Friends · June's stupid life · My pets

Ned flosses. Video at 11:00. Or, hello. I’m Doggy Cash.

Some of you suggested yesterday in the comments that if I start putting videos on here of Ned flossing, you were so gone. Who was wildly tempted to do just that, because she is asshole of the week?

Speaking of asshole of the week, Cancer Victim Edsel P. Underbite hosted a dog play afternoon at his gracious abode yesterday. I put Tumors One and Two behind the baby gate, so that when TinaDoris' dog Penny and oh my god I just realized the other dog is named Cash and we totally had Penny and Cash over and how denominational of us. Anyway, I put them behind the gate so they could freak out accordingly about strange dogs being over before I let them loose, and here you see them being polite and welcoming and not-at-all cacophonying with the barks. Look at Talu all midbark. Kills me. With her puffed-out barky lips.

100_1871Yes, Edsel does look like a gremlin with his edz-play-in-raayn wet self. Faithful Reader Shannon pointed this out on Facebook.


So TinaDoris brought over Penny, and Cash's Mom, who Ima call Mamma Cash and I love myself, brought over Cash, who is a Goldendoodle. Cash is really cool and can't help it that his breed name is ridiculous. Because let me tell you what. CASH IS SO COOL! Ohmygod. He's only five months old and he's totally calm and dignified and SO CUTE and I will get to Cash in a minute.

100_1863Here is a picture of my bathroom, which I cleaned, and I wanted to show it to you in its clean state. Normally that sink and etagere have 39405584930304 pieces of jewelry and cosmetics on them. Because this is such a spacious house. It'd take, you know, maybe 38 seconds to put jewelry or makeup away where I keep them. I'm a very busy executive.

I note I didn't turn the drag queen starfish around, and no one got to appreciate its glittery glory.

Anyway, it was 3:00 and no one had gotten here, and I'd timed the mini quiches for everyone getting here on time, and you know I made those from scratch so it was important to me.

Fortunately they showed up a few minutes later, both at the same time, like on a sitcom when someone has a party and everyone barrels through the door together in big clumps.

100_1888And let me tell you what. I loved that Cash. LOVED HIM. From the minute he fluffily got out of his car. Oh, he gots big big fluffy feets. And soft fluffy fur. And he's big big big already even though he's still a puppy snickerdoodle.

And he got along just fine with my dogs. Talu raised her hackles and did her scary low growl, but she didn't mean it.

100_1883Then poor beleaguered Penny came in, and I'd like to point out she's been here SEVERAL TIMES BEFORE, and also that they play with Penny at dog daycare. Did this matter to Edsel, though, when he ran over and sunk his jaws into her and started snarling?

WHAT A DICK. I realize he's dealing with cancer and all, but does cancer have to make you so dang cranky? They did this whole getting into an angry ball yelling thing and I had to jump in and pull them apart like a bouncer or something. Then I went back to charging everyone at the door.

Above, by the way, is Penny discovering poor Iris, who I'd kind of forgotten about, and who was terrifiedly puffing at the top of her kitty condo. Oh, she did not like Penny, and Penny could not have been more interested in her. And possibly not in a good way. Finally I peeled Iris-now-with-puffs off the condo, and took her in the bedroom, but sadly Penny followed us and was DEEEELIGHTED to discover Lily smartly hiding in there.

So both cats got to meet Penny, is what I'm saying to you. Am certain they're going to engrave another invite for her soon.

100_1877Here was Penny pretty much for the rest of the day, trying to hypnotize the door into opening. Just to scare each other, the cats keep saying, "A Penny for your thoughts" to each other now. "Cut out, man. It not funnee."

100_1892Did I mention that in the meantime, Cash went around being perfect?

100_1887Did I mention my dogs went around being not perfect? Apparently the moon had hit their eyes like a big pizza…pies.

100_1874Did I mention Mamma Cash is as cute a human as one can be? TinaDoris, who as you know from other times is similarly adorable–and I really need uglier women friends for my benefit–did not want her picture taken yesterday because she thought she looked awful. Her awful is, like, my prom night.
100_1886You know what makes you a good friend? Is when you put your friend's photo on your blog anyway, after they said not to. That makes you the very best kind of friend.

Anyway, we had a good time, and no one got eaten despite several attempts, and I'm just throwing it out there. Since all my pets seem to be falling over dead of cancer, someone could send me a Goldendoodle puppy. Is all I'm saying to you. Is all. Just. Okay.

I will talk at you tomorrow. Ned and I saw that happy movie Arbitrage last night, and Ned said today's movie will make that one look like the feel-good movie of the century, so yay. Later this week we're going to the old theater to see (wait for it) Sophie's Choice. If I make it this week without hurling myself off a bridge, I should get some kind of reward.

Like a Goldendoodle puppy. Or something.

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

It’s a red-letter day, over here, as none of my pets have managed to fall over dead today! Wooo!

100_1862lillee wish to point out she not cawse any troubel this year. lille wish to point out she smug about dis. also she pretty. lillee soupeereer pet.

She really is the only pet not causing me trouble this year and now I’ve cursed myself for saying that out loud. Edsel will have surgery on Tuesday to remove his stupid mast cell tumor, and they’ll send it off to pathology to see if he will be okay (very likely) or if he’ll be Jenny on Love Story.

IMG_2389love meen neber habing to say edsul sorry. but edsul sorry anyway, if he do sometheeng wrong. edsul love yuu so bad.

He seems clueless (surprise!) that anything is happening, and for some reason they want me to give him Benadryl till the day of surgery, and they said if he shows signs of being sedated to reduce the amount. Pfft. Like that dog is sedate anywhere but at the vet.

Anyway, I can’t stay and talk long, girl, because my dogs, Cancer 1 and Cancer 2, have a playdate today with their old friend Penny and also their soon-to-be-NEW-friend Cash. Both dogs belong to women I work with at my fake work, where I continue to freelance. We are having hors d’oeuvres and drinks and general talk about our periods and whatever it is girls talk about. I have to go clean the bathroom so no one knows I live like one of those people on Hoarders in real life.

Last night I had dinner with Ned’s brother and sister-in-law. I mean, Ned was there. He didn’t just say, “Oh, you should meet them. Text me and tell me all about it!” Anyway we had a good time. I knew I’d like them, just from stories Ned has told me. We were sitting in the restaurant part, but could see the bar, and Ned’s sister-in-law and I peered at floozies at the bar. Seriously, one woman was probably my age, and she had on a strapless leather dress and five-inch suede red heels. I’ve been looking for a red suede pump. That, as usual, was only funny if you’ve memorized When Harry Met Sally.

My point is, she was no Tina Turner. I mean, middle-aged girlfriend was not pulling off the look. Oh, and the hair! She kind of had Sammy Hagar hair. I wish there had been a way to surreptitiously take a picture so we could all be catty together.

When we got back to Ned’s place, his bachelor pad, with all the black lights and lava lamps and beer mirrors, (oh, and the poster that reads “Choices” with the car, girl and drink) (if Ned had even one of these things I would not have returned for a follow-up date) (Okay, maybe I could’ve lived with a lava lamp, if he was being ironic), he opened up a new roll of paper towels, because Ned knows how to set a mood, and his cat immediately put her head in the empty bag.

IMG_2393Dude. Do you have any idea how fast this 12-year-old cat prances around once she has a beloved bag on her head? I took probably 10 photos of her and this was the best I could get. Then, once I gave up, I heard Ned in there droning about how he was going to take that bag away because it’s plastic and what he doesn’t know is I captured his riveting diatribe on film for all of you.

I just think every mundane thing Ned says is cute. I am at my very worst right now, smitten-wise. And you have to be along with me. Congratulations.

Anyway, I should go. Tune in tomorrow for playdate photos of Cash, Penny and the Tumor Twosome, coming to a blog near you.

I hate everything · June's stupid life

In which June has the Midas touch, where everything she touches turns into a muffler. (copyright, my friend Jerry)

Yesterday morning I got a text from my boss, who used to be my real boss and now is my kind-of boss since I'm just freelancing. I don't know why I just said all that and I'm becoming one of those terrible storytellers. Maybe I'll start saying, "Wait, let me back up" somewhere in the story, too.

So there I was, MINDING MY OWN BUSINESS (I have to get over hating that phrase), when the text came.

BOSS: Hey, June, why don't you take today off? Then you can work five hours each Thursday and Friday, using up all the hours we've budgeted for you in September.


Apparently I was going to party like it was 1984. And 1990. And whenever Back that Ass Up was a song.


Oh, I just looked. It was 1999. Yay! I was gonna party like it's 1999. Yeah yeah yeah.

By the way, I want Back That Ass Up played at my funeral. I want you to give no explanation for it whatsoever.

How many songs have I commanded you play at my funeral? You're all gonna be there six hours, just listening to New Order and Juvenile and 76 Trombones. No, it was Marvin who wants 76 Trombones, isn't it? He wants 76 Trombones and Whoot, There It Is. Geez, should someone tell his current girlfriend? I feel like my wishes won't be so listened to anymore, once Marvin's feeling the silk.

Honestly, do you know anyone who gets off on tangents faster than me? My friend used to call me the Queen of the Nonsequiter. Eventually I'd go off on one of those tangents and she'd just say, "Are you the QUEEN?"

She'd be queening out right now.

So, whenever I have an unexpected day off, I always start out with such hope. Oh, I can go to the farmers market, get a bunch of crackers and desserts and other processed food like I always do there, then I can take my dry cleaning in, because my prom dress and wedding gown are practically in that pile for the dry cleaner. And hey, my oil needs changing and I could stock up on migraine meds. I mean, there's so much I can accomplish on a day off.

But before I left, I noticed the house was kind of a wreck.

100_1848There was just stuff hither and yon. Like, why did ABBA need a pick? Are they digging out from something? Why do we always have to see ABBA in those one tshirts, the ones they had made with the animals of their country on them? Obviously these were the go-to tshirts, and I'm not really certain I get it.

