, this led me to call Ned to say, "What now?" Because you know I am 100% a nature girl, but sitting on the wet ground to watch a mockingbird get murdered did not sound fun.

(Dear Person With No Sense of Humor: I have SEEN the movie. I know no mockingbirds were harmed in To Kill a Mockingbird. A ham hock? A little. Birds? No.)

"What do you mean?" Ned asked wearily. He had come home from work and gone straight to bed. There was no passing go, there was no eating a portobello. Bed. The end. Did I mention he was sparkling? And had missed the part where there was water coming from the sky?

Eventually we decided to go eat at the Reynolds mansion place anyway. Because it's important that we drive to Winston-Salem 75 times a month.

On the way there, Ned and I were talking about fortune cookies, and about how the Vietnamese place where he goes to lunch has less fortune cookies than opinion cookies. I can't recall my fortune from the time I went there with him, but I do know it was a tad preachy. Then he told me about one time? When he was chewing Bazooka gum? His fortune from the gum read:

Patience is a virtue. Seersucker is a fabric.

I don't know what to tell you, except I laughed, and I laughed, and I laughed. All the way to Winston-Salem. That tickled me, is what it did, and I fell over in the car, and laughed some more, and possibly did that thing where you stop breathing but you keep laughing anyway.

You know what I am? Not at all irritating when you are in a bad mood. How delightful to be in the car with old Chuckles the Clown, here. I was totally sitting on a feather.

We were in Winston-Salem, and I was over there stitching up my sides, when Ned said, "Do you actually know how to GET to this place?" He rubbed his head in kind of a weary way.

"Oh, sure!" I said brightly.

Tip from June: Never, ever believe me when I tell you I know how to get somewhere. I can't get anywhere. I can't get no satisfaction. I can't get arrested. Until last night, when I kind of did.

I'm sure I don't need to tell you what happened next, but it involved turning this way and that, and going down this road, then passing this landmark again, and Ned, WHOSE MOOD WAS SO GOOD, saying, "I think we're going in circles."

We were seconds from turning to butter when everyone's favorite event happened: blue flashing lights behind us.

"%#@$," said Ned, who perhaps I did not mention was in a poor mood. "What'd I even DO?" "Were you speeding?" I asked, knowing the answer. "Well, YES, but…"

The officer approached. "I stopped you for going 946 in a 35. Did you know the speed limit here?"

"No, sir, I did not," said Ned, who grew up in the South.

"WE'RE LOST!" I announced, trying to look cute and 27, which is approximately the last time I was cute enough to charm the police straight outta Compton.

"Yes, we are, sir" said Ned, warming to the subject. "We're trying to find Reynola Village. Can you help us?" I stuck my breasts out as far as possible. Had I had on pasties I would've swung them.

The policeman looked at us. Two fairly old people, one of whom was swinging imaginary tassles off her chest. We must have seemed not dangerous (thank GOD Ned didn't pick this moment to turn me in for hair dye thievery), so he said, "I'm gonna let you off with a warning, and have you got a piece of paper?"

I will be DAMNED if that cop didn't get us right to that mansion, where we purchased hookers and blow then knocked over a 7-Eleven. It was great! "That's the first time I've ever been let off with a warning," said Ned, who seemed even more weary than when the evening began.

"I have, but it's been a long time," I said, rubbing my OWN head because guess what. GUESS EFFING WHAT. Migraine. Was getting a migraine. I don't know why other than those sinks at the hairdresser set me off EVERY TIME, and the rain gives me one EVERY TIME, and forgetting to eat all day, which I had, makes a migraine come EVERY TIME. "I'm going to the bathroom to shoot my med up my nose. Get me an order of nachos," I said.

When I came back, I had to wait for the drugs to kick in, and the people behind us? Could they have BEEN ANY LOUDER? It was a whole family, and they were telling funny stories, and this is what my family does when we are together, and Ned was thinking it was nice, but I was shooting daggers at Ned hoping said daggers would bounce off him and zing over to the booth behind me.

"God, this is like that time I had the migraine and that kid was chanting at Target," I said. Ned, being not a faithful reader, had no clue what I meant. So I got out my phone and found that post, and LUCKY HIM, I read it to him.

Okay. I am sorry. But much like Baberaham Lincoln, that post was hilarious. I kept reading to him, and giggling at myself, and by the time I called the kid Sun-Ra, I was bent over the table in hysterics.

"You're gonna get your hair in your nachos," said Ned, who for some reason likes me anyway. I mean, I know he's in it for the pasties, but someone getting hysterical AT THEIR OWN BLOG takes the cake. The cake. It has been taken. And put in my hair.

