I’m Your Venus

Today is payday, which is good, because as of yesterday I had $31 in checking and $67 in savings. And I'd been hacking at myself with a dull razor. I don't mean I was Sylvia Plath-ing out because I'm destitute. I'm pretty resigned to being destitute at this point and it doesn't depress me anymore. The whole country's destitute. At least I had whatever 31 dollars plus 67 dollars is, which I believe is around 49.50, and that may have something to do with my destitution.

No. I'd been hacking at myself with a dull razor because new blades are expensive, and why is that, exactly? It's just two slabs of metal in some cheap plastic. That'll be $19.50, please. And I don't know about you, but at my store you have to go up to the counter and ASK for the blades, like you're buying meth. Not that they sell meth at my grocery store, which would be really convenient because my dealer has really stupid hours. Who closes on Sunday anymore? Who is he, Meth-Fil-A?

So, because I knew I'd be getting paid overnight, I went to Rite Aid on the way home and went into the razor aisle. They don't do that annoying buying-meth thing there; you can just go ahead and get your razors on the aisle like a normal person.

And right there is where I saw Rite Aid brand razors.

RENEWAL, it read, which if you think about it is a dumb name because it makes you think of how you shave your legs and the next day it grows right back and why do you keep pushing this rock up this particular hill, Sisyphus? Why not just give up and grow it out and give peace a chance and start wearing wooden chunky jewelry and listening to Joni Mitchell? That's what Renewal makes me think of.

But it was $10 for eight razors, and my Venus razors are four hundred and ninety-six dollars for eight razors. You think I'm exaggerating.

"But will it FIT my razor?" I wondered. Because I'm cautious at all times. I turned the RENEWAL box this way and that. "Compare to Venus," it told me. Well, okay then! I picked up two boxes of RENEWAL, and felt very Aunt Mary. My Aunt Mary is always finding deals like a $6,000 Chanel suit for $2 somwhere.

Later last night, I was on the phone with Ned, putting away laundry, because I'm a multitasking efficiency expert, and I was putting down a clean throw rug in the bathroom for Iris to pee on, so I got out my RENEWAL razors, tossed my old dull terrible-at-parties Venus razor head in the trash and–

"My new razor doesn't fit." I interrupted Ned in the middle of whatever he'd been saying.

"What?"

Turns out boys don't know from girl razors, and how you can just buy new heads, and how you SHOULD do that because it's better for the earth and how I can't stand to think of those polar bears with no ice and that one floating out to sea on that tiny ice cube, have you seen that movie? Don't see it. Anyway, my damn RAZORS DIDN'T FIT.

"It says compare to Venus Embrace and it doesn't FIT!" I told him, growing alarmed. And don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you got till it's gone? I'd thrown out the goddamn trash, so the goddamn receipt was already gone.

"Why would they TELL you it compares to a razor it doesn't FIT?" I asked. Oh, I was mad. I looked on the back of the box. "Fits this kind of Venus," it read, and showed an image .000003 of an inch, with no name on it, "and not this" another image, .000003 of a millimeter. HOLY ACORN OF GOD. NO ONE in this UNIVERSE would be able to see that image. NO ONE!

I called Rite Aid, despite the fact that Ned said, "Can't you just NOT SHAVE tomorrow morning?" You can imagine my sparkling mood. After being hung up on once, getting sent back to the "Thank you for calling Rite Aid" the next time and FINALLY getting a person the third time (mood was EVEN BETTER), I started my story. "Hi. I was in there a few hours ago, and''

CLICK. HOLD MUSIC! She just PUT ME ON HOLD! No warning! Nothing!

I tell you what. Thank god they paved paradise and put up a parking lot, because my pajama-bottomed self was in that parking lot five minutes later, Edsel with me for protection. There was nobody in the store, so thank heavens Kristal, that was the store attendant who was there, put me on hold, because clearly she was overwhelmed with duties. Although I do have to say in person, she was very nice. (I told her my boyfrind had suggested I go a day not shaving. She did the head swing a little. "Mmm-hmm. I hope you told him that was NOT an option.") So maybe she wasn't the yahoo answering the phone over there at Rite Aid.

I told her my story, and she said sure, I could return the razors without a receipt. Oh, thank goodness.

And it was then that I realized I'd only brought one of the two boxes I bought.

And that, folks, is why I now ALSO own a Rite Aid brand RENEWAL razor to go with my stupid RENEWAL blades. And I may go Sylvia Plath with it right now.

 

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Will you look at the TIME?

I am running horrifically late, a fact I blame on Ned and his alluringness. So because I have to be at work in SEVEN MINUTES and here I am blogging, let's have a Very Special Episode of Bye Bye, Pie.

Let's have Ask June. What you wanna ask me?

What do the crippled folk do?

It "snowed" here.

IMG_2864dis it? even edz not impress.

Edsel somehow manages to look more dignified when he's outdoors. Maybe it's because his underbite isn't as apparent, or his ears are dwarfed when you compare them to the solar system. I don't know. But can you see he has snow on his snout? There's dignity for you.

"You're a good-looking dog, Edsel," Ned always tells him. I'm not sure if he's being sarcastic or what. I mean, a yellow Lab is a good-looking dog. A black German shepherd is a good-looking dog. Edsel is more cute and ridiculous, which makes him even more cute.

But discussing whether Eds is a 10 or a 7 is not why I gathered you all here today. I wanted to discuss the blizzard that tore apart our nation. They've delayed my work till 10:00, and god, I love the South. I made a WHOLE pot of coffee, and let's not discuss how I am not supposed to be having caffeine, and some brown-flaxy-wheaty-heavy-I-grew-up-in-a-hippie-home toast with almond butter.

The dogs are having the crusts. Talu never, ever misses when I throw food, and Edsel never, ever catches it when I throw food. Fortunately he's learned to retrieve it quickly, as Tallulah is capable of catching the thing I threw for her and also swooping down to steal whatever bounced off Edsel's teefs.

But I did not gather you all here to talk about what a dick my dog is. I gathered you here to discuss the blizzard that tore apart our nation.

IMG_2860Here's Ned, traipsing through the blizzard that tore apart our nation to get me through the gate that leads to his labyrinth apartment. Let me tell you. When I had a sprained ankle? What was fun was that 87-minute, 14-different-flights-of-stairs walk to Ned's place. What do the crippled folk do?

The snow started yesterday afternoon, after, I'd like to point out, I did a snow dance at work, where my coworkers may have been laughing less with me than near me. BUT I MADE IT SNOW! And they let us go early, and I took this early dismissal seriously by being very cautious. And by "very cautious" I mean I hauled my slutty ass to Ned's. Where we discussed moving in together, and we're leaning toward it, but if you read my Purple Clover article, you know I don't want to fix anything that isn't broken.

I love Ned TO DEATH, and I don't want to ruin that. But I love Ned to death, and want to move forward with our relationship. BUT WHAT IF I RUIN IT?

Quandary. I guess there could be worse quandaries. Oh, she loves someone to DEATH and he loves HER and they want to BE TOGETHER. That poor thing. Still.

And speaking of the person who put me in this quandary, I spoke with Marvin this week, because he had to text me to tell me about BARRY GIBB'S CONCERT TOUR!

After the excitement of that wore off (pfft. Like the excitement of THAT will ever wear off), I said to him, "Will you send me some of the videos we took in the '90s, when we were first married, so I can edit them and put them on my blog?"

I mean, come on. Don't you guys want to see me in an overall dress and brown lipstick? You know you do. "Yeah, sure," he said. But then the next day I wrote him again.

"You know, when we separated, I asked you to write me one last letter." Marvin had written me a lot of great letters over the years, and I have them all in a box. "I wanted one last letter, and you never wrote me one, and I've never mentioned it, but what I'm saying to you is I really want those videos. I don't want them to go the way of the one last letter," I wrote.

Marvin wrote back. "F," was all he wrote.

 

God, that app is the best thing that ever happened to me.

Anyway, F. Okay, that was funny. Still.

Oh! I have to go get ready for work, because I'll still find a way to be late even if we don't start till 10:00, but this morning I saw these tracks in the snow, along with the tracks of my tears.

IMG_2866DOOD! What is that? Do we have antelope? Is that it? Is it DEER? Do the deer and the antelope play? I can guarantee you that somewhere in this house you can always hear a discouraging word. Usually "Get the fuck off the couch, goddammit." But sometimes it's "What am I, a marsupial?" Oh, you should have seen me try to find an outfit for that book event I went to this weekend. Just me, my hair and the cannon I was apparently smugging in my abdomen. Holy crap. And I like how I'm all baffled by it when I ate two boxes of Girl Scout cookies last week.

A sleeve is a serving.

Oh my god, I really have got to go, but tell me what those tracks are. Here's another shot. Another professional shot.

IMG_2869Do you like you my wellies? WHAT IS IT? Could it be Pan? What are those tracks? Someone nature-y tell me!

You're a good-looking reader, Reader.

My Unnatural History

The fun thing about having a blog is the part where I get to take a lot of pictures of myself and pretend it's "for my blog" when you know perfectly well most times I just blow those photos up and stroke them lovingly. The other interesting thing is that I can see what I was doing every day since 2007. Sometimes I wonder when something happened–but not often because I have one of those freakish memories and it bugs the people who really know me.

"No, you DIDN'T say that in May of 2011. You said it in March of 2009, I remember because I had on the blue boa."

You know it's perfectly possible I was wearing a blue boa at some point. The POINT is, sometimes I wonder when something happened, and I can go here and LOOK IT UP!

Anyway, today I thought I'd see what I was up to on January 28 of years past. Exciting!

January 28, 2013

June reports from her cold. She never drones on when she has a cold. Fortunately.