100_1856There was just kind of crap everywhere, and a big hairball on the couch. BAH! I enjoy that not-at-all precarious coffee cup in the corner of the couch. Nice.

100_1854Attractive. Don't you feel welcome, with my bunched-up tablecloth and clothes rack table?

So I straightened everything up, because it was bugging me. Then I did laundry, which resulted in this:

100_1857MORE clothes on the dining-room table! Go, June! Back that ass up!

100_1853Iris has been totally judgy about the whole thing, and she can barely SEE this mess.

So somehow, once I started putting things away and separating ABBA from their pick and such, I realized I had these two boxes of meds in the closet. So I got those out and began disposing of any expired stuff, which was pretty much everything.

"You threw out expired meds?" asked Ned, who clearly leads a whole dark thug life I know nothing about, because he said, "You could SELL those on the street and make a fortune. You're an unemPLOYed person. You should've considered that!"

He was all vehement, like I was telling him I didn't have a 401(k). Expired Mucinex is going for top dollar in the streets, I hear.

And also what streets? Do I just go outside right here and shake my meds? Shake my moneymaker, as it were?

I noticed I had a can of Solarcaine that had expired in August of 2007. We MOVED here in August of 2007, which means we schlepped an entire can of expired Solarcaine across the country. "You use AEROSOL CANS for sunburn? What's wrong with aloe vera?" judged Ned, who had become thug Al Gore all of a sudden.

Remind me not to tell things to Ned about my day.

I felt proud of my accomplishments, with the throwing out of the meds and the straightening up, and just as I was getting ready to leave and have fun at the farmers-of-processed-foods market, the mail came.

My cell phone bill was in there. It was hideous. I've never had a large cell phone bill before, and it turns out I'd gone over my minutes TALKING TO STREET-DRUGS NED, over there. From now on we're using my, you know, actual phone to talk. Last night was the first time he'd ever called me on my real phone. What is this world coming to?

My point is, I called AT and their T to see if we could reduce the damn bill (we could. You never know about these things, but they did it. I'm not saying Mrs. AT&T Customer Service Woman was what you'd call cuddly, but she did it because I'd never yakked on my cell phone like a teenager before), and somehow she got on the topic of me using The Cloud.

The Cloud. What the hell.

"Oh, The Cloud blooos your bleedely bloos and you can blah de blah blah! It's great!"

Does everyone else feel like computer talk makes no sense? And when she showed me how to put The Cloud on my phone, she said, "Go to your phone face" and I was all, now what now? And she said, "You know, your phone face."

If you ever want to get on my nerves, be sure, when I ask for clarification, to say EXACTLY THE SAME THING ALL OVER AGAIN, because I'm SURE to get it that way. What the Sam Holy Hill is my PHONE FACE? Is it like an O face? I've never heard of such a thing.

Nevertheless, eventually my phone got cloudy or whatever and yay, and then I headed out to take back that Ulta bag you saw above on my table/laundry hamper, there.

Yes, I still hate Ulta. But sometimes you have to go, like you have to go to the doctor or Applebees. And about a year ago, they discontinued my favorite foundation, which by the way I've been searching for PRETTY MUCH MY WHOLE LIFE, and once I found it I had it for five years or so and boom. The geniuses at Smashbox decided, "Let's bug June. No more foundation for her! Let her blotch for the world to see!"

So, seriously, probably nine months ago I went to Ulta and told one of the helpful sales zygotes the tale of my foundation, and she said, "I recommend this one, as a replacement" and she got me a teensy bottle, a Thumbelina botttle, of foundation and gave it to me to try.

Girl, I'd have this foundation's children if there were an app for that. I would MATE with this foundation, which I guess is kind of the same thing as saying I'd have its children. No one ever promised I'd be articulate. I would change my last name to This Foundation. June This Foundation.

And do you think I can recall what kind I tried? And do you think the helpful fetuses at Ulta wrote it down? THREE TIMES now I've been back there, told my story to some blank-faced salesgirl, she suggests another foundation and I come home and put it on and do kabuki theater. NO ONE has found for me the foundation I was given in the Thumbelina bottle. Oh, that stuff is lovely. And I've managed to DRAG OUT that sample all year. I meter it out like it's gold or really good heroin, which Ned is probably selling expired on the street while we talk.

So yesterday, since I had all the time in the world, I returned the last Marcel Marceau foundation they'd tried on me and decided this time I was gonna look at EACH KIND IN THERE till I found the stuff they'd given me in that sample.

Girl, I was over there fingering so many foundations you'd have thought I had a bottom-of-your-house fetish. And I never said I was a person who made a lot of sense. I tried Smashbox's new stuff. I tried Benefit. I tried Elizabeth Arden, even. Finally? FINALLY? I went over to Urban Decay.

And there? Like Jesus in the manger? Is what I am pretty certain was the foundation in my Thumbelina sample. It had the consistency, the color, the oh-doesn't-June This Foundation-look-flawless thing. Oh! I'd FOUND it! I just had to spend a little TIME, is all. So I cleaned my foundation-filled hand and went back to the Urban Decay section?

They don't have it. THEY DON'T HAVE IT. All they had was the sample.

……..{insert frowny-face emoticon if I believed in them}.

I called over a sales girl, who was drinking from her sippy cup and spilling it on her onesie. "Oh. Yeah. We're out of that? They have? Like, a really big demand for these?"

Yes. And god forbid a store like Ulta, such a SMALL LOCAL STORE, would participate in the concept of supply and demand. GOD FORBID. And I can TELL you why there's a demand for it. It's the only makeup they sell that doesn't make you look like you're Shields and Yarnell.

"DO THEY SELL THIS AT SEPHORA?" I asked, as loudly as I could in the hopes everyone would stampede out with me. "Yes, they do," said the salesgirl, looking for her Diaper Genie.

I huffed out of there, but to tell you the truth, the only way I was gonna be able to afford the foundation at Ulta was because I was exchanging it for the one I'd already bought. So I didn't go to any Sephora. But I hope they THOUGHT that's what I was doing, and I hope they all cried into their crib bedding all night.

So, when I got home, I plugged my phone into my computer, as I am wont to do, and it did the thing it always does–"bleek!" It makes a little beep sound at me, which means if I took any pictures it's gonna load them and so forth.

But then? THEN? Do you know what happened?

It made all my pictures go away. ALL OF THEM. Well, that's not true. ONE picture popped up, of some flowers I photographed on March 3, and I have NO IDEA WHY it saved that particular photo. But for the last year and a half? All my pictures? Gone.

Oh, I clicked and I searched and I went into the Finder and dude. No photos.

TWO HOURS WITH APPLE CARE LATER ("It CAN'T be that you joined The Cloud, ma'am. That just makes no sense." Oh REALLY? Because when I woke up this morning I had 2,063 photos. Now I have one. Of flowers. From March 3. I get on this stupid cloud and miraculously that same day, ALL MY PHOTOS ARE GONE. But it can't be The Cloud.) (Hey, you, get off of my cloud.) I finally got ALL TWO THOUSAND SIXTY-THREE photos on my DESKTOP, where I had to PLUNK EACH ONE INDIVIDUALLY back in the iPhoto thing.

Perhaps you're wondering, Hmmm. June's mood. Was it sparkling when she had to do this?


Photo on 6-22-12 at 7.55 PM #3I did find this photo, since I looked at OVER TWO THOUSAND OF THEM last night, and it bugs me. What was I doing? Why so glum-ish? Was I drunk? When did I get such obvious labial-nasal folds? Is it time for whatever that injectable is called? Abreva? No, that's for cold sores. Whatever it is, I probably had some, expired, in my cupboard.

Anyway that was my stupid day off. If anyone desires some expired Mucinex, I could dig it out the trash.

...friend/Ned · June's stupid life


If I fell over dead today, on the way down, I'd say, "Well, I may not have walked through any lavender fields in France, and I may not have ever gotten to hang out with Carrie Fisher and Nora Ephron, and it looks like there will be no kissing any leopards on the head. But I did get to thoroughly and fiercely love someone, with every fiber of my soon-to-be-dead being."


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

Kicky Johnson

It's 8:30 in the morning, it's kind of cold in here, and Tallulah is sitting next to me, annoyed, that I'm blogging and not participating in feed-Tallulah time.

IMG_2369Photographic evidence. The evidence is clear. Sort of.

So that about sums up this morning, except that as I was typing this I got an email from my friend Dot. Which by the way, whenever I want to link you to something from an old post, and I've got almost six years of old posts at this point, I just Google myself. I know that's personal and should be done in our private time. But I Googled "Bye Bye Pie + Dot" and I got 9,00,000 "dot dot dot friend" references. Now am annoyed with self and self's blog names for everyone.

My point is, Dot has this dog, Diesel. I love him. He is a big big big mutty dog and he is wonderful.

This morning Dot and Diesel were at the bus stop with her kids, and some idiot on her cell phone was paying no attention. She hit and killed Diesel. I just felt nauseated when I got this news. Get off your damn CELL PHONES when you're driving, folks. God. Infuriates me.

In other news, I guess I haven't talked to you since the weekend. I mean, I reiterated my deep texts with Hulk, but other than that. Let's see.

6a00e54f9367fb8834017ee3c427cf970d-800wi-1After recovering from my migraine on Saturday morning, I set off with Ned to buy a litter box. I KNOW! For months, Ned has been saying September was the month he was going to buy his cat a new litterbox. Yes. He budgeted a litterbox. Dudes, I don't know what to tell you except that someone may be a more careful spender than me.

6a00e54f9367fb8834017c3220803e970b-800wiSo we schlep to the Target, and see, if it were me buying a new litterbox? Well, first, I wouldn't wait till any September to do it. If I decided a new litterbox was needed, I'd probably just go out and spend that $17 willy-nilly. I'd break the budget. And then? I'd look at the litterboxes before me and pick up the one that looked nicest. All in all this task would take me eight seconds.