Fortunately, we got home without incident, and Ned drove the speed limit TO THE LETTER, and today he is in a much better mood. It is because I am like a tonic. It is also because seersucker is a fabric.

Books · Film · June's stupid life

Ned, Dick Whitman, Hulk, and some gay man

I didn't blog yesterday because I wasn't in the mood. Oh, but here are two family pictures I didn't include in my last impressive post. The reason I missed them in my email is because they didn't include the words "photo" "picture" or "family" when they were sent to me.

Dudes, I wasn't gonna literally go through hundreds of emails all afternoon. I'm a busy executive.

-3Here is some full-skirted member of Faithful Reader and Sender of Books Deb's family (I can hear both Ned and Marvin going berserk about the cars). I have read all the books Deb mailed me less than a month ago and started in on the tome she sent next (The Outlanders or The Outliers or something. What is it called, Deb?).

-2And PJ wants us to know she's "the skinny bitch" on the left, in back. I told her I liked the rebel girl who wore blue instead of pink that day.

So that sums up my family portrait special here on Bye Bye Pie. And for those in the comments who said, "I missed it! Let's do this again!"? Am sending you my shorts. Here, eat them.

Anyway, last night I got up with Ned to see Blue Velvet at the old movie theater here.

IMG_1948This was the last film they're showing for their summer series at the old theater. Now we have to wait till September for anything new. We saw a ton of things there, though. Summer. An excellent time to sit in a dark theater.

IMG_1950Ned and I always meet in front of the theater, because he is screaming home from work right then (yesterday he ate a raw portobello mushroom and ran over to the movie. Mmm!), then after we go to a pub followed by making out in my car in the theater parking lot.

IMG_1951Since I was sitting on the wall waiting for him last night, I naturally took photos of myself. June + June. TLA.

In case you were worried sick (but what did June do with her bad self on WEDNESDAY night!?!?!), I got up with Dick Whitman for dinner night before last. I know! My life is riveting.

IMG_1953Oh. Before I go stampeding to My Dinner With Whit, Ned hates having his picture taken, and I have taken 394994 photos of him with my phone because he is cute as a button. Sadly, and don't tell him I said this, I have a folder on my desktop with all the pictures I have ever taken of him, and sometimes I click through them and sigh.

I know.

Anyway, last night he refused to smile and/or look happy, so I am putting his cranky blurry photo up AS WARNING to him. If he's going to make a face, then a face is going on my blog.

Ned doesn't read this blog. But some of his relatives and his best friend do. Dear Ned's Relatives and Best Friend: Please alert him to my evil re this matter. Thank you for your prompt attention to this issue.

Oh, and when we were at that pub last night? Ned said, "Is that Area man?" Of couse I turned to look, and it was SO NOT Area man. "You know that's not him," I said. "I know. I just wanted to see how fast you'd turn around. That was kind of amazing, actually."

Ned is annoying.

IMG_1946Dick Whitman had angst the other night, and I would tell you why but he didn't tell me I could tell you, and also, am I just gonna put up nice pictures of me and bad pictures of my men today? Yes. I think I am.

IMG_1939I had done my Dick Tracy workout that day, then got in the car (well. I SHOWERED) and headed to Whitman's. By the time we got to the restaurant I could easily have roasted up DW himself and eaten him with a little gravy. Good lord, I was hungry. Above please find my lamb, Clarice, on top of creamed corn and spinach or something. I do not recall as it was gone in 60 seconds.

Then I proceded to eat Dick W's oysters. So to speak.

IMG_1943Dick Whitman suggested we "go get coffee" after, and when he said, "coffee" apparently I heard "vanilla pudding."

Really, June. Eat something. I mean, I didn't work out for eight hours. I promise you the calories exceeded the burn-off by like 6,000.

IMG_1942We walked back to the car, though, so I was back even on calories again.

Finally, I leave you with a most disturbing story.

The other day I went alone to that new Meryl Streep movie, the one where she's trying to save her marriage and I have no idea why that movie would appeal to me. What do you mean? At one point, she gets a book called Sex Tips for Straight Women from a Gay Man.

"Does that book really exist?" I wondered.

Then today I remembered it, and I am sorry to tell you I was texting with everyone's favorite gay man, Hulk, while I ordered the book online. I got an email. "You Amazon order is confirmed!" it read. "Your book, Sex Tips from a Gay Man, will shop to: June's Mom. 4909 Shame Street. Regret, Michigan."

I SENT THE BOOK TO MY MOTHER!

You can imagine my, you know, panic. Heyyy! Happy….late Mother's Day! You're welcome, Stepdad! This is all NOT CREEPY AT ALL!

