As you know, because you wrote it on your calendars and alerted your families and took the day off, I went to see Young Frankenstein with The Poet last night.
She had me drive, because she was worried about parking, but I scoff in the face of parking, which makes no sense because parking has no face. Nevertheless, I persisted. We got there with no problem–there was even parking in the lot attached to the theater, which is a crapshoot, and what even IS a crapshoot?
Before The Poet got to my house last night, I came home and did my usual things, which involve eating something, and then obsessively inputting the info into my Weight Watchers app, and also paying attention to pets. I always feel sorry for Edsel when I get home from work and go to one of my movies.
I mean, look. I leave here at 8:45 each morning, I’m home at 1:00-ish for an hour-ish, I’m back home at 5:30. It’s not that bad. But I feel he moons over me when I’m gone, and writes sonnets, and then when I finally come home at night and leave again?

Poor Edsel.
Anyway, my point is, while I was doing pet things, I made a brilliant film, an art film, if you will, of Lily coming back inside. The rapidity with which she moves. It’s amazing.
Anyway, 6:45 was upon us, and there was The Poet, and it’s so nice when people show up on time after five and a half years [DISCLAIMER: on and off] of Ned showing up 45 minutes after he says he will. I remember when we were first dating, he was so late that I just finally left my own house. In a huff. So I wouldn’t be there when he arrived.
Then I realized that was exactly what the grandmother I’m turning [DISCLAIMER: turned] into would do, so I drove back and he never even knew I’d done that, because of course HE WASN’T EFFING THERE YET.
Anyway.
When we got to our fine parking spot in the lot attached to the theater–and you can see this was a big deal with me–some people were pulling in right next to us. “Excuse me, do you already have tickets?” a woman asked.
We did not.
“I have an extra. My work sponsors this event,” she said. “Do y’all want it? I hate it to go to waste.”
Oh my god!!!
So after several minutes of, “No, YOU should have it,” I finally talked The Poet into taking the free ticket, and I bought mine. Although I have to tell you. When I was in my 20s, you’re going to be stunned to hear there was a bar I went to, oh, every night, and sometimes instead of saying, “Two dollars,” the bouncer would just wave me in. Because loyal. Is what I was. And does my theater ever do that? Do they ever wave me in and say, “Never mind that $7.50, Loyal June”? Do they?
They do not.
“Do you want concessions?” “Of course I do,” said The Poet, who as you can see is a tub, and why did I even wonder. We got in separate lines, as sort of a race (I won!) (I got chardonnay. Five WW points), and while she was ordering The World’s Largest Container of Popcorn–now with every speck of salt! I meandered over to the raffle.
Is it a raffle if you don’t have to pay anything? The drawing.
Some nights, Wrangler Jeans, which is local, sponsors these nights at the movies, and you put your name on a slip of paper and win free jeans. I’ve never once signed up, I think mostly because Ned and I used to get there so very last minute that there was never time.
I wrote my own name on the paper, as opposed to my pseudonym, which I guess I actually do have, don’t I? And then I wrote The Poet’s name [DISCLAIMER: Her name is not actually “The Poet”] and put both in the jar. The Poet wandered over with her backhoe of popcorn and I explained the procedure.
“Well, that was nice, getting a free ticket. Maybe now we’ll win free jeans and the evening will be complete,” she said.

My lack of jawline and I talked her into sitting in the balcony, and we were just getting situated when the drawing began. There was a guy on stage drawing names.
“The Poet!” said the guy, and SQUEAL! We both squeeed like little bitches.
Turns out, you get free jeans AND four passes to the movies! GEEZ! From now on I’m entering that drawing.
You’ll be stunned to hear that Young Frankenstein was funny, and that only Cloris Leachman can make the word “Ovaltine” funny.
Also, holy cats, did Teri Garr have a bangin’ body.
Afterward, The Poet came over. You can see her water tower of popcorn was not finished, and she asked if Edsel could have it, and I was all, No, he eats too much junk, and then I proceeded to throw eleventeen kernels at him because I love to watch popcorn bounce off his bottom teeth. Anyway, TP got to meet that gregarious Steely Dan, who you can see would like to stab TP with his steely knife but he just can’t kill the beast.
I had to throw in some Eagles lyrics, since The Poet is such a fan.

Tonight I’m having dinner with three women I used to work with, and careful readers will note that’s three outings with women I’ve had in one week. If I’m not careful, pretty soon I’ll be tweeting about how I wouldn’t be anywhere today without my ladies.
And that is when I wish for you to punch me clean in the face.
Warmly,
Juan
I just used the Amazon link. Some vitamins that were more than half of what I paid at a local health food store! Also a toy, because my 6 year old nephew rules my world.