But–and why did I not think about this before we went?–Ned, who waited till a specific month to buy a litterbox, looked at each one. He got them OUT, flipped them this way and that, read about the features, asked me 454959594 times, "Which one would you get?" I kept saying, "I'd get the blue one. It's swoopy." And it was. And trust me. I've heard old Kicky Johnson in there in her litterbox. Ned has one of those cats who kick kick kick the litter, and who knows why some cats do that. Then after 87 minutes of Rockette-ing the litter, she leaves and TA-DAAAA! there her poop still is, completely uncovered, for the world to see.

"Kicky Johnson" is totally a thing.

Anyway, after–seriously–15 minutes, Ned decided on (!!) the blue one (!!) because it's swoopy. "Maybe she won't kick as much litter out when she's being Kicky Johnson," he said. Okay, he didn't remotely say "Kicky Johnson," because I just totally made that up right here, but he DID pick the blue one for the same reason I said to pick it, and I didn't point out, "That's what I've been SAYING for the last 80 minutes." I did not say that. Because I am a good person who does not complain about her boyfriend on a blog or anything.

Then, and yes there is a THEN, he started perusing the steppy-outty-things, and in case you don't have a cat, there are these sort of cat throw rugs you can place in front of the litter box, which catch some of the litter on your cat's littery feetses when Kicky emerges from the box. The blue box. Which you got becauese it's swoopy and you have Kicky Johnson cat.

"Do you like this one, with the nubs, or the one that's netted?" he asked, as though he were selecting his second home in the country.

"ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO DEBATE THE STEPPY-OUTY THING, TOO?" I asked, perhaps a trifle impatiently.

"Did you really think this was going to go fast? You've been to restaurants with me."

You know, I have. YOU all have, in a way, since I have perhaps touched on Ned's, you know, CAREFULNESS with a menu.

Good gravy. And he never orders gravy.

IMG_2349After the apparently earth-shatteringly important selection of items for cats to poop on,
we headed to the Halloween section to look at redundantly named

IMG_2352Then we looked at costumes I would have picked as a kid, because I was always finding a way to be some kind of princess. Which by the way has not quite changed. And I KNOW these photos are their usual blurry selves, and you know why that is? Because I am using an iPhone 3, and if you loved me at ALL you'd get me an iPhone 5. And, see, it'd BEHOOVE you to do it, because then my pictures would be LOVELY, because iPhone 5s have much better cameras.

Says Princess June. Whose fancy iPhone is not enough for her. BUT REALLY! It'd be a favor to YOU. Go get June an iPhone 5. The princess commands you.

Also, do costumes really cost $25 and $30 now? What if you have a whole passel of kids? You'd spend a hundred bucks on costumes. Money you COULD be using to get me an iPhone. That's highway robbery. I had no idea costumes were that much. Stick a bag on the kid's head and make him be the Unknown Comic.

Parenting tips, by June.

IMG_2357 After, we went to PetSmart because I wanted to look at adoptable dogs and Ned wanted to look at lizards.

IMG_2358Then we went to lunch. Here is what Ned got. It has whole grains and sweet potatoes and some kind of greens.

IMG_2359I got fried things. But note healthy Ned cannot resist the siren song of my fries.

IMG_2360Oh, look. I forgot I took a photo of Kicky Johnson in the window. And yes, that IS some kind of sporting-event sculpture. This is only the third boy I have ever liked who liked sports. Cardinal, my high school boyfriend, enjoys the sports, as did that Seattle boyfriend who got married eight minutes after we broke up. It was so awkward, breaking up in the limo with him in a tux.

Actually, I think he got married in Vegas. He told me, but at the time I was too busy trying to act like this was delightful information while I was throwing up on the inside and hurling knives into my gullet, which would have been less painful than receiving that information. Honest engine, it was like two months after I'd moved out, I'm not even kidding. Just telling you about it now makes me a trifle naus.

IMG_2363Here's my OWN cat in my window, clearly thinking murderous thoughts about something outside. I am not sure if I've mentioned that Lily is the most beautiful cat possible. Isn't she? She is the pretty.

On Sunday, Ned golfed, and please see above reference to boy-who-likes-sports, so I took Edsel to the Bog Garden and then the Bi-Something Garden. The Bisexual Garden? The Bipolar Garden? I forget. It's right across from the Bog Garden, and Talu did not go with us due to her hurt foot, but then after I'd walked an hour I remembered my OWN stupid foot is hurt and that walk did not help.

IMG_2367It did manage to wear out the Eds for, oh, seventeen seconds before he was back up being an asshole again. heer my toy! heer is! heer toy! edz drop on you foot! throw toy! edz toy! toy! toy! toy!

Hell's hinges, that dog is annoying. And tireless. You know how Bill Clinton only sleeps four hours a night? I have the dog unsuccessful version of Bill Clinton. Which explains his humping of Tallulah, I guess.

Anyway, that's pretty much all I have to say about my weekend. And about Edsel.

And about Kicky Johnson.

Hulk's sex life · June's stupid life

Haven’t they published letters between famous smart people? Like Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir? Why do I feel like Hulk and I will never be published, with our brilliant texts?

HULK: Listening to the radio and the DJ says, "This is the last song of the summer." Then he played Two Tickets to Paradise. Thinking of you! Hulk.

JUNE: When we get married, and what a great day that will be, that can be our first dance. It'll set the tone for how pretty that marriage will be.

HULK: Do we have to "get married"? Can't we just throw a big Eddie Money party for our friends and then fuck later?

JUNE: God, that is so much better of a plan. We don't need a piece of paper to celebrate our love of Eddie Money.

HULK: Plus, that way you won't have to put your name in all your books.

JUNE: I will never want that wagon wheel coffee table. Or your Eddie Money CD.

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

I said, “Otto..”

Tallulah and I are like Elliott and E.T. She has hurt her foot.

Okay, and really? You're going to say, "How're you two like Elliott and E.T.?" Are you really gonna do that and be all young and not know? Because that is the last straw.

At my old workplace, where I am freelancing, there is this very young girl (VYG) and I remember LAST time I worked there, she didn't know what Men at Work was. I mean, at all. "Is it a song? How does it go?" Then yesterday I referenced The Courtship of Eddie's Father, as you do, and she was all, "?"

"You never saw it in reruns?" I asked, not even daring to make a Rerun and Raj reference.

If people keep getting younger Ima run out of material.

Anyway, any VYG reading this, Elliott was at school and E.T. got drunk and Elliott felt the effects and let all the frogs go. Also when E.T. was dying (spoiler alert!) (who said in the comments they hate that? I do too.), Elliott was, as well. Which was fine with me. I did not bond with that movie as others did.

For no apparent reason, Ned and I downloaded an episode of That Girl the other day, and in my opinion, it has held up, unlike Welcome Back, Kotter, which so didn't. Marlo Thomas was so completely 100% hot. I really never understood what she saw in Donald. But there you go.

I have no idea how I got off on this tangent. My POINT is that Talu has been licking her foot, and licking it, and also giving it the occasional lick. So I took her to the vet.

IMG_2333Here is Lu sitting on my lap at the vet, trembling. Because she is a big tough Pit Bull. I guess her wimpy Beagle side comes out when we're at the vet.

IMG_2337Anyway, of course they found her paw all red and raw and infected, and now she's on antibiotics and pain pills, and I don't see nobody giving ME no delightful pain pills for MY hurt foot. How is that fair?

I am also pleased to tell you that Luis has lost FIVE POUNDS since Marvin moved out. He overfed all our pets. I can only imagine the Lulu on Hee-Haw impression Henry and Anderson Cooper are doing at this juncture.

You know what VYG would not get? Are Lulu on Hee-Haw references.

Afterward, I emailed Ned, who feigns concern about my pets, or perhaps it's real because he is obsessed with that cat of his, who he didn't want in the first place. Some girl left that cat there. Did I ever tell you that? A friend of mine* (*Daniel Boone) (shut up) said the only way for straight men to have cats and not seem gay is when the cat is left over from a relationship. Fortunately, Ned passes this test.

Anyway, I told him about Lu's weight loss, and how proud I was of her, and how taking her out for her traditional I-survived-the-vet Happy Meal probably impeded her progress.

"You didn't really give her a Happy Meal," said Ned, who probably last went to McDonald's in 1982. "Of COURSE I did," I wrote back. "I ALWAYS do. She gets such a happy I'm-eating-fries expression."

"Oh. Brother." is all Ned wrote back. Then later he yelled at me for not keeping the prize.

And speaking of not McDonald's, Ned cooked for me last night, and yes he DOES need a butter dish. However, he cooked and I didn't, as usual, so who am I to complain? And yes, this was effing delish. Then right after I got a migraine and had to go home.

Yay! June is fun!

Oh, I was sick. I've had a ton of migrianes lately and it's probably one of those tumors going around and not a migraine at all.

IMG_2344Ned, being cook-y.

We did manage, before my migraine set in, to watch When Harry Met Sally, which I had never seen before other than the 3949494994 times I've seen it and how I know it by heart. Ned, however, really HAD never seen it, because it's a girl movie and he only likes dark depressing brooding sad downer deep foreign films where everybody stands around and sighs, but he liked WHMS anyway. Because it's a good movie.

You want to know what, though? We downloaded it on Amazon, and some of the music was different! I think it was all the Harry Conick, Jr. songs that were gone. But having watched it 86 times I am acutely aware of any changes, and let me tell you, IT WAS NOT THE SAME with generic music. And I don't even LIKE Harry Conick and his junior that much. Still.


And by the way, I'm Ben Small, of the Coney Island Smalls.

Oh, and also, "willage."

Who loves that movie? Is it me?

So basically, Ned had to feed me, sit through that movie, then watch me leave in agony. You know what I am? A fun date.

I guess that's all I have to tell you. I have to go to Target for more migraine meds and am kind of sick of self. I would love to throw a Courtship of Eddie's Father joke in here now but too brain-dead to think of one. Stupid migraines. Stupid Mrs. Lee.