Hey, how're y'all? I have a cold. I know that when I have a cold, I do not carry on dramatically or anything. Are the lights going out? Is that a tunnel?

Yesterday I slept and splayed histrionically on the couch and blew my nose. It is amazing how many Kleenexes I plowed through, but I have them in droves because my Aunt Mary sent me a bunch, thinking she was hilarious. I have always had the theory that only rich people have Kleenex. I mean, you need a tissue? Why can't you just use toilet paper? You don't need a whole FANCY DIFFERENT form. I said this once when Aunt Mary was visiting, or maybe it was my father and he reported it to her, but anyway neither of them have stopped making fun of me since and for Christmas Aunt Mary sent me, like, six boxes of Kleenex.

I feel so rich. And, truthfully, glad to have all this goddamn Kleenex.

**********************************************************

January 28, 2012

We had our usual routine this morning, where the dogs immediately burst outside like the house is on fire, and then when they hear me feeding the cats, through the wood and the brick and the five rooms from the back yard and the insulation, they want right back in. Then after they eat, the house is apparently aflame again.

In other news, guess what.

6a00e54f9367fb88340167613ad791970b-800wiDude, I effing love Latisse. I am unsure if I have touched on this topic enough.

**********************************************************

January 28, 2011

Rockwellin out with my smock out

Wouldn't it have been awful if I'd have driven all the way to Raleigh for that Rockwell exhibit and instead of Norman Rockwell it was that idiot Rockwell, who sang Somebody's Watchin' Me?

Luckily everyone continued to not watch THAT Rockwell and we all looked at Norman Rockwell instead.

After the exhibit, Carpool Queen had to go…carpool, and I had about an hour before I got my roots done. 6a00e54f9367fb88340147e210a7e5970b-800wiFortunately I found something to do.

**********************************************************

January 28, 2010

Perhaps you were thinking, "I wonder what June and her household are doing?" sometime around 7:57 p.m. last night. Or, you know, not. Nevertheless, I decided to photograph everyone in their element to see if we could find anything interesting.

We didn't.
6a00e54f9367fb88340128771db147970c-800wiFirst of all, here is me. And my, you know, HAIR.

6a00e54f9367fb88340120a81a9712970b-800wi

As per usual, Tallulah was .06 centimeters from me, and you know what would be great? Is if I knew how far that actually was.

6a00e54f9367fb88340128771d918b970c-800wiWinston is in the in box. Of course. And he seems pretty smug about it. "I'm in. Winston is the new black."

6a00e54f9367fb88340120a81a9839970b-800wiHenry was looking regal in his chair, and studiously ignoring his scratching post.

**********************************************************

January 28, 2009

I just finished watching What Not to Wear

Can we please do away with the following phrases?

Comfort zone.

Outside of the box.

Fashion forward.

Push the envelope.

Thank you. I do not mean that we can do away with the phrase "thank you." I'd like to keep that one.

**********************************************************

January 28, 2008

Running and Raleigh

Yesterday, Marvin Gardensalad and I went to Raleigh, because I have never been to Raleigh, and guess what? Turns out I like Raleigh.

It is a real city, with cool shops and Manolo Blahniks and gay men and all the things I require. There was also a man with gray hair and a mohawk, which I think is great. Maybe I'll grow my hair gray, as I have been threatening to do, and then finish off the look with the hawk of the mo.

So, there we were, shopping somewhere cool in Raleigh, when the back of my leg itched because I probably have rickets, which I don't even think is an itchy disease, I just wanted to say rickets.

**********************************************************

There's no blog post for January 28, 2007, but there IS one from January 27. This was back when I had a no-spending blog.

January 27, 2007

The questions on everyone's lips seem to be (a) can I borrow the $2,300 you have already saved (Answer: No) and (b) what on earth did you once spend $2,300 a month on? Funny you should ask.

I added up those old receipts just to see what I spent on back in the day. And guess what? It wasn't food I spent so much on! Which may explain why I haven't lost ONE. SINGLE. POUND. since starting this endeavor.

Here's what it came down to: in November of 2006, I spent
$354.47 on gifts for other people (Marvin Gardens and my mother have November birthdays);
I spent $349.34 on groceries;
I spent a shockingly low $73.06 on eating out (I was trying eDiets, so that sort of explains it);
$106.63 on gas and parking;
$6.48 on the cats (Francis needed a new collar); and
$592.59 on personal stuff for me! $592.59! I sent flowers to myself, I had my eyebrows done at Damone (really the best eyebrow guy — he is on all the makeover shows), I bought clothes, shoes…GEEZ!

**********************************************************

God, I miss living in LA and getting my eyebrows done by Damone. So, anyway, there it is, everything I've been up to on this day for the last seven years. I wish I hadn't had to see pictures of Henry and Winston. Killing me. And why did I look so awful back in 2010? Man! No WONDER Marvin left me.

I guess that's all I had to tell you. I hope you enjoyed this trip down memory lane. I went to Raleigh on two different January 28ths. That was weird. And remember I told you this story: The time Marvin and I went in 2008, I had this really strong premonition while I was there. I've never had anything like it. But I thought, "The next man I fall in love with lives in this city." And I showed Ned where I HAD that premonition, and he said, "I didn't live far from there." He may have been WALKING BY ME while I thought it!

I hope I didn't look the way I did in 2010.

June and her hair and her premonitions, out.

Who’s this “Karen”?

I am ridiculous.

Hello, everyone. It's Monday. and my blown-out hair is starting to look a little ragged. Photo on 1-27-14 at 7.44 AM
The whole all-straight look is so foreign to my locks, it's like it's fighting to make its wavy self known again. So piece by piece, the straight parts rebel and kink.

It's like how the smart German shepherd part of Edsel every one in awhile wins over the…let's call it rollicking Irish setter part of Edsel. He'll figure something out, or understand what I said, and it's all, "HEIL! GERMAN PART OF EDS IS HEA!" That was my German impression, saying "hea" instead of "here." You're welcome. But then Edsel's Irish setter part comes right back and he continues to cut soap.

Unknown

Yesterday, Ned and I went to a book thingamajig at the fancy hotel here in town. That was the official name for it: Book Thingamajig.

IMG_2831It was at the same fancy hotel my mother and stepfather stayed in at Christmas. I kept expecting my mother to emerge from those doors with a shopping bag. Every time I picked them up, she had another shopping bag. "I brought treats for the dogs and seven dozen cookies." "I brought all new bedding for you, and 12 cans of house paint." "I brought a donkey, so we could have Los Posadas." Honestly, I don't know how she managed to get on the plane with 79,000 shopping bags.

IMG_2841Anyway. It was an event celebrating local authors, and I am pleased to say it had a great turnout. And there was fancy water served, infused with berries and citrus, that I wanted to try but worried had grapefruit in it, because I'm tons of fun.

When I got my hair dyed this weekend, the smells and so on made my throat close up, which I politely did not share with my hairdresser, but I got a serious migraine after, and broke out in a rash everywhere my hair touched on my body. "I wonder if there's some kind of pill I can take for these reactions," I said to Ned.

"Yes, a chill pill," he said.

 

My POINT is, local author event. Up there was my important friend Jo, signing one of her books.

IMG_2842And here's my important friend Sarah, who just won ANOTHER award for her poetry. A Pushcart. I wonder if she gets an actual pushcart? That might be nice. Turn it into a little wet bar.

I guess this is why I never win awards.

IMG_2837Also, am taking damn iPhone to the Apple store TODAY to get them to fix my dang lack of flash on my camera. But look at my important write-y friends.

IMG_2834Ned, hobnobbing with the celebs. Teabagging with the celebs. Does he look all New York now, do you think? I'll have to show you the Empire State Building he got me. I mean, he didn't actually purchase the real building for me, which might have been nice.

Empire State Building Getting Makeover. New Yorkers Appalled at New Pink Sparkly Structure.

I have to go. My jacked-up hair and I must work. Oh, but before I go, I talk about the Super Bowl this week on Purple Clover. Sports talk with June. "June."

"Bye."

FogJune LegJune

I think I've been pretty subtle about this, but Ned has been gone all week and I was vaguely aware that he was gone.

YAY! NED IS BACK!!!

Photo-42

Here's a picture he sent me from the Natural History museum. Ned loves him some natural history. Nothing about my history is natural. Make no bones about it. God, I'm hilarious.

Anyway, yesterday morning I got up and schlepped downtown to get my roots done, which were 50 feet long and they are still kind of see-able and so now I have to call my poor pregnant hairdresser, who looks like a pretty Maria Shriver, to tell her we need a re-do.

Photo on 1-25-14 at 4.38 PM #5Here's a photo I took yesterday afternoon for the sole purpose of complaining about my roots today, because sometimes I start writing my blog in my head as I live my life, and I'm not sure that's 100% great, but there it is. Anyway, it turned out I liked this shot, because I look like the kind of schoolmarm who's gonna rip off your clothes and throw you on the desk despite the terrible sex-on-the-desk story Faithful Reader Tee told us in the comments the other day. If you don't read the comments, suffice it to say you should keep your man parts far away from desk drawers.

Ow. And I'm not being James Brown right now.

Anyway, see? My roots? Just a little? Well, I do. And pregnant Maria Shriver hairdresser is gonna be irked. Also, I am certain my pregnant Maria Shriver hairdresser has no clue who Maria Shriver is, as it turns out PMSH has a mom my age.

 

Nothing makes me happier than Price is Right losing horn. It's six seconds of perfection.

After my hair, I was already downtown, so I thought maybe I'd shop a little, perhaps pop in, just POP IN, to the midcentury modern furniture store, not that I was going to look at hot midentury modern furniture guy or anything. But first I stopped in and got some teriyaki chicken that turned out to be not even good.