Fortunately I was able to, you know, STAMPEDE TO AMAZON and get the shipping rerouted.

My dad will really enjoy the book.

Faithful Readers · June's stupid life

We are family. I got all my pictures with me.

IcandriveMy new driver's license is here! It's not nearly as bad a picture as the last one I took, back in 2007. In that one I looked like I'd been dragged from the river. I sort of have cute hair in this one. Those rings around my head happen all the time.

Speaking of pictures, I had you send in your old family photos then never put them up for others to enjoy. So here we go.

Richard frontThe reason I thought of it today was because Faithful Reader Just Paula FLOUTED the rules and just sent in her photo today, of her grandmother holding Richard the cat. The back of the picture reads, "Richard, on vacation at the lake." Apparently Richard had a stressful job.

Photo(5)Here is Faithful Reader Amanda's family in…do I even have to say it? 1975. When else would it be? Which REMINDS ME, I still didn't tell you about the article I read about how fashions used to change dramatically, but since the '90s, they really haven't. I must tell you about it someday. Let me slip off my white chunky-heeled sandals and tell you about it soon.

Gramma and Grampa 1945LOVElovelovelovelove this one from Kim in Columbus. Obsessed with it. These are her grandparents in 1945. HOW CUTE ARE THEY??? I love the angry woman in the back. "Why am I not on a date? GodDAMMIT."

Scan_Pic0075Faith, whose name is not only Faith, she is also a faithful reader, sent this one. She is the baby. She totally looks like she has better things to do. "Can we get this over with and get these MITTENS off? I have a roast in the oven."

Family 2The creepy snowman comes from Faithful Reader Kathe and her family. It almost looks like a Samoyed, doesn't it?

20955_1286505733004_397615_nMy friend Sleeping Beauty's sister sent this one. Sleeping is awake, for once, and playing her drum. The "Hello, look at me" sister, with whom I completely identify, is in the orange yarn. Remember how we used to just put yarn in our ponytails like it was normal?

-1This is FR Arlene's grandparents on their wedding day. The attendants were her sister and his brother. I feel like no bachlorette party preceded this event. Also, give me those shoes.

XmasOne of the 4858584 Lisas sent this one, which is not old, but she found that aluminum tree–WHICH I WOULD KILL FOR, 4858584th LISA!–and made her family put on polyester and post in front of it. 4858584th Lisa. She is my people.

Me & Lucy on my 7th BirthdayHere's Pamela Soul Sister on her 7th birthday. Perhaps it was the '70s, the decade of everything being sort of orangy brown. Look how gorgeous PSS's mom is.

Toddler-J-and-R-with-grandfather-white-outfitsJala says her brother was deeeeeeelighted to be wearing matching outfits with his sister. Deeelighted. They are with grandpa.

Picture 112FR Beverly sent me 86 pictures and 95 paragraphs of explanation, so I just went with the one that cracked me up the most.

Picture 102Yeah, no. I also have to throw in this one from FR Beverly, too. It's painting a thousand words.

Silly photoHow cute is FR Kari? Also, has anyone seen my plaid flares?

Grandma party resizedHere's Anita's family celebrating her parents' wedding. How bad do I love this? HOW BAD???

6a00e54f9367fb88340167694a6073970b-800wiLook at what a beautiful baby DB in MD's grandmother was!! Is it safe to prop a baby up like that?

Photo (25)FR Jessica's grandparents. I love this whole picture. Her skirt, that car, their glasses, how happy they seem. Oh, isn't it cute?

1949-09-03bThe 1949 wedding of Pendy's parents. This totally makes me think of George Bailey's wedding to Mary. That dress is bronze, and apparently we are missing out on a good view of the way-cool pumps.

Scan_Pic0033Amish Annie sent this cool Christmas picture, and who wants to walk in there and look at each knicknack and decoration?

I think that is all. If I forgot yours, please note that I just had to schlep through hundreds of emails to find those with attachments. Because god forbid I make a folder and immediately download your pictures to it as your emails came in. God forbid. So if I didn't include yours, let me know and I'll do a search for it.

Thanks for sending, y'all! Do you think our current photos will ever be as interesting?

Health · June's stupid life

June Girly Brown. Aka, June does not feel really what you’d call “well.”

I finally dragged my unwell arse over here to the computer to tell you my every symptom in disgusting detail,  and then I got waylaid by a hard-hitting story on the Internet (and by the way. News flash for the hilarious jokesters: "Interwebs." Stop. Just stop.) about how Rob Pattinson was on Jon Stewart last night, his first post-breakup interview–and by the way, GOOD JOB, stupid Kristen Stewart.