Friends · June's stupid life · Tracy Quartermaine

Cats love it

UnicornMy friend Steve (who is not to be confused with Faithful Reader CVSteve nor my old boyfriend Steve who I saw this summer, but ANOTHER friend Steve who we decided in the comments should ID himself as Huge Member Steve) sent me this image yesterday.

Last night I was trying to sleep, and kept thinking of the box–"Cats Love It!" and this cat's face and I kept shaking the bed, I was giggling so hard. Cats love it! Dying.

See. In hysterics again. Ohmygod, that poor cat. He loves it! Clearly.

Also, we all need to go out and get a unicorn horn for our cats. If anyone does so, send me the picture.

Didn't you all send me pictures of your messy coffee tables and didn't I 100% fail to put any on my blog? Also, didn't I just have a giveaway? Who won? I know I never sent anyone anything. What the Sam Hill did I say I was sending you? Was it Abraham Lincoln floss or something?

In other news, I am very tempted to put on here a photo Dick Whitman put of himself on Facebook, in which he's wearing a hospital gown and we see it open in the back, but I am abstaining. Because that is the good kind of friend I am. I just MENTION it to everyone without showing it.

Lean on me. When you're not strong. And I'll be your friend. I'll help you carry on.

Anyway, his clavicle hurts. He was having it looked at. That's why he had on the gown. And you know, he DID put it on Facebook, for all the world to see, so I don't see how it would hurt for me to show it here. But I will not. I do not want Dick Whitman getting all pit on my azz.

None of this is why I gathered you all here today, however. What I WANTED to discuss was this:

Somehow Ned and I got into a discussion wherein I called him motivated. "I am the least-motivated person on earth," he said. That's what he said. Ned. The person who said, "Ima quit smoking after doing it for 25 years" and just did it, two years ago. The person who said, "Ima start working out again" and does so every night. The person who said, "I'm going to eat better" and now eats the Green Giant's weight in salads every week. I mean, he's the most motivated person I know. I say I'm gonna have a giveaway and can't manage the three clicks it'd take to get you your cat unicorn horn.

Cats love it!

Clearly you have no idea how much that slays me.

"In a million years I'd never imagine anyone would describe me as motivated," said salady Ned.

This made me think of the time my best friend from elementary school said her husband finally had to realize she was not a tower of strength. I forget what the scenario was, and no, my best friend was not married in elementary school. She told me this story recently. We were best friends in elementary school. Smarty.

Anyway, as I said, I forget the particulars, I just remember thinking, "No one has ever had to realize I'm not a tower of strength. No one's ever said, 'Oh that June. She's tough on the outside…'"

In fact, one time Marvin was talking to a woman who'd been home showering, and someone broke in and raped her right there. In her shower! Can you imagine? Cats love it. Anyway, Marvin said, "My wife would never recover from that. She's not strong."

I was kind of offended, but god, that is totally the truth. I would NEVER.RECOVER. from that.

So my point is, what is one way no one would ever describe you? And are you sure?

I am berserk · June's stupid life

Everything should be a home fry

Tallulah so enjoyed writing that advice column that she told me she is thinking of volunteering at a crisis hotline.
6a00e54f9367fb8834015393504544970b-800witell lu your woah

I mentioned to her that a few more people asked her questions after I'd gone into comments and said, "Talu is composing now. No more questions" and she said,

100_1344more problem? Hoo care?

I feel like maybe she isn't that serious about her volunteer plans.

In the meantime, it was nice to take a break–and not have to cut and paste and bold questions and use petspeak for two days in a row or anything. Boy, am I relaxed.

Not much is new with me; I am still freelancing from noon to 5:00 at my old workplace. I don't know how long I can keep up this breakneck pace, having to get up at 10:00 and endure that six-minute commute. What all do they want from me? I'm not a machine.

It's pretty busy there, though, and those five hours fly by, and I don't spend several minutes a day having deep talks with Vilhelm Oyster or TinaDoris or anything.

Last night after work, I went to dinner with Poochie, the friend from work who owns a Hello Kitty bowling ball. She also has, like, 900,000 pair of expensive shoes, because that's her thing, but do you like how I'm more interested in the bowling ball? You can take me out of Michigan…

IMG_2323Turns out, the annoying restaurant we went to was having "breakfast for dinner" night, so we had to get breakfast items. Which annoyed us. We got pretty much the same annoying thing, and above please enjoy Poochie's finished plate.

IMG_2324And here is mine. Why is my plate so ludicrously messy and hers is all tidy? I guess because I didn't eat all of my home fries, which by the way, everything should be a home fry.

While I was at the restaurant, I talked to the Tall Boy on the phone, which by the way was super polite to Poochie. Do y'all remember the Tall Boy? I dated him for maybe an hour and 15 minutes. Anyway, I am sad to report that his dad is very ill, which is awful and I feel terrible for him, and he is off to the Midwest to see his dad.

Soon after Tall Boy and I broke up, from that deep hour-and-15-minute romance, he met another woman and they've been dating ever since. And here is the thing. I have a huge crush on her. She is GORGEOUS and I could tell from Tall Boy's Facebook pictures that she was my people. She was always doing interesting things and seeming charismatic and so forth.

One afternoon back in the spring, Ned and I were walking into a restaurant for brunch, and she was walking out. Let's give her a blog name right now. …Okay, I just used the random name generator, and her name is Domenica Wiatrak.

So there she was, Domenica was, having never met me in real life, and before I could even think about that stalky fact I heard myself say, "Domenica!"

She kind of looked at me like, "Who the eff are you?" because, you know, who the eff was I? The only way I knew who she was was from stalking Tall Boy's Facebook page. "I'm Tall Boy's friend, June!" I said, and thank god she knew who that was, because then we had us a chat and it was lovely.

We became Facebook friends that afternoon, and have a great time on there, and I have to tell you my crush on her still grows. Anyway, my point is, she texted me to see if I wanted to get together this weekend while Tall Boy is out of town.

"I HAVE A DATE WITH DOMENICA!" I screeched to Ned when I saw him last night. "What should I wear? Should I buy something new, with all my money?" "You're kidding," said Ned, who is no fun to talk to and it's no wonder I am leaving him for a woman.

I think I'll suggest we go to Proximity, which is where Ned and I had our first date. And that worked out, so. In fact, it was eight months ago yesterday that Ned and I had our first date, which he tells me is also the birthday of Robert E. Lee. Which, wow. I am dating a Southerner.

Maybe I should wear what I wore on my first date with Ned, which of COURSE I remember. I had on my black high-heeled boots, jeans, a lacy tank top and a loose-knit hangy kind of black sweater. Did I just make myself sound like Stevie Nicks? I swirled my jeans around for everyone to see all night.


Did I ever tell you I thought that's what the words were? Ooo-ooo-ooo, Jackie Poo, Hulk. That's all I have to say about that.

I had better go get ready to be there by noon. God. How can they expect people to function at that hour?


Soon-to-be-lesbian June

P.S. I just re-read this and realize I called myself interesting and charasmatic. What an asshole.

June's stupid life

Talu giff you the advices. You welcomes. (Another guest post by Tallulah Gardens. Which begs the Q, where the hell is June? Is she Howard Stern, taking eleventy days off every week?)

IMG_2173wate. whuts? lu say she do whut? lu vury bizzy person. not haf time to think about your stoopit problems. when lu say all this?

Oh. Yesturday? Lu totlee drunk yesturday.


Okay, heer your stupit advices.

Lu, how do I calm the chaos in my life? And what kind of dog food would
Radley REALLY like? Do YOU get tired of eating the same food every day?
Should I even worry about that? And when can we get you and Radley
together? Your red-blonde Pitty selves would look so good together.

how the hell lu sippozed to no that? also, ebry dog want chkkens. we not get tire of that every day. and hoo radley? why lu want to meet nother pit? Lu best pit. better than brad pitts, that for sure.

Dear Talu, I think that you're secretly in love with Edsel but don't
want your mom to know in fear that she will separate you two. Would I
be correct in this assumption?

lu got two wurds for you. they not "let dance."

How did you convince Edsel to run out the front door the other day?

you not sipozed to go out door. you do that and car run into you. it hurt. not lu falt edzul an eedeot.

Dear Lu,
Why am I finding squirrel tails in my backyard with no squirrels
attached to them? Are my pups eating the squirrels and not finding
their tails palatable? Are they making squirrels with removable tails
these days?

what kind dumb azz kwestion that be? you eber try eet skwirl tale? it get caught in neck and choke you. no one eet skwirl tale. who ask this? do edzul ask this?

Lu, any advice on the easiest way to move across the country with my dog?

go in car. how else you gonna go? You pa ingulls?

Why does my puppy eat rocks? I tried one and they are tasteless.

puppiz are dum.

Dear Lu,
I have ghoste terds in my yard,what should I du? Dus this mean I have like you no, ghostes?

lu not eben no wherre begin wif dis. what wrong wif you?

Lu – I gotz big problim. Mom (faythful reader Mrs. Oh) kaut me peeng on
ze trash can tuday and all along she blamez One Balled Pete. Ha! Now I
kaut though. Ennie advice?

shitz. you got to try hipnotyze mom back to blayming pete. that yur onlee hope.  

Dear Lu,
I have a sweet great dane puppy that is wonderful but there is a small
She keeps pooping in the kids play area, which happens to be full of
very expensive rubber bark. This bark is NOT for pooping on, it's for
playing on. It's very hard to extract poop from rubber bark. My question
is: How do I inspire my pup to poop on the grass and only the grass?

you eber poop on rubber barks? it nice. maybe find new home for kidz. 

Dear Lu,
Yu so dignified. Waz this lurned or natral? R yu wurried 'bout paparazzi cuz I neber see whure they hyde.

yes. lu alway–MOM! TAKE THESE OFF HEER!


Dear Miss Tallulah,
You are a hottie. How do you feel about a dog of color? Preferably liver and white.

lu sexee and she no it. and she heer once you go liver you don't go…lu not think of ryme.