IMG_2806Here I am at teriyaki chicken place, looking less than pleased. Not only did I have bad teriyaki, it was 17,000 below zero out, so I eschewed downtown and went to TJMaxx.

PARTAYYY!

I decided to get new dog beds, because knock wood, Iris has allegedly stopped peeing on everything all over yonder, so we'll see if these remain pee-free. My mother told me you can sometimes get dog beds for $5 at TJMaxx, and it turned out yesterday was not one of those days, but I did get them for $14.99 apiece.

IMG_2829yu waist money, mom. edz perfectlee happee to lie on cowtch.

IMG_2830dis beneef lu.

After my not-at-all depressing time at TJMaxx (does anyone else find that place depressing?), I saw a nail place in the same strip, and since I sprained my ankle in November I've not had a pedicure. I STILL can't have one, as I cannot contort my ankle enough for one, but I DID get a mani. I was livin' large yesterday.

There was this cute old woman in there, in a Christmas sweatshirt with a collar attached to it. "I really have a problem with my toenails," she said, sliding on her coat. "They just get so long. I've tried pertnear everything."

…?

After she left, all the nail ladies starting yammering in Vietnamese (is Vietnamese a language?), and I knew they were talking about her. How could you not? "Yeah, I just can't seem to figure out this nails-growing thing. How can I address this issue? Hmph. Stumped."

Anyway, that would have been entertainment enough for one day, but then I had Dick Whitman's party.

IMG_2809It's been awhile since y'all have seen The Whitman on my blog. He has a girlfriend now–that's her in the background. She wants her blog name to be Peggy Olsen, which I can get behind.

IMG_2812 2

IMG_2825They served barbecue, IMG_2815and had a whole Foghorn Leghorn theme.

IMG_2826Dick Whitman even has the chicken hawk! How does he own this?

IMG_2807And why does he own this?

IMG_2819It was fun, and I met friends of DW I had never met before whom I loved, IMG_2823and it was one of those nights where you talk and laugh and all of a sudden it's 11:00 and you're all, How is it so LATE already?

IMG_2822I brought my substitute boyfriend Naughty Professor, and he was the life of the party. We all told stories about how religion influenced us growing up, and seeing as everyone there was a Southerner they had serious stories. Naughty Pro talked about how when he was a kid he went out to the yard and couldn't find his sister or mom anywhere. He panicked.

"Oh, no!" he thought. "The Rapture happened, and my mom and sister are gone and I got left here!"

I can assure you that thought never once crossed my mind during my hippie childhood.

But then I got the text, "I'm back in town," and I dumped Naughty Pro like God during the Rapture, and screamed over to Ned's and no photos were taken because I was too busy being happy.

Ned is back. Yay.

Talk at ya, cocksucker.

Oh, and P.S. Here's what we had for dessert. I know, dude. My life is perfect.

IMG_2816

Rooster

Ned comes home today!!

Ned comes home today!!!!

Did I mention Ned will be back?

He won't be back till late late late, though, which annoys. All the work part of his trip is done, so why can't he stampede home tout suite? Maybe I'll find a way to use "tout suite" every day. That'll be fun for all of us. Anyway, Faithful Commentor and New Yorker Paula said Ned would be dead to her if he didn't get pizza AND a bagel while he was in New York, so he did. Because god forbid he be dead to someone he's never met.

"Tell Paula my pizza was goddammit good," he told me, when he called me from the street, and had to say "What?" after every single thing I said to him. He went to dinner in Brooklyn last night, because he's trendy, but while HE was doing all that, I went to the movies in Greensboro.

I know! Envy.

IMG_2800I went with my friend Dan, who was rocking out with his Perrier out at my house, here. We went to see Wolf of Wall Street, which I ended up liking a lot more than I thought I would. There was a lot of your debauchery in that film.

"I feel like I've missed out, having never snorted cocaine off any woman," I said, as I dutifully threw out my popcorn box at the exit.

"Or say the word 'cocksucker.' I never really say that. I'm gonna try to work it in more," said Dan. "You want to get a cocksucking drink now, or are you tired?" he asked me.

Dan and I went to the same hotel bar where Ned and I had our first date, and where we went last Sunday to celebrate our anniversary of dating. Ned and I had had a really great bartender last Sunday night, and had chatted with him. In fact, I'd told him I'd put him in my blog, but the lighting in there is so awful that my pictures never turn out. My FLASH isn't working on my iPhone. Does anyone have tips for me?

IMG_2743Here's a dark shot of our bartender. He was just funny. And cool.

IMG_2745And here's a dark picture of Ned and me that the bartender took. Oh, I miss Ned. Did I tell you he'll be home tonight?

My point is, that night, our anniversary, we were not what you'd call cold to each other. I think we may have held hands occasionally, and I know we were talking to each other like no one else was in the room–saying how glad we were to have spent these past two years together–and we kissed in public, which we don't usually do. I am just saying, no one looked over at us and said, "I wonder if those two are brother and sister?"

So when I walked in less than a week later with a whole 'nother dude last night, that bartender looked… crestfallen. And I could tell he was going to be smooth as silk and be all, "Hey, how are you? What can I get you, you two-timing trollop?" A dignified woman would just order and go on with her night, but I had to be all, "I'M NOT CHEATING ON MY BOYFRIEND. THIS IS MY FRIEND, DAN, WHO I REALIZE IS HANDSOME AND HE IS PRINCE WILLIAM OF GREENSBORO AND EVERY WOMAN WANTS HIM, BUT I AM THE EXCEPTION TO THE RULE. GET ME A DRINK. GOD."

And Dan was all, "I'd like a cocksucking whiskey, please, sir."

IMG_2802Honestly. What I wouldn't give for a flash. Stupid phone. Cocksucker.

Anyway, the bartender said he sees a lot of stuff behind that bar, where he's worked for 11 years, and has sort of lost his faith in humanity. He'll see people bring in mistresses, hookers, one woman brings a guy in each Tuesday and another every Thursday, you name it.

I am so boring. I was 100% faithful to Marvin. It never occurred to me to NOT be.

Dan and I talked about his single life, which is relatively new to him, and how every woman in town would give their EYETEETH for a little Dan action. We laughed about how he could be on 50 dates last night, "But here I am with a friend while her boyfriend's in New York. Yeah, I've got it all together."

But really, his reticence to bang every middle-aged woman in the Triad is endearing, and will just make everyone love him more. He should teach classes. How to Seem Like a Nice Guy and Get Even MORE Women Up On You.

"I guess I should call someone and ask them to a movie or something," he said. "I could text a woman. 'Hey, cocksucker, wanna see a movie?'"

"I beg you to do that. I think that's what all women just want to hear," I told him, and I, too, should teach a class.

Anyway, we had fun, and gossiped, and I giggled like an idiot, and finally it was time to go. "Thanks, cocksucker, I had fun!" we said as we parted ways.

Tonight Dick Whitman is having a partayy, and I will fill you in on all the details tomorrow. Or the deets. Do you wish I said "deets" more often?

You cocksucker.

Swoop

There are many things I've been meaning to tell you, then I get here to my computer and forget. I am doing the same thing with Ned, who is finally in New York, and every time we talk or email I think, "Oh, yeah, I was saving up to tell him…"

???

Why does that happen?

Anyway, the FIRST thing I wanted to tell you was the other night I came home and plopped my own self on the couch tout suite.  I actually have no idea what "tout suite" means, but I think it means, like, right away. I was tuckered out, and wanted to rest my eyes a minute before continuing on with my pressing evening.

The moment I am remotely still in this house, all 72 animals get on me. I am not even kidding you. It's all, oooo, she hestitate one minnit? get up on dis. I haven't peed alone in six years. So anyway, that night, Lily immediately jumped on the couch and curled up right against me, which is cute.

A minute later I felt a terrible nearness, and when I opened my eyes, there was Lu, eyes boring into both our souls. And instead of just jumping up and getting near me some other way, that dog got on her hind legs, and with her dog arm, just SWOOPED poor Lily off the couch. You know that gesture you'd make if you were to dramatically sweep everything off a desk? Like they do in movies before they have sex, and I don't know about you, but office desks never really get me in a mood. And the whole time I was doing it, I'd be thinking, Right after this we're just gonna have to clean everything up.

IMG_2774So yeah. Lu swooped and won. Poor Lily.

The other thing I've been meaning to tell you is on Friday night I am going to the movies with my hot friend Dan, who you all got so enamoured with when I showed him two other times. 6a00e54f9367fb883401a3fbe13f23970b-800wiY'all need to calm down. But you're not the only ones; all of my single friends are all up into him, as well. Dan is a lovely person, but he's no Ned. Y'all missed the boat when you didn't get with Ned before I got to him.

Anyway, somehow my hot friend Dan and I got on the subject of JDate, which is a dating site where you meet Jewish men. "I'm going to start my own dating site, Methodist Date," he wrote me. "All the men on there will be sort of liberal but too quiet to really take a stand. And we'll all wear cords and button-downs in our profile pictures. Our religious affiliation will tell you nothing about how we're endowed."

Who loves his own Methodist self? "We'll have banner ads for pleated khakis and frozen yogurt. Oh! But remind me to put down that I'm a playa," he wrote.

Okay, whatever with him. But I love the idea of MDate. I'm so inventing that and stealing his entrepreneurial dollars.

And speaking of loving our own selves, today my boss was talking about how his neighbors have rats. "It's really a problem," he told us, as opposed to work's new open floor plan, which is not a problem at all, because as you can see it does not encourage useless conversations. "My neighbors live in a really old house, and apparently there are all kinds of tunnels under these old houses, so that's where the rats come from."

"Wow, it's like they have HarriRAT Tubman," I said.