So then I watched as much of the interview as the article would show me, and he didn't directly say anything about said breakup, even though Jon Stewart got out two pints of Ben & Jerry's and said, "It's just us girls, talking."

And by the way, why not just kill me now. Because Rob Pattinson and Jon Stewart in the same room. I mean, you make Barry Gibb the camera man and I am set for life.

So after I was done watching that important piece of news–cause what's more important? Oh, Mitt Romney has a running mate? Is it Kristen Stewart? Then I don't care. After all that, I found an article on Jennifer Aniston's engagement to the guy who had premature ejaculation issues on Sex and the City, whatever his name is. I just remember I liked that particular episode of Sex and the City because Rhoda played the ejaculator's mom.

And there goes my new band name. The Ejaculator's Mom.

I think there's something about him that looks mean and hard. But Brad Pitt looked kind and look where that got her. Anyway, THAT hard-hitting article showed us all of Jennifer Aniston's boyfriends through the years, although they left out Adam Duritz and I always thought he was her only interesting choice. Tumblr_lfjmr8vEmG1qgz3gvo1_500
Remember how she and Courtney Cox both dated him? How did they reconcile THAT? "Say, you know that filthy dreadlocked guy you're better than? Now I want him."

How did I get off on this tangent? The POINT is, I woke up in the middle of the night with (a) my heart racing, (2) nausea and (vii) a migraine.

YAY!

So it's been a fun 10 hours, and let me tell you what. Iris and Lily, perfect nurses. Every time I raced to the bathroom, Iris would come with me and rub on me. Lily just curled up with me whenever I returned. Talu kept her same spot on her pillow and never moved, which was nice because I could return to the bed and spoon her as needed.

And then there was Edsel.

HI! pantpantpantpant. YOU SIK, MOM? YOU SIK? ploop. Edzul drop blue toy on you. ploop. Edzul go get blu toy you drop on ground. ploop. Edzul go get blew toy you throw hard down hall. ploop. Edz–hey! Mom drop bluu way inder bed! Edz cannot get! You no you do that, mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Edz paw you. eeeeeeeeeeeee! eeeeeeeeeeeee! Edz whine at bloo toy! it under bed, mom! mom! mom! mom! mom! MOM! heer my bref on you. heer my bref! pantpantpantpantpan! MOM! Blu toy it under bed mom! Cannot get! mom!

Edsel is at the Guilford County Animal Shelter if anyone wants a dog.

So that is the state of my union. Sort of naus, def headachy. Got a blue toy under the bed.

June. Cleansing.

June's stupid life · Tracy Quartermaine

England June. Also Dudley June Right. Also, locomotive.

I schlepped to the bagel store today and am currently eating an Asiago Parmesan bagel with bacon scallion cream cheese and a tomato. I am totally Ned right now. "GodDAMMIT, this is good."

The other night I was lying in bed with the radio on. Moonlight falls like rain. Soft summer nights spent thinking of yoooouuu. Here alone with the blues.

SOFT AND LOW THE MUSIC MOANS! CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU! THINKIN' 'BOUT YOUUUU.

I wonder what sorts of things my brain would be capable of doing if I didn't use so much of it remembering song lyrics. Would I be an expert in quantum physics? Would I be a world-class athlete?

Answer: No.

What I was trying to say was I was lying in bed and I heard a train whistle in the night. Which is one of my favorite sounds. I immediately called Ned, because I am impolite and make phone calls at 11 p.m.

"Is there a train going by?" I asked. Ned lives .0006 inches from the train tracks. He is practically Nell from Dudley Doo-Right, tied to the tracks.

"Yes," said Ned, who'd have to be stone deaf to miss said train.

"I can hear your train!" I said, excited. I said, unconcerned about Ned's need for REM sleep.

So, I like that. When I hear a train I know I am hearing Ned's train. That he is over there with his whole place rattling and the screaming train whistle destroying his hearing bit by bit with each passing locomotive.

We need to start saying "locomotive" and not "train." Fancier.

Anyway, I like the sound of a train in the middle of the night. What sounds do you like?

Also, I love reading Post Secret every Sunday, and yesterday there was a video. 3:30 made me weep. Cause I am a giant pussy.

 

Am off now to do Tracy Quartermaine workout now, and I wish I could tell you how terribly much I adore me for remembering Tracy Quartermaine.

Janeelliot12The first person who did something productive after school like participate in athletics or have a job and who therefore says, "I have no idea who this is" gets YOU KNOW WHAT from my YOU KNOW WHERE.

June. Off to look for The Ice Princess.

Hulk's sex life · I am berserk · June's stupid life

June. Back to being a drain on society.

So I turned down that job after all.

