There's a fine line between telling the truth as much as you can on a blog, which I try to do, and exposing someone else's story. Just because you choose to tell all your shit on a website (narcissistic disorder) doesn't mean everyone else in your life is signed on.
So yesterday I got on here and told you how–surprise!!!–my reuniting with Ned did not stick. And I told you a little about it, but then I went to work and felt like I had to take a Silkwood shower. As much as I'm not fond of Ned right now, I didn't feel good about exposing our terrible fight to the world.
So I took the post down. And I got on Pie on the Face (on Facebook) and talked to you about it. And remember, we decided to keep that discussion over there.
OVER THERE! OVER THERE! I DON'T KNOW THE RESTOFTHESONG! OVER THERE!
So, yeah. And the thing is, when we first decided to do 90 days, same as cash, I at first thought, "This is insane. I'm just prolonging my Ned agony. This'll never work." But then we spent all this time together, and it was great, and our vacation to the beach was perfect and I actually formed the thought, "Wow, this might really be okay this time."
Then boom. It didn't. So. But thanks for all your support on PieFace yesterday, y'all. For your support over there.
OVER THERE! OVER THERE! What the fuck. Is that song. OVER THERE!
We had our terrific ending on Friday night, Ned and I did, and I took a cab back to my house. A lovely man from West Africa drove me home, and I asked about his life, and why he prefers here to New York, which is where he first came when he got here. He was a very nice man who was probably delighted to be driving my crying ass home and has no excuse for not marrying me, which I suggested. He's probably already on his way back to any corner of Africa. Doesn't have to be west.
Because I have 21 dollars till payday, and I had an empty tank of gas, I spent the weekend watching cat fisticuffs and binging This Is Us. Am obsessed now, like the rest of you. Who's your favorite? Gotta be the boyfriend of Kate, right?
I also did my cards, and I don't mean I had sex with my cards. I opted for jaunty-as-fuck red birds on teal, as you do, and also what I call Christmas in Yer Fuckin' FACE.
IT'S CHRISTMAS, YO. Wait. Wait'll you see the envelopes. If you were here yesterday for my special one-hour collector's edition post, you already saw the envelope, but I imagine you are still reeling. Hang on to your hat.
I SAID CHRISTMAAAAAAS.
[grabs your lapel] DO YOU NOT KNOW THE DATE?
Anyway, I got halfway done, and now I hafta finish my cards tonight with a tasteful charcoal reindeer etching, the polar opposite of GET HAPPY birds and HEY! Santa!!, above. If your last name is A–L, you're all, okay, June. Be more frenetic. If you're an M–Z, you'll think wow, is June ever sedate this year.
I have a lotta people on my list, plus I feel compelled to write a personal note, because what's really the point of a card that's just all "Love, The Johnsons." Yeah, what about you, Johnsons? So I do stupid things like draw family portraits, and there's really no way to not make Edsel look like a rabbit. I guess his teeth are going the wrong way, aren't they? They should go up, not down. Why did I not pursue that career as a painter?
Anyway, considering my relationship is over AGAIN and I was desperately trying not to break into that $21, it was a good weekend. I finally had to charge gas yesterday, as my car has a convenient notification system that tells me how many miles I have to go on that particular tank of gas, and it was saying, "GRAB THE CAN, SISTER."
Then I went to the movies. I am sorry, but seeing It's a Wonderful Life at the old movie theater is my joint, and it was on, and fuck it. So I spent that $7 ($14 left), brought my own popcorn and a bottle of water (shhhh), and even though I got there half an hour early, the parking lot was full. Goddammit.
There was one asshole in a white truck taking up two spots. He was still in his truck, looking at his phone. People looking at their phones pisses me off way out of proportion to reality. I mean, they aren't beating a hobo. Anyway, I got out my car and tapped on his glass. He startled.
"May I pull in? The lot is full."
"I'm savin' this for my mother-in-law," he said.
Wow. Which is what I said. "Wow. Okay." Roooood.
So I had to go to a lot and pay $4 ($10 left), but it was worth it. I sat in the polar opposite place that Ned and I ever sit, and the place was packed, and I was the first person to run out of there like a little bitch, so if, indeed, he was there, I got away with it.
Anyway, tonight I celebrate my love for you and also finish my cards. Just two more nights of not spending my last $10! Can she do it? Will June make it till Thursday morning?
Oh, and Thursday morning, I'll finally show you my damn 10-year anniversary video, now that it's done and I spent forever on it and it's riddled with photos of Ned. I see on YouTube that 10 of you already looked at it, you delayed-gratification-what's-that motherfuckers.
we so bore of that veeedeo
I will talk at you tomorrow, unless I starve to death, and also, you realize Mr. Potter is Donald Trump, right? It hit me during his "lazy rabble" speech. And when he grabbed Mary Hatch's vagina.
Okay, talk at you.