No one is in the house right now except for Steely Dan, and I admit to the tiniest thrill of fear. There is no other animal to come to my aid, should he decide this is the moment to reveal he’s a tiny perturbed man in a cat suit. Continue reading “You just want it cause it’s gaudy.”
Aw, heck. I showered, fed everyone with fur, sat down here to not blog and noticed I had a call from a 1-800 number. Remember last month when some ass stole my identity, because everyone’s dying to be me? I have an automatic withdrawal from my gym, and let’s all giggle for a moment about “my gym.” Wow, June, you and that gym. It’s like you’re one. Continue reading “June’s outta touch, she’s outta time”
My GERD medicine annoys me. Continue reading “WHAT.”
Last night, I finished a freelance project. This is good, as I had negative four dollars in checking yesterday, so. Continue reading “Oh good, cat pictures”
Even though I have allegedly set it up so that when I plug my phone into my computer–and there’s something anyone said, ever, in 1947–my photos should pop right up, they never do. They USED to. I’ve no idea what’s gone wrong. Continue reading “In real life, vowels are free”
I noticed we weren’t guilted, yesterday, about celebrating Father’s Day on Facebook, as opposed to Mother’s Day. On that day, for every funny, cute or whatever mention someone had of his or her mom, there’d be a person kvetching that they HATE Mother’s Day, they can’t STAND to see other people celebrating it because of their personal WOES.
Lemme tell you something [pulls chair closer] [gestures drunkenly with cigarette]. Continue reading “If only June would talk about doorknobs more”
Because the first thing they teach you in kitten school is How to be a Pain in the Ass, my cats all want to go out in the morning, but they all want to go out at different times. Each one saunters to the door, and even if the back door is open and it’s just the screen door, the girl cats mew piteously till I open it. Continue reading “She ran callin’ fireflies”
Yesterday morning, Ned texted me this photo with no further comment. Dear World: He texted me. Did you note the “ed,” there, world? Because it seems like no matter what I do, I cannot stop hearing people say, “He text me.” Goddammit. Continue reading “Adopt-a-Klwkttenfreer.”
Several weeks ago–in fact, lemme look at the invoice…A MONTH AGO TODAY, I gave $244.82 to a dishwasher repairman who said I had to give him that much, he’d order the part, and I could pay him the remaining $87.50 when he returned.
I still don’t have the part, as he has not returned. He was not Daniel Day Lewis in that one movie. Continue reading “One day God said, “Your Christmases were too great, Only Child,” and he invented the open floor plan”
Last night I had a ridiculous dream. (Oh, good. Someone’s gonna describe their dream.) I dreamt I met a man and didn’t care for him at first, so when we first were introduced, I gave him my most sarcastic of smiles.
Continue reading “June sends loving thoughts to people who hold up the line”
I can’t really go into my headache study all that much, because of confidentiality and so on. But–and please don’t ask for more clarification, I can FEEL you all asking for more clarification–at the beginning of the study, I had to do a pain-threshold series of tests. Yes, they inflicted pain on me. Continue reading “Pain Bryant”
Last night, I went to my old movie theater and saw Joe Jackson. Not that he was in an old movie.
You know Joe Jackson from this song:
Continue reading “Look sharp”
I didn’t write today because I became obsessed with this list of ridiculous reasons people broke up. I’ve sat here all morning laughing like an idiot.
I, too, would break up with someone who thought it was “cold slaw.” So.
Yesterday, I went with Ned to look at houses for him to rent. As you know, if you’ve kept your Big Book of June Events wide open–like your limbs, Trampy–you’ll recall that Ned’s landlord–gaylord–is moving to D.C. and for some reason feels the need to sell the house Ned rents, the house we used to live in together.
There was a short sentence. Anyway, the gaylord offered to sell it to Ned, for about 11 million dollars over what he should have probably asked for it.
Continue reading “Sweet Home Alabama”
I’m only writing at you because it’s our day.
A few years back, when I sat next to my boss, fmr., he and I got into one of our 408-minute discussions about Things That Didn’t Matter and gee, I wonder why they split us up. That day, the discussion centered on what did Billy Jo McAllister toss off that bridge? Continue reading “It was the 3rd of June, another sleepy dusty Delta day. Volume XVIIIX934X”
Several times now, like two, Ned has called me out of the blue.
“Oh, hi, Ned. What’re you up to?”
“Just standing here panicking,” he’ll say.
Continue reading “Fifty-two is the kitten year”
Yesterday, I got an overwhelming pudding craving.
Continue reading “June in June”