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I just put in an order through here too. Ordered those magnetic false eyelashes. Am currently obsessed with them. I have a feeling it will go horribly wrong and they’ll be hanging by one eyelash off my eyes, looking all like I have a spider on my face, but I have to have them. Also ordered the black charcoal toothpaste. Yeah, I’m the muse of stores that make the impulse aisles by the checkouts.
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Is charcoal toothpaste what they use to black-out teeth for stage and screen? That’s what immediately came to mind.
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It’s a new thing from Japan. It has fine charcoal in it and is very black. The fine grit is supposed to scrub stains off your teeth. It does make my teeth feel really smooth. It goes on your toothbrush black, but when you brush, it foams up to white foam, so it’s not like you have all this black goo in your mouth. The taste isn’t the greatest – it’s not repulsive, but it kind of tastes like soapy mint, although my mouth and teeth felt good after I used it. Jury is out on whether it actually whitens your teeth – I’ve only used it for two days so far.
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Have you ever used actual baking soda to brush your teeth? My mom used it sometimes because she couldn’t stand foamy toothpaste.
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You’ll be putting on the Ritz after my huge* Amazon order.
*Actually, very small
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The Poet is all “Come here, you little fuzzy muffin”, and SD is all “No thanks, I’m good. I only love the Mama.” Free tickets are awesome and that’s great that The Poet won jeans! It was a good night, all around.
I love Cloris L. Did anybody watch the show Raising Hope? I watch it now in reruns, and Cloris plays Mawmaw. Even 40 years later, she’s still hilarious! I don’t know whether it’s that she has the funniest lines in the show, or whether she just delivers them so well, that she’s the best character. That show was highly underrated when it was originally on. It is incredibly funny.
YF and Blazing Saddles are two of my most favorite movies. They are both so full of subtle humor and innuendo and every time I watch either one, I pick up something else. Mel Brooks is a genius!
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Young Frankenstein is THE best – and to his day, my mother and I say Ovaltine a la Ms. Leachman. I can’t say it any other way.
Also – I have a cat who looked and acts just like SD, (I still have her but she is old and scrawny now) so I automatically love him.
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And yet another deeply satisfying post, photo gallery, and comment section. June and her ladies. A true pleasure of life.
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So… my favorite line in YF is when they exit the wagon
“What knockers!” — Dr. Frankenstein, referring to the door
“Oh, thank you, doctor.” — Inga
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Love YF!! Last month I went to see it along with a meet and greet with…Mel Brooks!! He was incredible. Ninety years old and sharp as a tack.
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That photo of the two of you is hilarious because it looks like you photoshopped yourself in.
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Dayum, Teri Garr!
Lovely post, June.
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What a fun evening. Yay for the free ticket, more free tickets and free jeans. If you had read The Poet’s tarot cards, would they have predicted her winnings?
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My grandma also called a couch a davenport. My parents didn’t though. That picture of Edsel is breaking my heart! And that guy standing in line behind The Poet looks just thrilled to be involved in your picture-taking shenanigans.
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I was trying to figure out if the guy behind The Poet was punching her back.
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The Poet punched him?! I missed that part of the story. 😉
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Oh hey – WordPress made a little face. Cause my punctuation mark face was so 1999.
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Hee.
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Sounds like the Poet is on a roll and should not hesitate and with haste rush to the nearest Seven of the Eleven to purchase a Mega Millions ticket.
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Hilarious post. Mrs. Wiggins! That look on SD’s face at TP is one of just being over every one in the room. Great evening with a free ticket and free jeans.
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Lily is divine and I lust after your new loveseat. It looks so comfy. Can we say comfy here? Remember when couches were called davenports? Joob’s blog, come for the funny but then get perplexed by words like comfy davenports.
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My grandmother always said davenport. It kills me. Makes me want to sit on hers with my AYDS candies (okay, HER AYDS candies) and some coffee with Creamora.
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My grandmother said davenport too. I had forgotten that.
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Mine said divan. DEE-van. Hee.
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Dee-van. Good lord. My other grandmother said, “Billfold.”
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Billfold! My grandma said that too. It’s really a much more descriptive and sensible word than “wallet”.
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Mine too!
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I STILL say billfold…
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We always called it a billfold when I was growing up. It wasn’t until I moved to the big city that I started calling it a wallet. And I call a couch either a couch or a sofa.
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My Aunt Claudia was part of the divan & davenport crowd. I had an aunt/uncle/cousin who’s last name is Davenport. Maybe they referred to the Davenport’s davenport while sitting on their sofa/couch/divan.
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Also? My grandma? “Ice box.”
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Yes! The ice box! If I use that term, I would what my children would do?
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Well, how else is a person supposed to make my granny’s lemon icebox pie?