Why does my Bulmastiff insist on peeing on the bottom of the stairs? He
has a whole yard to use as his loo (ha, no pun intended) but apparently
the wooden steps are much more attractive.

what you meen no pun intend? you call lu a toilet? you come heer. lu go pit on yer ass. not eben afraid of mastiffz.

Dear Lu,
I have 2700 square feet of hardwoods and tile floors. Why does my cat
run into another room to find one of the 4 small area rugs I have to
throw up her hairballs? And why does she always have to throw up in
three spots on them? What's wrong with the hardwood and tile that I can
simply wipe up and not have to wash? What's wrong with throwing up in
one place?

why the hell you got cat when you could hab dog? 

Lu, how do I get Izzi to poop outside, when we're OUTSIDE? We come inside and THEN she poops on the rug.

what the fux a izziee?

Lu, if you were an animal what animal would you be?

lu be the kind of animal not haf to anser kwestions from people she not no. and if you all heer, DO ANYONE HAB TREET? Not seeing any treets.

Lu, the neighbor cat who is a very large tom cat has taken to leaving me
feathers and bird remains by my back door. What is the perfect thank
you gift for me to get him for all his trouble?

lu suggest bat to hed. cats are stoopit.

Lu! You are a great writer, like your mom.

lu say thankz you. you got treet?

Dear Lu,
Why dus the stoopid cat hav to go behind the teevee to do his bisness?
It stink and make mom rilly mad. Also why do mom git her pantees in a
bunch when I byte the mailman? Don't she know he tastes goood?

lu reefer you to above. cat. stoopit. and lu alway want to byte mailman. mom never let. how you do that?

Lu, I have never seen a picture of you when you are anything less than
calm. ARE you ever anything less than calm? What does that look like?

6a00e54f9367fb88340120a83bb2a4970b-800wiLU SEEREIS MOM. STOP. GETTING MAD.

Lu~ what is your opinion of the Nipplering children? Former owners of 'Noflake.
What do you, Edsel, Lily and Iris do all day when your mom goes off to work?

those kids dum as rock. lu not eet them like dum puppee up there who eat rock.

when mom go to work we get rest. sometime eet poop. sometime bark bark bark bark bark at drunk guy who walk by. sometime we do trigonometree. what the hell you think we do?

Dear Lu,
Would YOU fire Chris Antonelli and Manny Acta for assembling and
trotting out day after day to the chagrin and frustraion of fans like me
this complete and absolute shitpile more formally known as the 2012
Cleveland Indians?
And why can everyone else meet someone to share their life with and get
jiggy with it on a regualr basis while I'm stuck here asking stupid
questions to a dog?

deer unkle hulks. about your sports…



And, you not getting any because you say "get jiggy wid it."

Lu, I think I'm falling madly in love… I wanted to wait a while, a long while… how do I slow my heart down?
Thanks darling!

lu not no what to tell you. maybe you need to get newtered.

Dear Lu,
Why does our dog Diesel growl at my husband as he is leaving for work?
Is it because he doesn't want him to leave? If so, what can we do
(besides the husband taking early retirement)?

lu think possiblee deesel not so brite.

Which is your favorite Beatle and why?

so far they all pretty tasteee.

Preferred napping material – boxers or briefs?

lu go to puppee school with boxer. he nice.

Lu, I'd love to have your life (except for the cat poup eating) so what
is the best way to acheive that? Should I find a big hair person to live

you a dog? you not a dog? why you bug lu, then? you got treet?

Lu, why are there so many depressed squirrels in the world? I assume
they are depressed because I see so many of them wait by the side of the
road and then commit suicide by throwing themselves underneath car
tires at the last minute.

they depress because they know they got tales no one want to eet.

Dear Lu,
Hey! I'm back from a ridiculous birthday vacation filled with an
overabundance of wine and decadent food. So, my question is: ab fat. Do
you know any secret tricks for getting rid of a spare tire really
quickly? And please don't say chasing after squirrels. Number one, I
think I'd look more idiotic than I usually do. And two, squirrels freak
me out.
One more question, if I may: Why does my dog carry her food one nugget
at a time over to the rug to eat it. Seems like a lot of work for such a
small, gross piece of food.
Also? Why does Mexican queso dip have to be so gosh darn delicious? This
might possibly be related to the ab fat question.

wate. you got queso dips?

Dear Lu,
What do you think of Ned? Have you met Ned's cat? If so, what did you think of her?

NED GOTS A STOOPIT CAT? Lu used to like ned.

Dear Lu, I have a beagle too and she also dug up our dead cat just like
you did with Francis. Doesn't that creep you beagles out?


Dear Talu,
Can you tell us what you were thinking that time Edsel tried to hump
you? Has he tried again? Also, are you as over Ned as you were Marvin?
Do you ever storm off screaming "you're not my real dad!?"

edzul a total perv and lu go pit on him one day. and now that lu no about cat, yes. so over unkkle neds.

Lu, why do dogs find drinking out of toilets and ass licking so enjoyable but yet not eat the lettuce I drop on the floor?
And who was your favorite furry family member? Or do you wish you were an only child?

if you think lettis so great, why you drop it on floor? also, lu only pet who mattur. lu kind of love henree but he gone. now lu sad. thank for bringeeng up painful subject. who you, anyway? lu go pit on you.

Dear Lu,
You're so smart. My question is: what should I paint next?

lu theenk you should paint this kwestion dum.

When I go for a walk around the block with my mom a Pit Bull in one yard
on one side of our loop and a Boxer from the other side of the loop
rush out of their yards barking and growling at us. They come right
onto the road and circle me. What do we do? The dog's people know
and if they are outside and see the dogs they will call them back. The
times my mom is the most afraid is when the owners are not outside – she
has to scream and yell! Carrying a stick has not helped with my mom's
confidence. This has happened three times with the Boxer and two times
with the Pit Bull. My mom is very afraid to walk that way now and has
shortened my walk because of these two numbskulls. Lu, please help me,
what can we do?

deer person wif long kwestion,

100_1345luv, lu

Lu? I took two dogs to the groomer this morning, and my most favorite
(besides my own, of course) dog of all time was there. He's a huge
goldendoodle named Murphy. How can I get Murphy's mom to relinquish him
to me and my menagerie?

go pit on her azz.

Dear Lu,
Can you ask Edsul if it is really true that if a male can lick his own balls he will never leave the house?

Dear unkle hulks,

luv, lu

honest god. it almost treet time?

Dear Lu,
I have a really annoying neighbour who keeps making fun of my
height/tells me I look like a child even though I've politely asked him
to stop. He is not a friend and is not allowed. Please give me step by
step instructions on how to get pitbull on his ass and get some alpha
female status/dignity.

do dis:

Can you get my daughter to practice her guitar? I don't seem to be getting anywhere with that.
Texas Kari

Do dis:

Dear Talula,
Your mom tried out a few online dating sites. I would like to catch me a
man. Which site(s) does she recommend and which site(s) does she think
are zombie magnets.
p.s. I do not care for zombies.

mom meet ned on okayy cupids. lu not care what you think of zombees.

Dear Lu,
Are you prepared for Cosmo's Dad's questions, should he appear here tonight?

lu not afraid of no cosmo dad. she say bring it.

Hey Lu, I sure do admire your sleek and trim figure. Would you care to
share any secrets? Specifically, I'm wondering about the cat poop
snacks. Real low in calories? Seems possible as they have already been
digested once. Tell us what you know girl!

lu onlee got her swoop bak because mom not ever feed enuf. lu eet cat poup cause she starv otherwise. mom a nazi.

…that all? Good. This stoopidest idea ever. who think of it? …oh. LU DRUNK, OKAY? Sometime you gotta let pit flag fly. lu talk to you laters. now all your problum solve.

Ask Lu · June's stupid life

cat poup delish. and other advice. (A Guest Post by Tallulah Gardens.)

100_1844lu not no if you aware that she the smart one of this operashun.

first, lu gotta live with mom. she not so dum, but there some theengs she maybe culd fix in her lifes.

Photo on 9-17-12 at 5.21 PM #2you eber seee lu hair looking like petur framton? you do not. lu keep her hair tydee all time. even when come in frum rain. and being out in rain not make lu dum. sometime gotta go in rain. sometime got to pee. it way of wurld.

oh, and you neber see lu frensh kiss wif stupit lily, eether.

Photo on 9-14-12 at 6.31 PMhonest god, mom. get brush.

IMG_2098you eber see lu pee all over howse and haf to go to vet 40 time like eye-riss? eye-riss HATE vet. she tell me. I say, stop pee on floor, then. eeedeeit.

but no. she keep doeeng it and haf to go bak in cage and go to vet. lilee never give her any advyse. just giggle when eye-riss go.

100_1846we eben need to diskuss edzul?

since no one lissen to lu heer at howse, lu have offer for you.

you got problem? you got woe? you got sorrow in lyfe?

6a00e54f9367fb8834017744d19a39970d-800wilu care deeplee.

send your kwestins and lu answer them. she tell you what to do in lyfe. she tell you how to fix all. lu solve.

you not beleef? really? look at lu lyfe. lu get to lie all day. eet cat poops. have dinnerz. get nice walk. play in yard. sometime go dog daykare. get hed skritched.

you think lu get this lyfe by accident?

go ahed. ask lu. she anser you tomorrow. unless mom not feel like it and blog about another theeng. then she anser you later.


ask lu.

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

In which June hopes Ashley Wilkes does not secretly read her blog. Cause he’s totally got his period right now and he’s gonna get emo about this one.

Sorry I did not blop at you this weekend. I was Ned-ing. On Friday, we, um, crap. What the hell did we do Friday? OH! We went to a play. There's a theater right near Ned's house, because he lives downtown and he's near everything, including heroin dealers, no doubt, but we never go in for the heroin. The smack. The horse.

Are you impressed with my drug lingo? Do you feel like you're right in an episode of Starsky and Hutch? Do you feel like you've been hanging with Sid Vicious? Do you hope I get this monkey off my back?