I KNOW!

I was just talking on the phone with my friend Dottie, and I said, "I'd better go. I have to tell everyone on my blog about this and I dread it." Dottie pointed out that I wasn't obligated to tell you all ANYTHING, but I said, "How'm I gonna explain the part where I, you know, don't go to work on Monday?"

Then Dottie started getting a big kick out of herself. "I can't wait to read this. Hey! I have a job! Nope! I don't have a job! Hey, I'm going to Hawaii! Nope! Not going to Hawaii!"

Then after a few minutes, she said, "Oh, I thought of another one! Hey! I'm quitting my blog! Nope! Not quitting my blog!"

Is it wrong to wish swift and punishing dysentery on one of your oldest friends?

Anyway, the thing is, I was not looking forward to working four evenings a week, but I would have done it anyway, but what I can't go into detail about is there is potentially something really good happening for me, workwise, in the next few weeks. It's not a guarantee, which I know! Okay? I KNOW! But I could not be the person who takes a job knowing full well if the other thing pans out Ima stampede to it and quit that job in a heartbeat. That would be just wrong.

So there it is. I am back to no job, but I think it'll all be okay. There's a really good chance it'll be okay.

That's all I can say about that.

In other news, in case you didn't read the comments yesterday, I shoplifted. Why is June so unemployable?

I didn't MEAN to. I got me a box of the root touchup, there, at the grocery store, because nothing but the best for me. But that shit is crazy, dawgs. It really works. And as you know from that pretty photo I put up the other day, my roots were kind of showing.

Pepe LePew sexted.

So I got that, and I got this dishwasher cleaner thing I needed, and also a gray eye pencil, because again, nothing but the best for me, and I went to the self-checkout.

Ping! I tried to scan the dye.

Ping! It still wouldn't show up as having been scanned.

Ping!!

Finally the little woman in the machine said, "Please place the item in the bag."

Okay. So I did. And I figured it got scanned. But I looked at the receipt later and I was only charged for the pencil and dishwasher stuff.

"I just shoplifted from Harris Teeter," I emailed Ned.

"You need someone to come bail you out?" he wondered.

I decided to go home and whip up a Nick Nolte 'do; if they came after me and I got taken downtown, I'd have a good mug shot. I have always thought Nick Nolte's mug shot would be a great Halloween costume.

Next time I go to Harris Teeter, I will fess up and pay that $7.49 or whatever. I'd feel too guilty otherwise, thanks to my good-karma, free-to-be-you-and-me-unless-you-are-a-thief childhood.

In the meantime, I mentioned my thug life in the comments and the never-ludicrous Mrs. Oh created this and put it on Pie on the Face on Facebook.

Tmz
If you click on it, you can see it better. Anyway, it slayed me.

Oh! And not Mrs. Oh. Just oh! The other pertinent news I wanted to relay to you was that last night I was hanging with Mr. Cooper and also Ned, (what was that show about? I never saw it in my life. Hanging with Mr. Cooper. Was he related to Mr. Hooper from the store on Sesame Street? They should totally make a subdivision and have one of the streets be Sesame Street. It'd be particularly hilarious if you lived there and your name was Burt. Or Susan and Gordon) and I mentioned the phrase "mani/pedi," because I know how to reel a man in and keep him riveted to the conversation.

You know who I have not given eight seconds of thought to until today? Is Susan and Gordon. Didn't they try to fool us with a whole new Gordon somewhere in the third or fouth season? And where the hell did Original Gordon think he was going? Did he think he was headed to fame and fortune outside of Sesame Street? Because guess what, there, OG. We never saw you again.

Gordon should totally be taking career advice from me.

My POINT is that Ned had no idea what "mani/pedi" meant, and I could tell he had no idea but was just carrying on, hoping the meaning would become clear or that I'd shut up, one of the two. Finally, I said, "Do you not know what mani/pedi means?"

"No. I was just gonna go with it and see if I caught on eventually."

Okay, seriously. How manly does he have to go around being? EVERYONE knows what that is, which is what led me to call Hulk, who guess what?

Totally knew what mani/pedi meant.

Then Hulk went on for 80 minutes that I was to tell Ned IN NO UNCERTAIN TERMS that he was not a homosexual. He just, you know, happened to know what that meant. Is all.

Ned said, "I'd say that, too, if I were Hulk, knowing what mani/pedi meant."

Oh whatever.

Anyway I have to go. Remind me to tell you about the good article I read about how styles aren't really changing anymore. It's riveting. The dogs are at daycare today (that was a link to doggie webcam) because I forgot we have like 80 free passes and that is because I am a really good dog mom.

June. On the bread line.