Yesterday was a dumb day. Oh, and boo. In case I forget later. Did I just scare you to death? Oh, oh, and good voting yesterday! Obama won, and I'm certain my poll was completely scientific. But back to my stupid day. I had to get up early yesterday, and by "early" I mean 8:15.… Continue reading “Hey! How you doin’? That’s me in the corner.”
Ask me how that statistics textbook is going. NOT WELL. NOT WELL AT ALL. Have you SEEN the index on this thing? They'll list one word and give you 84929492949395 pages where that word appears. And because this is a reprint, it's not on the page they say. Which means I have to FIND it… Continue reading Pick Flick
I got up early because I have several chapters left to proofread of that Polish document (don't ask), and I now also have a 350-page statistics textbook to proofread, so I was gonna try to get ahead of either of those tasks before I went to fake work, and instead I stampeded in here and… Continue reading Don’t ask
And guess who just wants to watch a little goddamn QVC, if I'd just leave her the hell alone. Sent from my cracked, haggard iPhone
Good gravy, this day has been ridiculous already and now I have to rush through this post, but I will not be playing Rush in this post. heeeeee.... Last night I got up with Dick Whitman, as I said I was gonna do, and we sat up at the bar, because all we did was… Continue reading And what you say about his company is WHAT YOU SAY–oh shoot me now.
Ohmyho, your comments yesterday were DA BOMB. And "ohmyho" is only funny if you READ the comments. Which, really? Really? You don't read the COMMENTS? You have no idea what you are missing. That's like not squeezing the white frostingy stuff on your Danish-Go-Round. Was it Danish-Go-Rounds that came with the kind of vanilla-orangey super-good-for-you… Continue reading Pie Society
Had a dreadful day yesterday, which unfortunately I cannot tell you about. Not every tidbit makes its way onto my blog. And dear person who thinks, Oh! I'm June's Special Reader! I'll email her and ask! Yeah, no. Thanks. Thanks so much. (No, Ned and I did not remotely break up. No, seeing Daniel Boone… Continue reading Ugh. And no, I have not turned into a Native American. Don’t throw your litter, though. That would bring a tear.
Lately, there has been a bird outside my window in the morning who whistles Volare. I am not making that up. I wonder if the bird has a perm? Apparently it's autumn here in North Carolina, finally, which is good, because the summer here is like the winter where I grew up, in Michigan.… Continue reading Corinthian leather. Wait. That wasn’t the Volare, was it? I don’t care. I like to say, “Corinthian leather.” Cause it’s a thing. Is what it is.
That guy is screwed. This weekend, Ned and I went to Wilmington, which in case you live in Poland or Ethiopia (I am HUGE in Ethiopia) (well, I probably would be huge in Ethiopia) or are just really stupid or something, Wilmington is a town in North Carolina that happens to be right next to… Continue reading Do you know what’d be hilarious? Is if I said, “Life’s a beach.” HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!
with Ned. Is this picture sideways? ***Sent from my iPhone. Which by the way is less of a tool-y way to sign off than people who sign off with poetry.***
Last night, my friend Hibiscus Wilson had a fundraiser for animals, and she invited me. Because you may not know this, but when it comes to animals, I am kind of a fan. She had it at her downtown office, which is coincidentally where Ned lives, and did I mention Ned has been out of… Continue reading In which Ned returns. And June has a big week of naming her posts “In which.”
Yesterday afternoon, I got an email from my pal Lilly. Not my cat Lily. My friend Lilly the person. "So, you're sad without Ned," she wrote. "I am. It's ridiculous," I said. "Chris is gone, too, and I am similarly ridiculous. Want to come over for dinner? You can help me with barn chores!" Now,… Continue reading In which June outs Lilly, and many blurry photos are taken.
I can tell you now, because he's pretty much headed out of there, but Ned was in Las Vegas for work. He is a professional Celine Dion impersonator. He was supposed to leave Tuesday afternoon (TUESSSSDAYYY AAAAAFTERNOON! Who sings that depressing old song?), and I was gonna be all CUNextTuesday and so forth (my favorite… Continue reading In which Ned meets Belle Watling
I got no time to talk to you, girl. I just got back from the vet, where Edsel had his stitches removed. not to do to edz agan, mom. He had a reaction to his sutures, they call them "sutures" there to make it all fancy and justify the part where it cost $34949494, so… Continue reading I think I was talking about Lulu, and how it must’ve sucked to be around all the other pretty Hee Haw actresses. Is how that got started.
I haven't wanted to haunt the fire department with 6,000 emails and calls. "How's Violet?" "How's Violet now?" "Whaddup with Vi?" so I waited until yesterday. They emailed me back. "Violet/Sparkles is doing great. She has the bed we got her, but she also made a bed for herself in the day room. She is… Continue reading Ack
Yesterday in the comments, someone linked us to an old movie called State Fair and one of the actors listed in the credits was Edward "Tap" Canutt, and for some reason this killed me. And by the way, if you ever wish to torture me, link me to several Rogers and Hammerstein musicals such as… Continue reading My Weekend, by June “Tap” Gardens
Ned abstained from salad! I know! ***Sent from my iPhone. Which by the way is less of a tool-y way to sign off than people who sign off with poetry.***
If there's anything I learned from the media--or maybe I could be hilarious and call it the lamestream media--coming to my house, it's that my porch steps need to be painted. And I love the people who pointed it out to me, like I didn't notice that and the trashy fan on my deck. My… Continue reading Step Work
I got up this morning and walked in and saw her empty crate. Oy. I knew I'd feel bad, but I didn't know I'd feel THIS bad. Oh, how I grew to love that little round head. Yesterday I took Violet to the fire station, where she is going to live forever. I refuse to… Continue reading The Dude Abides
***Sent from my iPhone. Which by the way is less of a tool-y way to sign off than people who sign off with poetry.***