Anyway, after our heroin-free play, we went to a restaurant near the theater and not one but TWO of the actors from said play showed up to eat. It was Greensboro celebrity sighting at its best.

When we got to Ned's house, I made him show me pictures from his youth, and he has, like, five pictures total of himself from the '80s and '90s. However, he looks all hot in all of them, and sometimes he is smoking in said photos, which he used to do. Smoke, I mean. He quit two years ago.

I have only dated one smoker, and I got bronchitis when I was with that guy. I don't know that I'd eliminate someone from being a dating possibility if he smoked, though, despite my brush with bronchitis death. Would you? Is that a deal-breaker for you? Also, you know what I'm sick of? The phrase "deal-breaker."

It's not as bad as "BFF," however, which makes me want to gouge my liver out with a grapefruit spoon.

Yesterday, Ned and I stampeded to Raleigh, where Ned lived and smoked for many years, because there was a Gone With the Wind exhibit at a museum. They had the dress Scarlett was wearing when she drove though Shantytown and that man ripped her bodice. Remember that? And Big Sam came and saved her ass. Anyway, they had that dress. And her hat with the green velvet ribbon that she wore with the really good green-sprigged dress in the first scene.

Ooo, and also they were showing, the whole time, scenes from filming when they were trying out other actors. They had some lame-ass Scarletts and an Ashley who wasn't nearly as foppish as the namby-pamby guy they settled on. I personally am glad they got someone all noodley and girly to play Ashley, as Ashley Wilkes was the only man with a vagina who fought in the Civil War.

Ashley Wilkes. Lightening loafers since Custer's first stand.

Ashley Wilkes. Taking the Dix out of Dixie.

Ashley Wilkes. The real belle of the ball.

Ashley Wilkes. Making Aunt Pittypat look butch since–oh, you get my drift. Ashley Wilkes chaps my hide. Get your petticoats out their knot and grow a pair. Is what I say. If only Scarlett had called me. I could have set her straight on who to like.

IMG_2302And because Ned was nice enough to not only TELL me there was a GWTW exhibit, but then WENT with me to the GWTW exhibit and then had to hear 29 "Ashley Wilkes has a labia" comments, we went after to a museum with dinosaurs in it. Because Ned enjoys him a dinosaur. If Ashley Wilkes were a dinosaur, he'd be a gynosaurus.

IMG_2304I am obsessed.

Luckily for me, it was also bug day at the museum. So it was filled with 94333848583838 children and their inevitable germs, along with GIANT HUGE ENORMOUS BUGS. Giant huge enormous bugs that various museum workers were HOLDING IN THEIR HANDS like it was normal.

"OHMYGOD, is that a BUG?" I asked, while a volunteer held an insect large enough to tip her car over like Fred Flintstone's order of ribs. "Will you go kill it?" I asked Ned.

Oftentimes, Ned seems kind of drained after we spend the day together.

IMG_2305We also went to a music store, and who knew they had those anymore? We drove around and Ned showed me places he lived and perhaps told me one too many old-girlfriend stories. He used to date Ashley Wilkes.

IMG_2306I got to see a lot of Raleigh I'd never seen before, and Ned got to see my jealous side. All in all a perfect day. We finished our trip to Raleigh by going to a book store, where I am sorry to tell you I picked up The Bloggess's book. I say I am sorry to tell you because any time any of you mention her, you might as well be telling me about Ned's old girlfriends. Oh, there's a blogger out there? Who is funny? And she wrote a book? And you want me to be happy about this why, exactly?

So I really wanted to hate her book, but I looked at the first page and peed down my leg and onto the floor of the book store and then I fell over into the pee and rolled in it gleefully, so hard was I laughing. So I was all godDAMMIT when I bought the book.

IMG_2307Today, after Ned glared at me over coffee, we went to the movies and saw a film about a comedian who gets stressed about being pressured to marry his girlfriend, so he starts sleepwalking. I am making it sound not at all entertaining, and that's because I am an excellent writer. Really, though, it was good, and the chick from Six Feet Under was in it.

Ashley Wilkes used to like to watch that show, but it's on the same time that he douches.

IMG_2308While I contemplated spending my hard-earned 50 cents on bling teeth, Ned suggested we go to (wait for it) Winston-Salem, because there is this DING-DANG restaurant we want to try and it's ALWAYS CLOSED when we go there. At this point I am ready to fire-bomb the whole building, because we did stampede out there and guess.



The #*&&%@ place was closed AGAIN, and let me tell you, people of the South. WE HAVE SUNDAYS OFF, MOST OF US. AND WE'D REALLY LIKE TO GO EAT PLACES.


We contemplated heading over to Hooter's, where Ashley Wilkes works the 3-9 shift, but instead we went to the place where Brent hangs out.

Remember Brent?

There's this restaurant/bar where, if you go there EVERY DAY for 90 days, they give you a plaque and a ticket to rehab or something. So they have this chalkboard listing how many days people have been in, and the last time we were there, this guy Brent had over 500 days. FIVE HUNDRED DAYS.

At the time, Ned and I became obsessed with Brent, and it was my goal to MEET Brent, before his inevitable blood transfusion. So today I checked the board, and Brent had 603 days (!!) and you guys. There was a guy sitting alone at the bar.

"I THINK I SAW BRENT!" I screeched to Ned, who I am sorry to tell you got up and looked, too, because we desperately need lives.

"Oh, I think that's him," said Ned, as he ate his black bean cake. We really, really wanted to ask the waitress, but Ned had the feeling she was new. "She hasn't even been ALIVE 603 days," he said.

So I'm just saying to you. We may have seen the elusive Brent. Well. How elusive can he be if he's been at the same dang bar every day for the past 603 days? I mean, throw a dart. Still. I wish I'd had the nerve to ask, "Are you Brent? How drunk are you?"

That about sums up the weekend. I hope y'all had a good weekend as well. I hear Ashley Wilkes spent the whole weekend at Color Me Mine.

June's stupid life · Not Grace Kelly

Freshy prepared royal crown

Did you see they have pictures of poor Kate Middleton topless? Naturally I stampeded right over to them. Because I love her and I admire her, but if there's a chance I can see her beefeaters I am going to do so.

I realize this makes me a terrible person. Surprise!

Anyway she is very skinny. Very. That's all I have to say about that. God save those queens. Maybe pregnancy will be her friend, put the crown on those jewels, as it were.

Ned, who LOVES Kate Middleton, LOVES, is going to be disappointed, I think. She def. looks better with the clothes on. I mean, she looks GREAT with the clothes on. I did point out to him that as disappointing as Kate Middleton's middletons might be, just the fact that this was there for his perusal might mean this is going to be his best day ever.

Ned said he already knew it was gonna be his best day ever because he is going to see me tonight. Ned is a suckup. He said this as he stormed over for photos of Kate Middleton's royal twins.

How many stupid royal family breast euphemisms am I going to throw into this post? Oh, and I should mention, the photo of her buttockals, her throne, as it were, is fabulous. I guess Prince William is more of an ass man.

Kind of like his dad. BAH! Poor Queen Charles.

I have to tell  you, in all my days, I have never sunbathed topless. Why does it come up for every famous person on the planet? I mean, I know. Kate is European. Those people can't keep their clothes on. Thank god we're uptight Puritans who bathe in our turtlenecks. Did you ever see Jude Law changing out of his swim trunks in France?

Talk about disappointing.

That was a short story.

If you catch my drift.

If you're picking up the very tiny royal staff I am throwing down.

So that's my celebrity gossip for today, although I did manage to carve a few minutes out of my pressing schedule to watch a tape of Dina Lohan acting all drunk on Dr. Phil. That whole family sucks ass.

When did I become Perez Hilton?

Anyway, that's pretty much all I have to tell you today. I have to go to the grocery store now, because so far this week I have either lived off that healthy vending machine at work, and who doesn't enjoy spending $4 at the vending machine, or I have gone to Hardees, which I don't even like.

IMG_2294I like how I have the nerve to copy edit the box, while eating the absolutely horrific-for-me stuff inside.

And yes. If it ends in "ly," it doesn't need a hyphen. Even if it is modifying a noun. Which in this case it isn't even doing. Also, do you really believe in your heart of hearts that my chicken tenders were freshly prepared? Like, was that chicken running around free behind the Hardees just yesterday morning? Because I cannot quite accept that.

On that note, I am off. To get things at the store. Maybe I should get things on Sunday and just buy something to eat for lunch today. That makes more sense, right? Because everything will go bad by Monday. I'm glad we had this talk.

Tell me everything you are doing this weekend. Every stupid detail. I mean, other than looking at Kate Middleton's Windsor Castles, over there.

Good lord. Someone stop me.

June's stupid life · Photo essays

One of my stupider posts. Read on! Aren’t you encouraged?

I am in something of a rush today, but fortunately not listening to Rush, so this post will be stupid, as opposed to all the times it is profound.

I went out with Ned last night–we had salads. Oh, gee, I guess I should have warned you to sit down first, with the salad unusualness. There's this place near his house that serves the best salmon salad, and when I say "near" his house, it's like a three-block walk. In fact, on New Year's Day there was a public meditation right over there across from where Salmon Salad Restaurant is, and I went with my Pal from MA and my neighbor Peg. After, I suggested we walk to a restaurant that is right next to Ned's and they both balked, so we drove.

I didn't know Ned yet, but I was totally stalking him that day. In fact, he'd had his New Year right at that restaurant. Alone. Completely alone. Poor Ned. We met five days later, though.

I have just started all my paragraphs with "I." I told you this would be a stupid post.

Oh, but my point is, it's really not a bad walk and we do it all the time, but it seems a tad lengthy IF YOU HAVE PLANTAR FASCITIS. This thing has got to stop. I mean, I can't even walk. And you can tell by the way I use my walk I'm a woman's man.

No time to talk.

Perhaps I've told you this before, but whenever I'm in my car and a Bee Gees song comes on, I always feel like me driving around in my Bug and listening to the Bee Gees is how y'all picture me on a daily basis. Like, if you think "June," and why would you, you'd picture me doing just that.