I wish I could tell you the amount of enjoyment I got out of myself for that one. Remember when Mr. Roper would just smile at the camera? I was like that.

I guess those are all the pressing things I had to tell you.

IMG_2780After work today, I got up with all of my coworkers, who are all named Alex. I would love to fill you in on what we discussed, but there was not one iota of anything appropriate to tell you. Do you enjoy my from-outside art shot? I am Diane Arbus. I am HarriRAT Tubjune.

IMG_0134This Alex just got engaged at Christmastime. That thing is a planetoid.

IMG_2786This Alex thought today was the chili cookoff day, when in fact it's next week, so he brought his giant pot in and we all had some at lunch. Later in the day we got a company-wide email reminding us the chili cookoff is next week, so all of us forwarded the email to Alex. We are a laugh riot. A buncha funny Alexes. Is what we are. Maybe I'll change my name to Alex. Kind of fit in better. Or, HarriRAT Tubjune.

I GUESS that's all I have to tell you. Just two more sleeps and Ned is back. As I said, Friday night I have a movie with hot friend Dan, then Saturday night, Dick Whitman is having a party, and after it's over I will drive to Ned's because he will finally be getting home. If his flight gets cancelled Ima cut a bitch. Ima swoop someone off a couch.

Let's just hope it all goes well. Because I'm on edge. Having Ned withdrawal. I'm jonesing. I'm Nedsing.

I'm done now.

Swoopily, June

Come Dancin’

For some reason, I feel dance-y today, and started thinking about my favorite dance scenes in movies.

FLASHDANCE

 

I saw Flashdance when I was 18, and Alex, Jennifer Beals' character in the movie, was 18. Oh, how I wanted to live in a loft and dance and have a butt like this. Please refer to my life, where none of that ever happened.

Sometimes I get water on me, so. What a feeling!

PULP FICTION

 

Tell me you don't do the V over your eyes thing whenever you dance now. "I do believe Marsellus Wallace, my husband, your boss, told you to take ME out and do WHATEVER I WANTED. Now I wanna dance, I wanna win. I want that trophy, so dance good."

PEE WEE'S BIG ADVENTURE

 

The white shoes. As soon as I see the white shoes I know I will never be sad again. Also? Tequila.

LOVE, ACTUALLY

 

Because this is the kind of Prime Minister I'd be.

IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE

 

"They're cheering! We must be good!" Story of my life.

WEDDING

 

Not a movie at all. But this is still my favorite thing anyone ever did.

DIRTY DANCING

 

I carried a watermelon.

I saw that movie with my grandparents. After my initial mortification, I loved this scene.

PRETTY IN PINK

 

I never understood why she didn't like Duckie and stuck with Blaine.

PRISCILLA, QUEEN OF THE DESERT

 

I actually think of this scene often when I write write write a post, and crack myself up, and get all sweaty with the effort, and…four comments. Okay, I haven't gotten just four comments since 2007. Still. You know what I mean.

ALMOST FAMOUS

 

This isn't even much of a dance scene, but I love it. That whole movie haunts me, really. I know I've shown you this scene before:

 

I guess I just like that movie.

Anyway, those are my favorite dance scenes from movies. Are there any you like?

Winter Storm 2014

We had a pretty dramatic accumulation of less than half an inch of snow, and I was hoping they'd delay work today, but no. Don't even laugh. They closed school early yesterday because it might could snow. "Might could" is one of my favorite Southern phrases. Along with "carry." If someone needs a ride somewhere, you carry them there. "Sure, I'll carry you to the tag sale." "Tag sale" here is what we call a "rummage sale" in Michigan.

And nobody send me the quiz with the map of the U.S. that reveals what region you're from. Seen it. Done it. I'm from my own region. What do you know?

Remember when I used to complain endlessly about getting that cat/dog diary emailed to me? Now it's things on my Facebook wall. "Made me think of you, June!" and it'll be some grammar thing that's been put on my wall six other times.

Yes, I AM the world's crabbiest human. I mean, other than Hulk.

In other news, I made Lily dance. Speaking of crabby.

 

Her annoyed expression is priceless.

While I was embedding that veeedeo into my post, this one started right up and I realize I never showed it to you on this blog because I didn't HAVE a blog then. But it's about my favorite app, one that applauds after you say something.

 

Anyway.

I'd better get ready for my scary drive through the half-inch of snow. I guarantee you someone will use this as an excuse to wear jeans and boots to work. I assure you someone will. Once we had one of those half-inch storms and I saw a woman in pajama bottoms and Uggs at the store. I just wanted to slap her. "It snowed out last night. I can't possibly put on pants as a result."

Ned was supposed to fly to New York City for the week, and on Sunday I saw him and we said our goodbyes, and I wouldn't see him till Saturday night and it was sad. He was gonna fly out Tuesday. Then on Monday he emailed me. "I think I'm going to buy a hat for my trip." So I went with him to get a hat, which he couldn't decide on but I found one I really want, and anyway we said our goodbyes all over again and I wasn't gonna see him till Saturday night and it was sad again.

Then his flight got canceled.

So now he's supposed to fly out TODAY, but last night his phone rang and it was the airline, canceling. The best part is when they're done saying, "We've canceled your flight" they finish with "Thank you for choosing Cancel-Pants Airlines!" Yeah. You're welcome.

So I don't know if he's leaving and I need to feel sad or not. It's a rolly coaster of emotions. I enjoy people who say "rolly coaster." Also, Dick Whitman is having a dinner party this weekend, and when I lerned Ned was going out of town, I asked my friend Naughty Professor to go with me, and now it could end up that I go out on a hot date with Naughty Pro and Ned stays home. I mean, it's a DINNER party; I can't just BRING BOTH. Rude.

So that's the drama that's occurring in my life today. Heavy snow, canceled plans, two hot dates.

Plus, a dancing Lily.

Did it snow where you are? Oh, and did you know Iceland has a volcano? Because Ned says EVERYBODY knows that, and I didn't so I figure no one else knows. Tell me. He was very smug about the whole thing. Probably his flight isn't being canceled at all; New York just finds him too snooty to let in.

The splendor of me

As most of you know, I also write for a website called Purple Clover. I know. You can't get the eff away from me. I also edit my company's newsletter. Soon I'll be writing your entire local newspaper (your sports section should be riveting), all the greeting cards at your Hallmark and the Christmas letters from everyone you know. My point is, on Monday I have to float a new column idea for my editor at Purple Clover, and I really just like to say "my editor."

I've been writing for them for 34? 35? weeks now, and coming up with a new idea is not easy. Sometimes I write my editor and he says, yeah, you know what? Not so much with your stupid idea, June. And that is what he did this week, and that is why I am instead writing here, where no one pays me and you're stuck with whatever cockamamie thing I want to write each day.

But that's not important right now. It's a big building with patients. But that's not important right now.

 

Who will never, ever get over that movie? Is it me? Could I watch that movie every day and still giggle at it? Yes. Yes, I could.

What's IMPORTANT is that I am going to write here what my editor rejected yesterday. So without any more ados, here it is.

The Perfumes I Wore in This Life, and the Memories They Bring

I KNOW! I think it's a fine idea, too. What do editors know?

Baby-soft-innocenceThe first perfume I really wore in earnest was Love's Baby Soft, which by the way I still own because I saw it at the drug store and peed myself, like how sometimes Edsel gets so happy he pees his leg. It was really just like that. If I had a tail, I'd have wagged it.

I fell for they way the advertised the shit out of Love's Baby Soft in all the hard-hitting magazines I read at the time: Teen, Young Miss, Seventeen. Basically I just read magazines that mentioned my age range. Now my magazines politely abstain from that. I read Vanity Fair and Allure and so on. They don't call themselves Old-n-Haggard, Put Away Wet or DroopAss. Although if they came out with a magazine called DroopAss, I would so check that out. Maybe I'll start my own magazine. I think I'd be good at it. And there'd be another thing I wrote that you're stuck reading.

"Is there ANY column, ANYWHERE, that doesn't use the phrase ding-dang?"

This greeting comes to you with a little bit of cheer, and a lot of ding-dang love cause you lived again this year. Happy birthday, Grandma! I love your droop ass!

Anyway.

I loved me the Love's Baby Soft. I used the spray, and the shampoo, God help us, and the powder. I must have burst into every room smelling of diaper rash. The whole thing reminds me of being 14, lip glossed to the nth degree, and convinced I looked as hot as those pedophile's dream women up there in the ads.

 

30920-gloria-vanderbilt-100ml-edt-spray

I know I've mentioned this before, that I wore Gloria Vanderbilt perfume in high school. There was a very 1980s overdone commercial that came on during General Hospital, where they said, "Gloria Vanderbilt perfume. Let it release the splendor of you." I was CONVINCED you all needed the splendor of me released, that your lives would not be COMPLETE until the splendor of me was evident for the world to smell.

Oh, HELL YES. Here it is again.

 

"Break free and feel how splendid you are." I had no trouble breaking free and feeling how splendid I was, with my 16-year-old self.

6a00e54f9367fb8834011572260684970b-800wiBy the way, here. Here was the splendor of me, in 1981. Break free. And wear a tube top.

I am sorry to tell you that I also was a woman who was ready to start something. Usually a kegger.

Tatiana-1979-ad-furstembergI got Tatiana for Christmas in 10th grade, and Christmas of 10th grade is also the first time I ever fell in love, with Giovanni Leftwich, one of my high school boyfriends. I do like to open this up and sniff it if I ever see it in a store, because I was over-the-moon smitten during that time.

Two months later, the deep love affair with Giovanni was over, but the Tatiana lingered.

1985+calvin+klein+obsession+perfume+adWhat the hell was wrong with us in the mid-80s? This ad is ridiculous. "Pull my finger. With your teeth."

