Last night, Ned and I went to see Girls, Girls, Girls at the old theater we like. Mostly it was about how a slutty woman with dumb hair and a butterface both liked Elvis. You know what a butterface is, right? Where someone has a lovely figure, but her face! Dear Feminist Mom: Yeah, I… Continue reading Girls, Tramps, Butterfaces
I'd been taking pictures of Ned last night, after dinner, and he hated them all and said not to use them here, so while he was out of the room I snapped this one of myself, then commenced to abhorring my own self, and maybe my camera was set to Unflattering or something last night.… Continue reading “I HAVE SPOKEN!”
Yesterday was a momentous day, and you might want to mark your calendars: I got Ned to eat dinner at Taco Bell. I have brought Ned over to my dark side. You know how I told you I had scream therapy and a movie on Monday? That afternoon, I was killing my own self to… Continue reading Yo quiero Ned, and kiss Angie
I'm related to people who have an addiction to alcohol. I will not name names, although I suppose one of my grandfathers wouldn't have minded me telling you that he did, seeing as he was in AA for most of his life, really. I never saw him drunk; he was the best grandfather you could… Continue reading We go together like a drink and a smile
I am going to have a ridiculous day, in which I will be running from one thing to the next till 9:00 p.m., and then? I have to come home and write a Purple Clover article. So I thought maybe I'd try to start that article this morning before I get to work. Go read… Continue reading The Burrito Vanishes
Did you miss me? Have you been holding a vigil? Did I ever tell you about when my friend Dot and I went to see Snow White? This was in college, when we were not at all full of ourselves or anything. This woman behind us had the nerve to bring her kids there, god,… Continue reading Beaches. But not in a Barbara Hershey’s dead kinda way.
We are headed to the beach for the week, and it's been my experience that Typepad no longer lets me email in a post, and THANKS, Typepad. So you'll have to be Juneless this week. Try to carry on. My wayward son. Have I mentioned Ima stop being funny? Hashtag goals. we see you in… Continue reading Life’s a beach. HAHAHAHAHA Wooo! Hah! …heh.
"You can't just turn FIFTY and not CELEBRATE it!" screeched one of the Alexes a few weeks ago. I was really kind of depressed about turning old, and for once did not wanna do much of anything. "We're going for drinks that Friday after your birthday," she said, because bossy. "Well, let's just have it… Continue reading Elvis Jesus. And party every day.
Just to catch you up, it was my 50th birthday yesterday. I KNOW. I hardly mentioned it. Please note the earrings my Aunt Mary gave me, and the necklace Ned gave me. I was shiny yesterday. Cankle alert. I also wore my shiny shoes to work, because screw it. I like how I have 72… Continue reading Am I still 50? I was kind of hoping it was a one-day thing. Like a virus.
Say, does anyone have the time? Oh, wait. I do. IT'S TIME FOR ME TO BE 50. Shit. Last night, Ned said we could go anywhere we wanted for dinner, as it was my birthday eve. "Stameys!" I said. It's a dive-y kind of barbecue place that is delicious. "...Really?" said Ned, and I knew… Continue reading June, 5.0. Give or take a decimal.
I woke up early today, on my last day of being 40. This was because I pretty much went to bed at 7:30. I'd have gone earlier had that not looked pathetic. On Tuesday nights, this sadist comes to my workplace and teaches a class where we lift weights and squat and eventually have visions… Continue reading Run, Forties, Run!
My gifts are piling up, and apparently someone gave me an ancient, weird white cat. Look at her, all perched up there like a mountain goat. That cat kills me. Also, Dear Ned: With the newspapers, already. Ned is a newspaper hoarder, or whore, depending on how well you listen. On my birthday, I really… Continue reading Countdown to @#%$& 50
Tallulah's doing her harrr-ing, where she rolls around on the bed and goes, "Harrrrrr. Harrrrrmmmph. Harrrr..." eds not even no wat to think when Lu do dis. I mean, do eds go for help, or...? Eds hate to haff to call you in like dis, mom, but Lu has flipped lid. Lu a scruu ball.… Continue reading Scruuu Ball
I feel like Belle Watling may have been driving her point home a little too hard with the bell earrings. I mean, we get it. Why don't you just date Quasimoto while you're at it? Why don't you move to Philadelphia? Why don't you work for the phone company? Why don't you write a JINGLE?… Continue reading June rambles about nothing. Well. Martinis. That’s something.
I just read an article yesterday, in my hard-hitting Entertainment Weekly, because I think it's important to stay abreast of the news. In it, a gay actor (that guy from Girls, you know the one? I love him) said young gay people don't go to gay bars anymore. They make fun of gay bars. I… Continue reading Celebrity Gossip with June
Today, Ima talk to you while I do my makeup. Here I am, looking like one of those women who doesn't shave her parts, whose one iota of makeup is some tinted Burt's Bees balm. Mmmm. Vision. You know, I am in no way a natural beauty. Never have been. Thank god I'm a drag… Continue reading Watch June apply her makeup. You won’t BELIEVE what happens next. Yeah, you will. She puts on clothes and goes to work.
Last night, we went to see King Kong, and not any stupid King Kong with Naomi Watts or even Jessica Lange. The original one, with that subtle actress Fay Wray. Please note the part where she's practically nekkid in that dress. This is one of Ned's all-time favorite movies. For weeks, Ned has been counting… Continue reading Overture, curtain, lights. Or, Fay Wray has June hair.
I haven't really talked to you since the 4th of July, before that kid out there put a firecracker and his head and killed his own self. Did you read about that? Anyway, since it's been that long, I will go backward, like Benjamin Button is blogging at you. Right now I just woke up.… Continue reading The impatient torso
Friend me on Facebook. I got bored without it. (Real name is NOT AT ALL Karen Sommerfeld.)
Although it's a national holiday, a day where we all try to blow off body parts and scare the country's dogs half to death, I thought I'd check in. Don't you hate people who say "check in"? Because I'm not trying to scream this out before work, which I'm always late for anyway, because I… Continue reading Hugging broccoli