I really don't even listen to the Bee Gees that much.

Anyway. Seeing as I must rush, I thought what I'd do is get rid of all the pictures that're on my desktop for blogging about someday. Yay! Fascinating.

IMG_2019One of the 86 times I took Iris to the vet, they had my favorite phrase on a sign out front: KITTEN ADOPTIONS. This orangesicle pookie-poo was there, just begging, "Give me a hommmmme, Auntie Joon!" Had I not been there to SEE WHY MY CAT'S PEEING ALL OVER MY HOUSE I would have been wildly tempted by Orangie and her juice, over there.

IMG_2029me tooooo, antie joon! i be orange too and wish to live wif youuuuuuu!

I do love me an orange cat. I miss Henry.

IMG_2025Okay, seriously. Somebody stop the cuteness. i has snowee pawns, antie jooooon!

IMG_2287Here is a sign for a movie that I assure you I will never be buying a ticket for. We really need to write our screenwriters and demand NO MORE BARF SCENES IN MOVIES. Why do they think this is necessary? And now they've made a whole MOVIE about it? Am sick of Hollywood regurgitating plots.

Get it? Do you?

Do you?

IMG_2205Oh, good. You can get these, quote, on the rocks. What a "relief."

Have you ever seen the blog of unneccessary quotation marks? I think some of you have sent it to me before. The person who invented this blog is my soul mate. Sorry. My "soul mate."

IMG_2257Oh! I couldn't figure out what this photo was when it was small on my desktop. Yeah. This is growing on the side of my house. What the hell is it? It has pretty yellow-orange flowers now. Am I growing pumpkins? Can I have a pumpkin patch and charge people and have hayrides and so forth? Or is this a weed of some kind that should alarm me?

It's POISON TO DOGS, JUNE! Just waiting to hear that. And in case anyone is worried sick, Avo and Cado, over here, are absolutely well. Jerks.

IMG_2281Ned's cat eats my hair. I captured it on film, sort of. YOU try to capture a cat eating your hair. It's not easy.

IMG_2291Ned, wearing my pink reading glasses because he never remembers his own, studying the menu. Studying the menu is a big thing with Ned. And every.single.time I slap my menu down 14 seconds after opening it, he always says the same thing: "Really." Like I'm lying. Like I have no idea what Ima order, I was just slapping down my menu to be impressive.

Ned. How I adore Ned.

IMG_0133Tallulah. How I adore Tallulah. She is an excellent dog and I want for little else. And yet? I also have Edsel. Can someone remind me why I thought an additional dog was a great plan? Dog 2.0? Because Dog 1.0 was fine. Excellent, in fact. Have I already said "excellent"?

IMG_2293Ned and I like going to old cemeteries, because we're ghouls. The other night we saw this cat, who was clearly not gonna let us get closer. I named him Morte-y. Because if there were a June Fan Club, I'd be not just the president, but a member. June Club for Men.

Shut up, Hulk.

Afterward, Ned came up with the idea that my tombstone could have indentations for cat food and water, thereby encouraging my own grave cat. He said he'd bring cat food along with flowers for me, although he keeps insisting he'll die first. Because Ned is a barrel of laughs.

Okay. Now I gotta go. Being at work noon to 5:00 is awkward because of the whole no-lunch thing. I should be a grownup and bring a lunch, but that would require me having food here at home. They have this new healthy vending machine at work and yesterday I got Pirate's Booty and I swear it is literally made from a pirate's booty.

Give me Hot Cheetos any day.

June, a cool dude in a loose mood.

Shut up, Hulk.

I hate everything · June's stupid life

In which everything is stupid

On my first day back at my old workplace, where I am now freelancing–

–and YES, people who know me in real life, I am working there every day. That is why I am not stampeding to answer your calls and emails and so on. Because I'm working. Now everyone has to adjust to my new schedule, because if you knew me in real life, since February I've sort of been in suspended animation. Send me an email? Here's a reply four seconds later. Text? Textbackatcha!

Not anymore. And I'm doing the thing I always do, which is not taking my cell phone to work. I live six minutes from work, and I can see my email at work. I'm not gonna yak and text while I'm there. I always have fewer phone minutes used when I have a job.

As I was saying, before I got off on THAT disclaimer, the very first day I saw my old friend/coworker Debb Killjoy, the one who sent us all an email about what margaritas do to your body the afternoon everyone was going out for, you know, margaritas. Her license plate reads: "Hike & Run" and I have always told her I'm getting a "Sit & Eat" one and parking next to her.

She's the one who goes to the vending machine for gum.


Despite all this, I like her anyway and was delighted to see her and Vilhelm Oyster. Really I like everyone at my old job. They moved The Poet upstairs, to which I say, what about MY needs?

MY POINT IS, and ohmygod I'm annoying, Debb Killjoy was ill. She was suffering from a terrible cold. This I learned seven seconds after returning to the workplace, and naturally all thoughts turned to me.

"Just a matter of time before I get this stupid cold," I thought, as I made out with Debb.

But see. I didn't even get to make out with her. I mean, seriously, all I did was stand in her doorway and guess. GUESS.

I have a cold.

Oh, I feel miserable. And we're only in the first days of it! The tingling nasal passages, the aches, the sore throat. And it just goes to show you, you can hike and run and eat gum out the vending machine and you STILL get colds. So why bother.

In other news, I took my achy self to the grocery store last night to buy inserts for my shoes because yes, my heel is still effing killing me. While I was there, I picked up some strawberries and an avocado, which if I just had to live on two foods, they'd be it. None of the avocados were terribly ripe, and if you wanna piss me off, offer me ALL UNRIPE AVOCADOS and nothing else. And I understand I could be in Biafra and looking forward to maybe eating a fly later, okay?

I also sort of understand there's no Biafra anymore, is there.

This does not detract from the part where I still hate unripe avocados, and it was all I could do to drag my nasally ass to the store and THIS was my reward. Hard unforgiving avocados.

Anyway, I got one, an avocado, I mean, and set it on the counter to ripen. Usually I put them in a paper bag to enhance the ripening process, but I was to delirious with my cold.


Guess what. And get your keyboard ready so you can FREAK OUT.

The dogs ate the effing avocado off the counter.


I know. You told me that already. You also told me that when Tallulah ate a peach, and when Ned brought me lilies. And yet? Here these idiots still are. Eating my stuff.

I mean, it's been at least 12 hours since these jerks must've done this. They seem fine. In fact, I kind of wish they'd fall over dead as we speak. I LOVE avocados. Goddammit.

And finally, the last stupid thing that happened is I went to bed last night like a normal person, trying to get my rest to stave off this impending pneumonia that's coming on, and at ONE-THIRTY IN THE #$@ morning? I hear BEEP!



Just a few weeks ago, Marvin's stupid carbon monoxide alarm beeped at 4 a.m. I had to figure out what was beeping, climb into the attic, curse the day Marvin was born and unplug it. Guess what. The @#*%#* thing was beeping AGAIN, and THIS time it took me FOREVER to figure out that's what was beeping, because I kept thinking It couldn't POSSIBLY be coming from the attic because I already unplugged that thing, carbon monoxide be damned.

But no. The part where I'd unplugged it rendered it useless for awhile, but now the BATTERY was beeping at me. So I took it down the attic stairs to find the #&$&$@$ battery in it, when


I swear to you. I SWEAR. The smoke alarm in the bedroom started beeping. I am not even making that up. HOW COULD THEY BOTH BE BEEPING AT ONE-THIRTY IN THE EFFING MORNING? And no, the house was not on fire. I think I would have figured it out by now if it were.

Mysteriously, the smoke alarm in the bedroom is now just hanging by some wires. Not sure how that happened.

Finally, I took my achy self back to bed, and as I passed the attic, shoved it to close the attic door.


The attic door is stuck. It won't shut. The things are broken on it or something. I mean, I think that attic door is probably 62 years old, as is the house, and it probably just got sick and tired of carrying on, much as I am at this juncture. And let me tell you what. It's evenings like last evening that make me want to beat Marvin with a slotted spoon. I HATE having to figure all this crap out for myself. In the middle of the night. With beeping.

June's life. Now with beeps!

June's stupid life · My pets

The Great Edsel Escape, featuring Michael McDonald

Photo on 9-10-12 at 7.53 PM #7In general, Edsel is kind of a putz.

Every person who walks by has to get barked at by him. He stands on the back of the couch and insists, "BARK! BARKBARKBARK! Wrrr–BARK!" Even at the poor drunk guy, who walks by 72 times a day because inexplicably he buys his drinks one at a time at the convenience store down the block. I mean, you KNOW drunk guy will be back. He always is.

"BARK! Wrrrr–BARK!" Maybe Edsel's saying, "Dude. Get a six-pack."

Plus there's the constant snout in my knees when I'm trying to walk around and go about my business, and so on. From Edsel. Not the drunk guy.

But one way Edsel is excellent is he doesn't run away. For those of you who've been around awhile, you'll recall that for the first two years, all Tallulah did was try to get the hell away from me, as though I spent every morning beating her with a crop. Every chance she got, she'd TEAR down the street at a breakneck pace. She has Beagle in her. That was the excuse I used, and not "My dog's an asshole."

This all changed the day I opened the door A CRACK to get the mail and she wedged around me, tore into the busy street near my house and promptly got hit by a car. And let me tell you what. She has never ever escaped again. Which is why I continue to offer Dog Tips From June: If your dog runs away a lot, hit her gently with the car.

I can't remember how I learned that Edsel wasn't a run-away-er. It must have been one of those stupid times their leashes got twisted and while trying to UNtwist, I dropped one, or maybe he ripped off his Gentle Leader, which he's always trying to do beause he abhors it like he abhors drunk guy. Whatever the situation, Edsel was suddenly on his own

(You're welcome.)

and he CAME RIGHT BACK. He always does. When we get back from dog daycare, I can just let him out of the car, and he runs right to the front door. The trash cans are near the back gate, and sometimes if I take the trash out, he'll come with me and go right back in after.

