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.
He finally called me week before last and apologized, and said his wife told him he had to take a vacation with her last week or she’d leave him, and that he’d have the part to me this week. Is it not Wednesday? Is it not? Actually I have no idea. Is it Tuesday?
I just looked. Okay, it’s only Tuesday, but I’d better hear from him today or there will be HELL TO PAY. I’ll go all my-grandmother on his ass. The dishwasher was broken for a long time before I even called. I YouTubed it and tried to fix it myself. That worked.
The point is, I been doing dishes by hand since God was a child. It’ll be exciting to have a dishwasher again. I considered since it was already gonna be more than $300 to fix (it’s the motor)
(MOTORIN’! WHAT’S YOUR PRICE FOR FLIGHT?)
I considered just buying a goddamn new one, but with installation and delivery it wouldn’t really be worth it, and also if you think I just have $500 lying around you need the professionals to come in with the net.
Hey, June, why don’t you discuss your dishwasher repair some more? Wait, let me get more coffee.
In case you’ve been on tenterhooks since yesterday, I did get that deck copyedited yesterday before 10:00, because I am amazing. Then I had 87 due-today things to edit and lo, there was great annoyance in the land. Also, I seriously don’t know how to get people to stop talking to me. Not looking at them when they walk by doesn’t work. Headphones and frown? Useless.
I don’t know if it’s everyone or just my personality type (see: bitchy) but being…EXPOSED all day long in the open floor plan is like to drive me insane.
The other day it was slow, so I idly got on Expedia to see if I could fly home this summer.
“WHERE YOU GOING?”
“YOU GOING ON A TRIP?”
“OH, LOOK AT JUNE! NOT WORKING! LOOKING AT EXPEDIA!”
Seriously, in the first 30 seconds of me looking, three people had to chime in. Ima make a point of every day going on my computer and looking up something intensely personal.
Why Is It Chafing Dot Com.
How to Have Multiple Orgasms at Your Desk
How to Tell Your Super-Religious Work Neighbor That You Have a Lesbian Crush
“WHO YOU GOT A LESBIAN CRUSH ON, JUNE? HEY, EVERYONE! JUNE HAS A CRUSH! ON A GIRL!”
Open floor plans the scourge of only children.
Here’s the thing that really kills me: Everyone who decided an open floor plan would be the shit? Has an office.
Anyway. So I got all my goddamn work done, and at 3:00 I went on my (wait for it) 3:00 walk with a bunch of dudes, all of whom are sort of metro, and once they all got together it was a metro free-for-all.
“Oh, are those Whoo Deee Hooo Doo pants?”
“Dude, I wait for the days you wear that shirt.”
“Have y’all gone on I’mNotGayIJustLikeClothes dot com?”
It was amazing. They were worse than me at Sephora. Well. No one’s worse than me at Sephora. Do you know what I’m sick of? People telling you where their happy place is, as if it’s not their clitoris. I just really don’t wanna hear “happy place” any longer. I also don’t want to hear you say, “Rinse. Repeat” when you’re trying to say “do this repetitively.”
No one even rinses and repeats anymore, anyway. It seems like shampoo has gone the way of bread. We were all supposed to love both, and now you brag about how long you’ve gone without either. “Oh, I NEVER shampoo! Like, once a year! Won’t you enjoy my homeless hair?”
Or wait, is not shampooing just a thing we curly women are into? I just shampooed this morning, actually, but with my eleven thousand dollar curly haired special no-lather shampoo, so really, how shampooed am I?
Say shampoo one more time.
I gotta go, because it’s already late and I have no idea why. Must’ve been the shampooing.
I leave you with pictures me me tormenting Steely Dan last night, who, let’s face it, richly deserves it.
Okay, gotta go to work. Rinse, repeat. Oh, fuck off.