I wore Obsession for YEARS. I loved it. It reminds me of college parties, and getting my perm ready for a big night out. You had to just tip the bottle on your finger, so then some naked blue man could suck on it, and I can tell you you don't want to put on your Obsession and THEN your contacts. Other way around, sister. Little tip for ya.

Ck3

I stayed true to Calvin Klein in the '90s and wore the unisex CK One, as did everyone else on Planet Earth. I remember being at this club in Seattle, the kind of club that had a mosh pit, and the entire room smelled of CK One. I still kind of like how it smells. And, in a weird coincidence, I met one of the people in this ad when I lived in LA. I will not say who, because I am subtle. Like CK One.

In the early 2000s, I went online and took this long, elaborate quiz and had this company make perfume for me. It was really fun, and they asked questions like which of these smells do you like. Place them in order. And the choices were fresh-cut grass, biscuits and honey, baby powder, a spice store. Anyway, for some inordinate amount of money, they made me my own fragrance and it was the best perfume I ever owned. I used it all up and when I went back, the website was gone.

26120484 Demeter-Sugar-Cookie-9764Then I got into Demeter fragrances for awhile. Look them up. They have all kinds of weird scents like Funeral Home and Laundry and Play-Doh. I combined Earl Grey Tea and Sugar Cookie, and I liked to think I smelled like teatime, but I probably just smelled like a lunatic. Let it release the splendor of me. This was during a time Marvin and I were happy, and we were making a good living between us, and we lived in a really cool neighborhood in a really wonderful place, and basically I was content as shit. I was convinced I had this life thing figured out. I think if I smelled those scents now I'd smile.

Patou+vintage+ad+with+hands+extended+joyWhen Marvin and I moved here to North Carolina, I had a huge stupid terrifying health scare, and Marvin's aunt sent me a bottle of Joy Perfume. She knew I'd always wanted some, because when I was about eight years old I saw an ad that it was the costliest perfume in the world, which naturally made me WANT IT MORE THAN ANYTHING.

They should study me. I think no one falls for advertising harder than me.

The point is, to cheer me after my scare, she sent me this, and it smells wonderful, and it doesn't make my throat close up like most perfumes. I still have it and it hasn't turned. I try to save it for special occasions.

322481_10150297424575369_19614945368_8026264_1284277_oI know. She bugs the CRAP out of me, too. But dammit, her perfume smells wonderful. I have a couple bottles of perfume that I rotate right now: a vanilla bourbon, the Joy, some carmel stuff Ned got me last year. But every time I whip out Taylor Swift, Ned says, "Wow, you smell really good" and I tell him it's Taylor Swift again and he says, "SONOFABITCH, really?" We cannot help it. Taylor Swift. Her scent is a siren song.

So there it is. I don't know why MY EDITOR balked at this topic, because you know you stayed riveted to the very end.

For all. For ever.

June

The traditional year-two gift is a sparkly squirrel

In case you were worried that I up and died like Mr. Bojangles' dog, first of all let me give you a hand off the Drama Express, and also let me fill you in on my weekend of working and Ned-ing.

IMG_2721On Friday, I went to Sephora with Faithful Reader and Friend in Real Life Laura, who has stalked me over to my job. We now work in the same place. Aaaaand we work about five minutes from a Sephora. You do the math.

IMG_2723Look at these nail polish colors. I love Gene Pool. Did I ever tell you when I was a church secretary we had a Gene Poole on the prayer list and I was the only person who found that hilarious?

IMG_2722Here's me right before I tried the Instantly Ageless kit.

6a00e54f9367fb8834017ee9af77cf970d-800wi-1And after. That's Chris and Lilly's baby. She is older now. She is somewhere between 10 months and 14 years old now. However, there will never be another picture of her that tickles me more. ant joon blawg suk. Yes, she DOES talk like a pet. What do you want from me?

Anyway, that was an exciting way to start my weekend, but then all of Friday night I work work worked on freelance stuff, then I got up Saturday and work work worked, is what I did.

On Saturday night, I went to a performance of sorts with a girl from work. It was a series of sketches done by gay men about being gay, and there was much glitter and blue eye shadow and funny gay jokes, so you can imagine. Unfortunately, no one saw me in the crowd and said, "You MUST be a drag queen! It's IN you, I can TELL!" No one recognizes my inner queen.

IMG_2747Then yesterday was my dating anniversary with the best boy ever invented, Ned.

We exchanged Christmas gifts yesterday, because we were broke in December. I failed to tell you how a large bug crawled into my heating conductor thing outside, set himself on fire and burned out my entire, you know, heat system. I had to have the hot guy from the AC place come back, and it was around $800 to fix. Those who already HAD a gift from me at Christmas got those gifts. Everyone else was out of luck.

My POINT is, I got my sparkly squirrel.

IMG_2732Have you noticed how Ned is getting better at the posing since he met me? The first year was me sneaking shots of him while he looked at menus. Now he's all, HELLO! HERE'S THE SQUIRREL!

I sent a Christmas list to my mother and Ned, and this was on it, and while everything else had a title and a link, this had SPARKLY SQUIRREL!!!!! My mother wrote me. "I'm not getting you that awful squirrel." But I knew Ned would. I knew he'd come through. I LOVE THAT SQUIRREL! He has a silver glitter acorn!!

!!!

Ned also got me a Nora Ephron collection AND a book on Princess Diana, because who knows me well? And the best part?

IMG_2736Ned put a ring on it. Okay, get off Drama Express again. I mean he bought me a ring, and it is so pretty. He knew I liked vintage rings, so he had to FIND a vintage store, and he went to one place called Vintage Jewelry and they had no vintage rings. Which is…confusing. And yes, I DO still have my balloons up from New Year's. Sue me.

He finally found a place ("Where'd you sneak all this activity IN?" I asked him) and found the ring above, then panicked because he realized he didn't know my ring size. So he waited and next time he was at my house, he hurriedly tried on a bunch of my rings. What if I'd have caught him? My boyfriend, the jewelry cross-dresser.

So then he knew how far down HIS finger all my rings fit, and he went back to the place and this ring fits perfectly. Ned told me he's never bought a ring for a woman before, so to me it's extra-special. Because clearly I bury all other women. And that's what matters, here.

Anyway, I am now late for work and would love to give you more details, but suffice it to say we had a good time. We went back to where we had our first date, and two heifers were in our original spot. Those bitches stayed there the whole time we were there, too. Oh, I was irked. They must have been 78 years old each, so cockpunching them was out of the question.

I think what Ned must like about me is how I'm a good person through and through.

Okay, I'm out. I just have time to smile at sparkly squirrel before I head to work.

Aw, nuts,

June

Cut soap

Faithful Reader Karla wrote me at one o'clock this morning to say every year, on the third of June, she and her friend call each other to say, "It's the third of June, another sleepy dusty Delta day."

I know we need to get over Billy Jo McAllister jumping off the Tallahatchie Briiiidge, but come on. That.is.hilarious.

No one ever calls me to ask if I remember the 21st night of September, but didn't I just MAKE a 21st night of September reference the other day? I guess I can call myself and make that joke. And no one calls me on April 4 to say shots rang out in the Memphis sky, but that's really kind of a sad song. What's Bono doing getting all caught up in which Americans shoot each other, anyway? Doesn't he have potatoes to worry about?

The last time I referred to the Potato Famine, some Irish person wrote me a SCATHING comment about it. The Irish. They are not over that famine yet. They're low on carbs. The Irish are a bit of a broody lot in general. Look at that Colin Farrell.

Colin-Farrell-9542604-1-402He always looks like he's one bad event from a serious brood. "Aye, I'm so sad. Mebbe I'll get another ear pierced, laddy."

Did you enjoy my Irish accent? Did you? Did you like how I made him say "aye," like that's a thing the Irish just say all the time? Does anyone recall how for awhile I had a reader and commenter from Ireland, and I sent her the Irish Spring commercial? She never commented after that.

Aye.

Here's kind of a gay erotica Irish Spring commercial. And what convincing accents! They couldn't spring (bah!) for some real Irish actors? Where was Colin Farrell?

My favorite part has always been when they cut the soap. Like that's something you do along with saying "Aye."

Once when I was a kid, I was having some kind of fit, and I know that's hard to believe. I was being moody, like Colin Farrell. Geez, I hope his people don't find this stupid post, I've mentioned him so much today. Hi, Colin Farrell! I know I made that crack about your looking-like-Wilona-on-Good-Times-with-those-hoop-earrings self, but you could still call me.

My POINT is, I was having some kind of fit, and my mother was fed up. "Now you stop that crying," she commanded, "and get in the bathroom and wash your face with hot soap and water."

I stopped crying immediately. "Hot soap?"

Guess who must have been a laugh riot to raise.

I have to go to work now, and I've said precisely nothing in this post, and I can't even remember what I was GONNA talk about. I'm certain it was important.

Manly, yes, but I like it too,

June

A long December. An even longer post.

While I’d love to stay and talk about Billie Joe McAllister some more, I thought I’d finally recap for you what I did in December, which was celebrate Christmas and so on. Which I hate. Christmas, I mean. And now I am sharing my time with a man who similarly hates Christmas, so the holiday is extra-sweet.

In early December, my sprained ankle was still RIDICULOUS, and poor beleaguered Ned came over and raked my damn leaves for me, which took eleven hundred hours, and I’m not THAT good in bed, so I don’t know why I deserve someone as nice as Ned.

IMG_2390Have you ever tried getting around on crutches? It’s fun, is what it is. And not at all tiring for your upper body. The first Friday in December we have our monthly First Friday events downtown, but they’re EXTRA special in December. They have fake snow blowing hither and yon, and carolers, and they light this big tree. Ned and I go to First Friday a lot as it is, but since it was the special Christmas one, people emailed and called and texted me. Or, text me. You know how I enjoy it when people say it like that.