So he's good that way. Tallulah I still don't trust, even though the three of us JUST LAST WEEK were walking to the mailbox ON THE BUSY STREET and her Gentle Leader came off because she rubbed her face in the ground till it did. I turned around to yell at her to stop trying to rub off Gentle Leader (did I mention they abhor those?) when I saw she was sans any collar or leash whatsoever.

Oh, I was horrified. There we were, RIGHT ON that busy street. But you know what she did? She flattened herself to the ground, mortified to be loose. And I clipped the evil Gentle Leader right back on her.

Still. Don't trust her.

My point is, the other day I was cleaning up and doing errands and I kept going out the front door to throw things in the trash because I didn't want to traipse through the acorny back yard and trip. About 20 minutes had passed before I noticed the conspicuous absence of a snout in my knees. "Where's Edsel?" I asked Talu, who doesn't give two shits where Edsel is, ever.

"Edsel!" I called, and even if he's let himself into the back yard through the screen door, he hears me and comes tearing over the second I call him. Mom want edzul neer? oh it edsul day! oh happy day! Mom want edz!

But that day? Nothing?

"EDSEL!" I said, growing alarmed. What if the cats had stabbed him? What if he'd drunk poison in some kind of Romeo-Edsul-love-mom scenario?

Then I noticed the front door. Wide open.

The last time I'd come back in, I'd had a trash can and a litterbox in my hands, so I kicked the door shut with my foot. My brute strength must've not been enough to close it all the way, and Edsel? Must have snouted the door open and run out.

"Oh my god!" I screeched, running out the door like that PSA where the drunk guy gets into his car. "Don't take the car! You'll kill yoursaaaaaaa!" Did you ever see that one? She never gets to finish the "lf" part.

I adore YouTube.

ANYWAY, I ran outside, in a total panic. If one pet's not peeing all over the house, the other's getting cancer or running out the front door to kill himsaaaa.

I looked up the street, and there? STANDING ON THE CORNER OF THE BUSY STREET, was Edsel. He'd just been STANDING there. And I saw him standing there. Wooo!

No, I will not YouTube that song.

My theory is he got outside and was all, edzul ezcape! edz a rebbul! edz–o shitz. edzul skare.

I don't know what kept him from dashing into that street, other than moron-ic-ness and general fear and the part where God wants to punish me for selecting Edsel in the first place so he will give me Edsel TILL THE END OF TIME, but the good news is, as soon as I called him, he came tearing back, and you could tell he was totally relieved. In two years of living here, he'd never once escaped, and I have the feeling that was his last hoorah.

So that was Edsel's great escape. Maybe one day we could get him to write a guest post about it.

Books · June's stupid life

Mince Words with June: The Thorn Birds. A book in which we’re all supposed to get excited about a priest named Ralph.

Like everybody else in tarnation, I read The Thorn Birds by Colleen What's-Her-Name (I can't find the damn book. Why the hell do I put my books on the shelf by color? What the SHIT is wrong with me? It's the only anal retentive thing I've ever done in my life and all it does is confuse me. I should have them on there alphabetically or something, so then at times like this, when I'm trying to write a review and Ned is in the other room reading Oprah Magazine, waiting for me to be done, I could quickly access whatever effing book I'm looking for and get on with my life.) (But I digress.) in 10th grade, because I was hoping it'd have sex parts in it.

And it did.

Tenth grade was, like, five years ago for me, and perhaps you're wondering why I am the world's most hideous 20-year-old, but that is neither here nor there. My point is, it's been a long time since I read The stupid Thorn Birds, and I wasn't really expecting to like it at all.

But then I did! Who knew? Who knew it'd really have a plot and you'd be all, Wow, what's gonna happen next and so on.

I totally forgot the son died, and you are NOT ALLOWED to get all "spoiler alert" on me, because for the 107th time I'd like to point out YOU HAD ALL SUMMER and also YOU HAD ALL OF TENTH GRADE to read this book so boo! Surprise! Hey! The son dies.

The thing that bugged me most about this book is that Father Ralph deBricksassualt or whatever the eff his name was–and WHO HATES HER OWN SELF for color-coding those books, seriously–is supposed to be so breathtakingly beautiful. Over and over again they mention his beauty, and every time we were talking about Father Ralph I saw stupid skinny gay as shit Richard Chamberlain going to the bathhouse or whatever. Glory hole hallelujah!

I mean, Rock Hudson was gay and I can still be down with his hotess and picturing him taking a fancy to me. But there is absolutely 100% nothing appealing to me about Richard Chamberlain. Blech. He's like your fussy queenie old coworker who gets the heebie-jeebies over too many carbs in the vending machine.

So what I'm saying to you is the TV movie ruined the book for me. Video killed the book-io star.

Book-io. June's blog. Where you come for deep literary discussions and important words like book-io.

Also, I noted the old crabby rich lady, the aunt, was supposed to be so withered up and ancient, and she was in her 60s, for heaven's sake. When I read this five years ago in 10th grade, that seemed super extra old, but Rachel Welch is older than that. Helen Mirren in in her 60s. Jane Fonda is older than that. I mean, why did they have someone so young-ish seeming so dried up and practically the hag in the bathtub in The Shining? Why not make her 90?

They also mentioned Meggie's body getting old and creaky in her 40s, and I'd take issue with that if I weren't mincing around here like I'm hunting wabbits.

Oh, and another thing. Could the brothers have had any personalities whatsoever? Why have 8o of them if they're all the same celibate hard-working salt-of-the-earth character? I also got annoyed when we had to hear about the kids' lives so much and all of a sudden Meggie hardly existed.

I know all I've done is complain, but that's what I do. It's my hobby. I nevertheless thoroughly enjoyed The stupid Thorn Birds and was surprised at myself.

What did you think? Poor Ned is now reading Restoration Hardware catalogs so I gotta go. Tell all. or I'll get thorny. Didn't I already make that joke? God, I suck. You don't see any cardinals eschewing their vows for MY repeat-y ass, over here.

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

In which the word pee-hole is used.

Before I forget, ridiculous book club is tonight! I mean, I already HAD forgotten and some organized person in the comments mentioned it and I was all, oh crap.

Anyway, bring your deep thoughts on The Thorn Birds back here at 7:00 p.m. Eastern Time. Wear your ashes of roses finest. I would like to once again point out we had ALL SUMMER to read this book, this deep deep book, so what's YOUR excuse, bub?

In other news, I talked to my friend Charlie, the one who slipped on a goddamn log and broke his neck last month. He gets out of the hospital this coming Wednesday and will continue physical therapy. I am not clear on what he's able to move or not, and it seems somehow tawdry to talk about specifics anyway. I mean, if I had broken my neck and had paralysis, would I want everyone yammering on about the particulars? I don't think I would. I haven't asked him how he feels about it, I just kind of tried to put myself in his place and I think it'd feel like, I don't know, morbid curiosity or something.

You know?

But what does matter is he is still in excellent spirits, and every time I even THINK about complaining about my stupid foot I say: You know, asshole, Charlie is in good spirits and he'd be DELIGHTED to be limping around on a sore heel. So why don't you very kindly go fuck yourself, you whining pee-hole.

Maybe my self-talk needs some work.

Speaking of talk, Ned lives high up, and yet when people downtown are drunkenly parading down his street, we can totally hear them. Sometimes people walk by too fast and I'm all, I wanted to hear the rest of what they had to say!

Anyway, today we were talking about how men talk to each other, and the things they do talk about and the things they don't, and Ned was saying he recently got together with an old friend and they talked at length about the bitches they were dating.

"I didn't think men even discussed their relationships," I said. "Sure they do…" Ned began, and right then someone stampeded past his house, on his phone.

"You show them bitches more love than they show you? Them bitches take advantage," said old Confucius or whoever it was out there. Spreading his wisdom. In his ungrammatical way, he was right, of course.

"See?" said Ned, proving his point like he'd hired the guy.

In other news, we went to see The Big Lebowski with Dick Whitman and his girlfriend, who did not officially give me permission to splay her on my blog so I won't.

DWJGSee. Now I feel bad. I have Whitman with his bitches except I cut her out. I really like her. I feel awful.

IMG_2292Anyway, they were showing the movie at that old theater we like, and they served white Russians, which is only funny if you know from the movie. Oh, and happy birthday, Sue. Whoever the eff you are. Whoever the eff that bitch is. I need to get over calling women "bitches." That guy was just such an influence.

IMG_2272DW did his thing where he ate three peanut M&Ms and was gonna toss the rest before I once again rescued them.

IMG_1219Oh this is good! Here is the back of The Girlfriend's head and me being earnest. You know how I am. Anyway, she can't get mad I showed this, right? DW got up and took this. Because he needs to capture everything on film.

IMG_1232Including whatever the Sam Holy Hill I was talking about here. Do we really want to know? Do we?

Yesterday, Ned and I went to see that new Michelle Williams movie, where she's married to Seth Rogan, which, what are the chances of that, ever, in real life? Anyway it was a really good and also depressing movie, which means Ned adored it. There was plenty of naked Michelle Williams, which means Ned adored it. There was also naked Sarah Silverman, and don't nobody never need to see any of that mess.

First of all, for some reason Sarah Silverman bugs the carp out of me. I am unsure why. I think maybe it seems like she thinks she's the funniest person ever and she really isn't. No, I DON'T see any similarities, so why don't you very kindly go shut up and stop talking about your heel?

Anyway, it turns out she has kind of a disproportionate body, as well. And that is not good to see on the silverman screen, up yonder.

I know you are all obsessed with the Edsel story, but now I have spent forever trying to upload these pictures, which for some reason gave me trouble because DW emailed them to me and it was a whole thing. Anyway, he comes back in the end, Edsel does, but I will still tell the story maybe tomorrow. Maybe never. What're you gonna do?

Them bitches take advantage.