Friend: “Hey, you going to the Christmas First Friday?”

Me: “Well, heh, the thing is, I have a sprained ankle, remember, so I can’t walk around.”

Friend: “Oh, right.”

Ten minutes later.

Another friend: “Hey, June! We’re going to First Friday! Wanna meet us 750 blocks from Ned’s place?”

Me: “Yeah. See. Everyone keeps forgetting I’ve SPRAINED MY ANKLE, so there will be no walking around for me. Is the thing.”

Five minutes later.

Another friend: “Say, June! We’re gonna walk all over yonder at the First Friday! We better see you!”

Me: …….!!!

By the time one of my friends left a message saying he KNEW I had a sprained ankle, so why didn’t he pick me up and then we could walk around downtown, I set my entire body on fire and then told EVERYONE I’d be at the restaurant two crutch-walks from Ned’s front door, and I’d sit there all night and everyone could join us whenever.

IMG_2400(Fortunately, my ridiculous friend Kit’s vintage store is similarly two crutch-walks from Ned’s place, so I did not miss her fine getup.)

And you know everyone did? I just sat there with my crutches and held court, and that’s how I should do First Friday EVERY month. Screw that healthy walking-around thing.

IMG_2384This picture doesn’t have anything to do with anything, I just took it in December and like Edsel’s goofy smile. He is happy because he has no thought in his head whatsoever.

IMG_2392My coworker left these on his desk and they never entertained me once. He should ask for his money back.

IMG_2399My coworkers asked if I wanted to go downtown one day for lunch, and park and walk 750 miles to the restaurant, and guess who was not at all a diva who made everyone think of nothing but her ankle the whole time she was laid up? I know you’re sad I wasn’t blogging during this time, because what would I have brought up once or twice, do you think? Anyway, they dropped me at the door of the restaurant, which was in the lobby of a high rise, and I posed in front of this scene like I like Christmas.

IMG_2409No sooner did poor Ned rake my damn leaves when he had to come right back and hang my balls. I have these chicken-wire-and-Christmas-lights balls I hang, and it’s not easy, but Ned was out there in the cold for 49 hours. Did I mention I’m not that good in bed?

IMG_2413Ned is a prince among men. And if you ask me, he’s darn cute, too.

IMG_2421Yay, balls.

IMG_2422Yay, pretending I like Christmas. I like how Edsel contorts himself to get his fur and man bits on the couch as much as possible. lu neber considur that posishun. cannot wate to spred dog vadge on other arm.

IMG_2435wat lu eber to do yuu, mom? she was kid about dog vadge.

IMG_2446 IMG_2448IMG_2452For months, we all dwelled in a huge room at work while they did construction on our regular space. We were at these long tables, and at first we all tried to be quiet and not bug each other. But by month three, I have to tell you, we all bonded in a way we never would have back when we were in cubicle world. Someone brought his guitar one day because he was performing in his kid’s Christmas pageant, and everyone who could play guitar took turns belting out the songs. We were all kind of sad when we went back to our regularly scheduled offices.

IMG_2454December was also mammogram month for me, which meant it was Annual Mammogram Freakout Week. So poor Ned had to tolerate my fear and anxiety and fear and irrational fear and anxiety and obsessiveness and then everything was fine.

Sometimes I wish Ned and Marvin could be friends, so he could call Marvin and say, “What the hell are you supposed to do with her during Mammogram Freakout Week, anyway?”

I had the extra super 3D mammography this year, which of course convinced me they’d find something sinister that’d been hiding away. They did not. Tune in next year for Mammogram Freakout Week. It’s fun. Maybe I can also mention my sprained ankle.

IMG_2459Ned and me celebrating on Mammogram Came Out Okay Night.

IMG_2464We got back to our newly constructed space right on time for the Ugly Sweater Party at work, and here’s the Other Copyeditor and me in our matching garb, making our copyediting gang sign we invented. It’s a carat, see, which is a proofreading symbol that–oh, forget it. It’s a copyediting thang. You wouldn’t understand.

IMG_2468I was so proud of everyone for their breathtakingly horrible contributions. This party was my idea three Xmases ago, and we’re keeping the tradition alive.

IMG_2473And how.

IMG_2528Ned’s one nod to Christmas, other than the wreath his mom got him that he dutifully puts on his door.

Speaking of Ned and his mom, they came to my house for Christmas dinner. Ned and I split the menu, and we made turkey and dressing (his mom made that, and it.was.delicious) and sweet potatoes and mashed potatoes (yes, both were necessary) and asparagus and a salad (whose idea was that, do you think?) and apple crisp that my mother made, because did I mention my mother and stepfather were there, too?

IMG_2536Here’s mom, giving one of 9494939492942 treats to my dogs over the course of her visit. She was just like how my grandmother was with me, with the giving of the treats. Normally the dogs can only have organic granola. Wait. That was my childhood.

IMG_2537Edsel was banned while cooking was done, and note how I was making dinner but there’s everyone else doing all the work. Hmm. You know, my ankle was still super weak.

IMG_2544This must have been Christmas morning, due to my Christmas pajamas, and I do not know what treat my mother is making me give those dogs, but what I DO appreciate is how Edsel has clearly dug a towel out the laundry to munch on while he’s banned.

IMG_2548My stepfather either felt sorry for the dogs or he’s wanting to get the hell away from me. Or both!

IMG_2561Here’s a nice dinner-is-over-but-Ned-wants-MORE-dessert shot. My stepfather is over there with his diet root beer. This is a new thing with him, this addiction to diet root beer. The first thing he did off the plane was stampede to the diet root beer store. He was never without one. He’s the Hunter S. Thompson of diet root beer.

IMG_2559This dinner would have been a lot more satisfying with a little diet root beer.

And what the…? I HAVE really pretty salt and pepper shakers. Who put the horrid salt container out? Honestly, you guys.

IMG_2564Ned’s cute mom got me one of those mirrors that lights up and magnifies you 900 times. Honestly I would like to do NOTHING ELSE but use it all the time. This thing is wonderful, as long as you can get past the part where apparently you have a goatee.

IMG_2568Ned and his mom got each other the same book. How cute is that?

IMG_2565Who d’ya think might be 100% over my dogs?

IMG_2576I hate this bloaty picture of me, where I’ve been pulled from the river to celebrate Christmas, but it’s the only one of Ned and me I have from that day. We’re all on our way to the movies, where we saw…oh, hell. What did we see? Anyone? Ned? Mom?

IMG_2579krismiss. it exaust.

IMG_2582Oh, I forgot! I DO have one of us where I’m less bloaty. Last year, Ned and I went to his mom’s for Christmas, and she lives at the beach, so afterward we drove back to Greensboro and tried the pub near his house and sure enough it was open. Because apparently a lot of people need to get their drink on on Christmas day. Anyway now we’ve decided to make it a tradition, going there, so after our parents went to bed, we went there and celebrated, just the two of us.

Well, and the 50 other drunks who were there, too.

On Christmas Eve, we all went over to the hotel where my stepfather and mother were staying, and the bar there was PACKED. Is everyone George Bailey and Mr. Welch?

IMG_2585wat yooo bring nedkittee?

IMG_2595Fortunately, that brings us to New Year’s Eve, which is where we started this blog back up, and I’ll bet you’re glad December is over. Orange you glad it’s done?

Talk at you tomorrow. Pass the biscuits, please.

Ode

The open floor plan they've implemented at work has indeed fostered important conversations. "What exactly DID Billie Joe and his girlfriend throw off the Tallahatchie Bridge?" my boss asked.

"I always figured it was a baby," I said.

"A BABY? Why? I figured it was flowers," said my boss, as he unceremoniously ripped a whole sentence out of the document he was editing.

"No, no, NO. Flowers are what she threw off afterward, as kind of an offering to Billie Joe and her river baby," I said.

"Why does it have to be something as dramatic as a baby?" he asked, thinking I was being a girl.

"Well, why else did she lose her appetite? Her mom cooked all morning and she hadn't touched a single bite."

"Because her BOYfriend is DEAD," said my boss, rising to look at the lyrics I'd Googled.

Ned emailed me right then. "How's your day going, sweetie?" he wrote.

"Well, we're having a pertinent discussion about what Billie Joe threw off the Tallahatchie Bridge," I wrote back. "What do YOU think?"

"I dunno. Rocks?" Ned offered.

I don't understand why everyone doesn't understand this song. If they were throwing ROCKS or FLOWERS off the bridge, they wouldn't have added the haunting part about how somebody saw a girl who looked like our narrator and Billie Joe McAllister, who never had a lick of sense, throwing something off the Tallahatchie Bridge. It had to have been something IMPORTANT.

"Hey, did you guys know they made a movie of this?" asked my coworker, showing us his phone.

A70-9246

"What the song didn't tell you, the movie will," he said.

"I know what WE'RE doing Friday night!" I wrote to Ned. "And it stars Robby Benson!"

RobbieBenson"Seriously? You honestly believe I haven't seen that movie a hundred million times, along with the rest of America? Robbie Benson's Billie Jo McAllister jumps off the Tallahatchie Bridge due to the guilt he feels for some drunken homosexual encounter," Ned told me.

Hunh. Really? I've never HEARD of this movie, and now it turns out Ned knows it by heart like he does The Big Lebowski. Who knew?

So, ignoring the stupid plot of the 1978 movie, what do YOU think they threw off that bridge? Also, can you try to work the line, "And now Billie Joe McAllister's jumped off the Tallahatchie Briiiiidge" into a conversation today? And try to say "Tallahatchie Bridge" as low as you can. Report back to me.

And before I go, I'm happy to report that if you Google "Ode to," "Joy" still beats "Billie Joe."

Flap

Yesterday's comments were riveting.

I have nothing interesting to ask you today, and I am sorry. I know I still need to tell you about my long December, but telling you about my months that I wasn't here requires me to look at all my photos and download them onto my desktop and then upload them onto here, and let me tell you what a speedy job Typepad does with uploading your photos. Here's what happens when you upload photos onto this site:

Time-watch-waiting1

Impatience Slow_internetIt takes awhile, if you're picking up what I'm throwing down.

So I'll do that on a different day, when I have time. In the meantime, tonight Ned and I are going to the old theater we like to go to, where everybody knows our name, to see The Birds. Which of course makes me think of my old neighbor, Rik. "Ohhhh, da birds."

See that green building behind idiot Rik? That's my old apartment, and where he squatted and pretty much killed my poor landlord with neglect. Oh, how I abhor Rik. Oh, how I miss my old neighborhood.

Rik is super-sane. And not at all annoying. I noticed he is listing my dead old landlord as his acting manager now.

"This is a very powerful lawsuit." Oy. ANYWAY, Ned and I are going to see The Birds, and I will try NOT to think of Rik. I suggested we go out for wings first, and I just had a plaque engraved.

For June, who loved herself.

This Sunday is my two-year anniversary of dating Ned, although in my opinion our two-year anniversary should be the day we started writing (January 5th), because we both knew we liked each other as soon as we wrote. But Ned says it doesn't count till we officially saw each other, and I don't know why Ned gets to make up all the rules.

We didn't exchange Christmas gifts last month, Ned and I didn't, because we both were broke, so we decided to have Christmas on January 19th, our anniversary. I have Ned's gifts all ready, and am very excited to give them to him. Now if I could just NOT FALL between now and then and stay among the living.

The only other news I have is that I am -$173 in the bank, and hey, how's that fiscal responsibility going? Oh, it burns me up. I knew I was going to run low in checking, and I HAD ENOUGH in savings to cover everything, and I kept saying to myself, I have to get online and transfer some savings over just in case. But I used my ATM card at the grocery store to get Metamucil for the dogs (did I tell you about that?) and the card went through, so I thought, okay, everything is still fine.

It turns out, the bank automatically gives you this stupid overdraft protection, so they KEEP LETTING charges go through, but they charge you $36 A TRANSACTION. So that $11 Metamucil cost $47. Checks went though, $36. I paid for popcorn at the movies, plus $36. I HATE THE BANK.

I called and begged for their mercy but they would not budge. Banks ought to be ashamed of themselves.

Maybe I should sue them. This is a very powerful lawsuit. What the hell does he even MEAN by that? How is a lawsuit more powerful than another? Oh, he bugs. Now thanks to YouTube, he can bug me from afar.

Okay, I must get to work, so I can do worky things and then go to The Birds. I have a large day ahead of me.

On the wings of love,

June

Your Cheatin’ Heart

Guess who stayed out too late, going to Charlie's fundraiser and all?

1551633_10152140679073850_624877605_nCould it be philanthropists Ned and June? Do you count as philanthropists when all you did was buy tickets, buy drinks, buy one of the tshirts and silently auction? I won the facial, though, so wooooo! With my luck it'll be the new penicillin-and-grapefruit facials they have now. A jazz facial. We now offer cilantro facials!

Okay, I'm done. Facial given to you by Gwynneth Paltrow!

The story made front-page news, and I saw some of you donated, and thank you. I don't know what the tally is yet, but when I hear I will alert you.

So, as per usual I am now late, but I have a philosophical question for you, because you know how I am one of those deep, quiet, thoughtful types.

This guy lived next door to Ned for awhile. Let's call him Jehosephat. Because that's a name you just get sick of hearing. Jehosephat worked with me in my department. So I'd see him and his (hot) wife and kids, lounging outside their apartment, drinking wine while dinner cooked (the KIDS weren't drinking. Put down the phone. Social Services doesn't need your call today, Nancy Grace) and then also at work, and I like him a lot. They seem like the kind of people who make their lives beautiful, you know what I mean? They're from another country, and maybe it's one of those countries where you eat dinner for 10 hours and savor everything, as opposed to this country where we stand up over the sink and eat our Kashi burrito as quickly as possible so we can get back to Internet porn.

My point is, I'd see Jehosephat at work and at Ned's, and we've always had pleasant talks and always threaten to get together and we never do. Eventually Jehosephat and his family moved into a house.

Recently, I asked Ned, "What if, when Jehosephat was living at your building, he saw you one night, clearly cheating on me. I wonder if he would have told me?"

Ned mulled this over. He considered which woman he'd cheat with, and what they'd do, and how many times, and he seemed delighted. Okay, none of that happened but now I'm mad at Ned. My POINT is, he said, "I think he'd tell you. He's your work friend. And besides, he has a wife, so he'd be appalled that I did such a thing."

I said, "No. He'd NEVER tell me. He wouldn't want the drama, both at work and at home. Every time you saw him, Mr. Cheaty Pants, you'd glare at him, and I'd be at work weeping and pulling him into the kitchen to ask more questions about this heifer you slept with."

It became one of those discussions we'd revisit, neither of us wavering from our opinion. One day I just couldn't stand it and went over to Jehosephat's desk. I presented him with the scenario. Some 23-year-old drunk floozie with HUMONGOUS breasts. No. I have humongous breasts, so let's give her something I don't have. A 23-year-old floozie with silky hair and buttocks you could bounce quarters off of. Because that's useful.

Jehosephat blinked at me several times. He'd probably been, you know, concentrating on work and all of a sudden his former next-door neighbor has brought home Scarlett Johanssen and he has to decide whether to tell me.

"First of all, I'd give him the benefit of the doubt," Jehosephat said. And could I have picked a harder name to type? "I'd assume she was a sister or something."

"Okay, but let's say they're clearly kissing or something," I offered, because I am fun to work with.

"No, I'd never volunteer that information," he said, which made me right, and then much later made me think, wow, should I have asked him if he ever saw Ned bringing home a lovely young thing who was good at math and directions? But I trust Ned. Ned is a good egg. And I'd like to see him have to deal with what would become a smitten 23-year-old girl following him around and sending him Boynton cards.

My deep question for you is, what would you do if you were Jehosephat and you saw Ned cheating? Or, you know, whatever. Apply the scenario to your own life. Would you tell? What if you saw someone cheating on a really good friend? I had a roommate in college who had this new girlfriend, and I knew for a fact she was cheating, so I told him, and now he and I are not friends and he's married to said woman.

Still, I felt I had to tell him, because he's my friend. That was the chance I took.

So, what say you?

My pal Chas

Today I'm going to a fundraiser for my friend Charlie, who fell in a stupid freak accident in August 2012 and is now paralyzed.

Screen Shot 2014-01-12 at 2.08.43 PMHere he is a few years back when he thought orange hair might be an idea. Dear Charlie: It was not.

Anyway, he needs a van so he can get out and about. As it is now, it costs him TONS of money to even go get coffee or to a movie, because a van has to come get him. So we're doing our best to get him his own.

My phone is completely broken, so I can't take pictures. When I have time I will complain to you about it in full detail. Because that's what I do. I attend the fundraiser of a 30-year-old paralyzed person and think about how my smartphone doesn't work. I am a fabulous person.

I know some of you have been reading for awhile and got kind of attached to Charlie, as everyone does who knows him, so here's how to donate if you wish. Talk at you tomorrow!

P.S. My knee still hurts. Because I'm the kind of person who goes to a fundraiser for her 30-year-old paralyzed friend and complains about her knee. Did I mention I am a fabulous person?

Legend of the Fall

You aren't even going to believe what freaking happened to me today.

"NedKitty has a vet appointment first thing Saturday," Ned told me, not remotely using the name "NedKitty" because it's the dumbest name on earth. However, he HAS told me stunning tales of NedKitty's growly anger when she has to go to the vet.

"Ooo, I wanna go," I said, because I love me the drama. So today, in the midst of an early morning thunderstorm, Ned and I got NedKitty into her carrier.

Does anyone remember my evil cat Francis? Do you? In case you weren't here, Francis had been feral, and I decided a good idea would be to tame him and bring him home, "tame" being a subjective term. After the first year, he was literally banned from the vet. Banned. Every guest at my house who ignored my warnings to not touch Francis went home with a nub, or a ripped artery.

NedKitty? Going into that carrier? Would have been a formidable opponent to Fran. Oh, she twisted and furled and stuck out all her pointy parts and snarled and wriggled and ordered in more pointy parts and dug them into Ned and carried on and picketed and smashed her fist through the wall and formed a kitty Tea Party and generally got very annoyed.

After an hour and a half and a blood transfusion to Ned, the cat was in the carrier. And happy? My.

While Ned applied tournaquets to his open wounds and cleaned what looked like a murder scene, I grabbed the carrier and headed for the door. That cat is 13 and a half, and she only weighs 10 pounds. Carrying her was nothing. All my cats weigh 450 pounds apiece. I'm used to a sturdy cat. Plus I put small cannonballs on their collars for identification.

I know that made zero sense. I'm INJURED. I'm under the influence of ADVIL. Which I will get to.

Ned had a stool sample to take to the vet–not his own but NedKitty's. He also had a bag of general cat litter he was taking to the trash. We STUPIDLY took the stairs to the ground floor, which we haven't been doing on account of my ankle, which is still weak. We've been taking his fast, efficient elevator. Man, that thing moves like the wind.

At the bottom of the stairs, Ned said, "You take the keys and get you and the cat out of this rain. I'll throw out the litter and meet you over at the car."

No sooner did he disappear to the bin at his apartment that reads "Kitty Litter Disposal Container," a sign I photographed and put up as Hulk's ID photo when he calls:

IMG_2398(God, I adore myself).

Anyway, no sooner did Ned disappear to the kitty litter container when I stepped off the curb into the parking lot and

BOOM!

all of a sudden I was splayed out all over the pavement, right into a huge puddle. I don't know if I'd not lifted my weak ankle properly, or if I slipped on wet cement, or if I have MS or WHAT. All I know is BOOM.

My hurt ankle began hurting again in earnest, and my knee on the other leg, which had lost its old bruise but had still been hurting? Began THROBBING LIKE A MO'.

And then I realized I'd dropped the cat carrier.

"OH MY GOD! NEDKITTY!" The carrier was upside-down. I felt sick. If I murdered Ned's cat, he was so dumping my ass. "ARE YOU OKAY, NEDKITTY?" I started to cry.

There was NedKitty, upside-down in the carrier, glaring at me like an annoyed white bat. I was gathering my things and righting the carrier when a man came up. "I just fell in the rain!" I said to him, standing up.

He looked right at me and kept walking. HE KEPT WALKING! A woman has fallen in your parking lot, with a cat in her hand, and you don't even STOP? What kind of asshole DOES that? Was he DEAF? Did he think I was a CRAZY person? (D0n't answer that. You forget I had rain hair on top of everything else.) The point is, seconds later Ned saw us and got us to the car, and he was both concerned about me and, frankly, kind of mad I dropped his cat. Look. I didn't try to kill his cat on PURPOSE. I clearly have a tumor or something that makes me fall constantly.

"You don't have a tumor," said Ned darkly.

We got to the vet and told her what had happened, and could she please check the cat for any injury. I'd been crying the whole time, and the vet brought me a bag of ice, and in the last two months I've had more bags of ice brought to me than in the rest of my life combined.

The vet said NedKitty looked fine all over, and that the only thing she saw was "some dried blood on her side. It's not COMING from her, though, I don't think," she said. I gasped, nauseated, and then remembered Ned's many wounds. "The blood is from YOU," I reminded him, and he showed the vet his stigmata.

On the drive back, I apologized to Ned for dropping his cat, and he apologized for being upset. He said he was worried about both of us and didn't handle it very well. But really, who DOES handle a hysterical girlfriend who falls over all the time because she has the Dropsys (is that a disease? It sounds like a disease) and turns his cat upside-down? I looked back to see how NedKitty was doing, and

IMG_2710
"Oh my god. Did you buckle the cat carrier in?"

"Yeah, I always do. What if I got in an accident?"

Can you see how dumped I'da been if I'd hurt that cat?

We got back home and I was certain NedKitty would be 100% over me, but in fact as soon as she was let out of that prison, her personal Folsom Prison, (Those people keep a-trippin', and that's what TORTURES ME) she was just fine, and let me pet her, and seems no worse for the wear. If I were her, I'd have held my paw up dramatically to garner treats, but maybe that's just me.

In the meantime, I'm back in a brace and my knee looks ridiculous AND my phone is acting weird. I think I…jarred it somehow in the fall. I called Marvin, who is good at phone and computer things, to get his opinion. "You fell again?" he asked. "What, do you have Parkinson's or something? What is WRONG with you?" And see? This is why that marriage did not work out. He mirrors my own terrible thoughts.

So there you go. There was today. It lowered the boom on me.

June, hating this day, and out.

Sweet November

Did you ever see that depressing movie, Sweet November, with Sandy Dennis looking annoyingly perky despite the fact that she is dying? I just ruined the movie for you, and you're welcome. You've had 40 years to see it, so it's not my fault.

I watched it on November 1 in 2012, and the whole movie is about how Sandy Dennis dates one man each month. I'd had my first date with the Tall Boy that day, and ended up dating him just for a month. Fortunately, I was not dying. Nor was I Sandy Dennis, also fortunately. Sandy Dennis grates.

Anyway, as promised, because I'm SUPER RELIABLE, here's what I did in November while I was not blogging and you were sobbing into your giant pillow.

Photo on 1-8-14 at 7.21 PM #4Crap. The wrong photo uploaded, but I WOULD like to introduce you to my new sparkly cell phone case. ISN'T IT LOVELY? Ten dollars! I don't mean that'll be $10 to look at my case, although I should have charged admission, so lovely is it.

IMG_2340GOD. Here. Apparently I must have cleaned the house, because my annoying Martha Stewart book was out. Like that heifer ever holds a cleaning agent herself.

IMG_2329I went to a poetry reading or a meet-the-author or some such thing downtown with my pal Jo in November. I should have just said I went downtown with my friend Jo in order to get the traffic from searches from pervs.

I got there early so what was I to do but pop into my friend Kit's vintage store?

IMG_2331Where I found these, and slapped them on right over my tights. I was in love in the way that makes you shaky. Like the first time I saw Tallulah.

IMG_2330"What am I to do? I love the shoes. I must have the shoes. I should not buy the shoes. I MUST HAVE THE SHOES!!!"

IMG_2333Here's the next night, at Ned's, where I took 9494593939 photos of my shoes.

IMG_2336For reals.

I have failed to mention to you that my health has been poor, I've been feeling poorly, since September. I think the construction at work did not help, with the dust and the glue and the PAINT, but I started to get migraines almost every day for awhile, there. The day after the fair in October? I had the WORST MIGRAINE EVER. I even had to go to the ER and Ned sat there with me, helpless.

I finally got a series of shots and more steroids and a new prescription and finally the daily migraines stopped after six fun weeks. The very day I felt better, I also felt a cold coming on.

Dudes.

IMG_2345That cold was RIDICULOUS. In fact, I think it was the flu. I say this because of the part where all I could do was fall into a dead, sweaty sleep and wake up like a toddler with my hair in damp curls on my forehead. Then Ned caught it and he missed three days of work. Oh, we were pretty.

IMG_2343
To make matters worse, a woman I know had been diagnosed with gall bladder cancer, and I went to the Chinese place to get hot and sour soup and I saw her husband. He told me she was in hospice, and I had no idea things were that bad. I called my friend, and she said DO NOT COME HERE WITH THAT COLD, so I did not, but I promised to make her family macaroni and cheese, NOT KRAFT but a real recipe.

Dudes, that cold or whatever it was TOOK FOREVER, and 10 days later I finally rallied. The day–THE VERY DAY–I started to feel human again, I said, "I'll go for a run, then go to the store and get the macaroni and cheese stuff for my friend."

I know I blogged at you in November, when I came back here and blogged that one time, that I was training for a half-marathon.

IMG_2325

I was excited to get back out and run again, as my training had been going well, and Edsel liked running with me. I'd been taking turns with the dogs, but one day I put the leash on Lu, and she was all smell lu, edzul and Edsel was all fit to be tied, and you think I'm anthropomorphizing these dogs but I'm telling you it was a competition, who got to go with me. Anyway on that day we got out to the driveway and Lu was all, let do dis and she had one foot up like a flamingo. I picked up the dangling foot and she said EEEEEEEEEEEE! and I knew she'd stepped on something dumb in the back yard as she sometimes does.

"Lu, you can't run with me. You hurt your foot." But she was all, yes lu can, and trying to pull for forward with three feets. Poor Lu. So anyway, on the day I was finally getting well again I took Eds.

Forunately, on that day, the Tall Boy was over, too. He was headed to his girlfriend's house, but I left before he did as he was in the middle of something or other. I think he was fixing my window. Hoo care. The point is, it was a beautiful night, and my run was going great, and it started to get dark so I jumped onto the sidewalk.

That was a mistake.

Because it all happened so fast that I actually don't KNOW what happened, but as far as I can tell, I hit the unevenness of pavement and where grass starts. All I know for sure, as Oprah would say, is

BOOM

I hit the ground so hard and so fast it was like I'd been pushed. All of a sudden I was on a lawn, splayed out there like a tipped-over yard sign. If I were a yard sign, what would I be? Maybe one of those warnings not to break in because there's an alarm inside, which you always know is bullshit.

The point is, I was stunned, then OH MY GOD in pain. The pain. THE PAIN!!!

I'd let go of Edsel's leash, but there he was, hovering over me as he is wont to do. "It's okay, Edsel," said to him, although I was way scareder than he was. I tried to use him to help myself up but no.  There was no getting up, and there's just no getting over you.

Thank GOD I knew the Tall Boy was still at my house, because Ned was in bed with the very cold I'd just gotten over, and he would have had to schlep over anyway. But the TB drove the few blocks to where I was, and literally had to lift me into the car.

So, I had a sprained ankle and a bruise the size of my head on the other knee, and my wrists were strained. In general it was a good time. And my ankle is STILL NOT RIGHT. Yes, I've had it xrayed. Anyway, you know those inspirational stories where people get up and run again?

Not me. I am an inspiration to no one. Will never run again. And my friend never got her mac and cheese because I am horrible.

IMG_2354Here was most of my November, and I specifically picked an ungory shot of my foot. I was pretty bad, though, trust me.

This injury ended up meaning that Ned and I weren't able to go to Michigan for Thanksgiving as we'd planned. My foot was supposed to stay elevated, and 13 hours in the car NOT elevating it was bad, PLUS the weather was going to be dreadful the entire drive.

IMG_2375So we made reservations at one of the fancy hotels here, and had dinner and went to that nice lesbian movie I told you about, and had several days off together and really it was one of the best Thanksgivings we've ever had. It was great! The only drawback was, no leftovers. But considering all the exercise I could do at that time was crutch to the car and back, that might have been a good thing. As Martha Stewart would say.

Aaaaand we've come full circle. The circle of life.

Boom.