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Not that I’m ancient or anything, but I remember my grandmother having blocks of ice delivered for her ice box. The ice man used to always chunk some off and give it to me. Maybe that’s why, to this day, I chew ice. I truly am an ice-aholic. There must always be Alhambra ice in my freezer.
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You may be iron deficient, try taking iron tablets for a few weeks and it will probably clear up. Not that you want to quit chewing ice, but it could help out your teeth in the end.
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My grandmother called the refrigerator an ice box all her life.
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Mine called it the DIE-van. Seems like my Mom might have called it the DIE-van as well. Maybe it was a southern thing.
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I’m from Texas and we called it the DEEvan. My neighbor moved from back east and called it the Davenport. She said go sit on the davenport while I get us some whatah. I sat on the dog and waited for a hamburger. I was disappointed when whatah turned out to be water instead of a whataburger and the davenport turned out to be the deevan instead of the wiener dog which she pronounced the datsun, which I thought was a car.
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Bah!
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My mom had Ayds! Candy. I would steal them out of the refrigerator. I can still picture them in there. And I think you were suppose to drink something warm with them. I could be making that up.
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You were, but most people ate them and washed them down with Tab.
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Tab and a granola bar used to be my breakfast.
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Weren’t the Ayds things for weight control .Kinda like caramels.
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My mam-ma always called it a settee. Hers was white vinyl with avocado green upholstered cushions.
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A group of women I work with and I went to see YF as well – when he pulled The Poet’s name from the bowl I cheered! And then, when he mentioned that he’d try to pull the name of the person sitting next to her, I secretly wished he would because I thought that might be you. How was I to know that you resisted the raffle? I was the one wearing Levi’s who entered for Wranglers anyway.
Great post, June!
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Hah!!!
>
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Free tickets AND free jeans! That there is a good night! Like Paula H&B, I must also admit to never seeing Young Frankenstein. I must remedy that.
June, I love your new sofa. It’s so YOU! But, Ima need you to move it back in front of the window. Then all will be right with the world.
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TK, I have never understood why people put sofas under the window. The people sitting on it can’t look out the windows to enjoy the view. Now, I would get it if you lived across the street from a prison, but other than that, no. I guess it’s a matter of personal taste.
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It’s totally a matter of personal taste! The sofa is not in front of the window at my house either because of the shape of the room. But at June’s house, I think it works! Plus, for 10 years I’ve been used to seeing her sofa in front of the window and lately I’ve been all confuuuuused.
June, of course you can have your house any way you want it. Ignore me.
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I’d watch the prison. It would be my very own Orange is the New Black. I don’t know why I’m so damn chatty today.
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i abhor being late for movies. i want to see all of the previews.
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“backhoe of popcorn” — your descriptions that follow the primary description of the noun are the BEST.
Also, I want to be the poet with all the coolness.
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I too, am a fan of The Poet!
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Mutual Admiration Society!
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FYI, I believe Teri Garr has MS or some other awful disease. Also, I love your new couch.
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Teri Garr and Kahtleen Turner have RA. They have both taken copious quantities of steriods changing their looks.
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Look at Eds’ sad eyes. Oh, my heart!
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The disdain of Steely Dan is amazing. Not only does he not walk all over TP but he decides to ignore her and bathe. What a cat! I love, love, love Young Frankenstein! Watch it every time I run across it – that is my kind of humor. Sad that we have lost so many of those actors. Lovely post, lovely Juan.
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Your mentions of the weight watchers app has me considering signing up. Nothing else I am doing is working — since I don’t actually stick to any diets I’ve tried. Does WW have a refer a friend discount? If so, I will be glad to sign up that way so you save some money on your fees.
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Lovely post. When did you get that love seat? Gorgeous!!
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In accordance with paragraph 79.1(a)(3), in the Big Book of June, while her Mom was here.
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Thank you, Tee. I put a photo on Facebook, but I guess everyone here isn’t on Facebook. SADIE.
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I guess that too is why I didn’t see your house photos.
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Yeah, I had like 900 “Here’s m’porch!” photos on Facebook. Oh, how you all miss out.
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Did you ever pick out a door color? I didn’t hear much about that.
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HAAAAAAA!
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I DID see that Ithe door color) and the porch color looked purple-ish and not so gray as you thought it would and that Alf painted the porch before your Mother came to visit and that you and SD tracked it up. Hee.
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Maybe you need to post new photos of what you have done, of course, during your spare time.
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I can not overemphasize my love for Edsel. Seeing his pictures delight me.
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DelightS
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Who can take a nothing day and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile?
YOU, JUNE/JUAN, that’s who!
P.S. That damn Ned has been cheating you out of free stuff by being late?
Never again, Ned Come Lately.
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I hope The Poet stopped and bought a lottery ticket on her way home. Dang, it was her lucky night.
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Why didn’t I think of that? Oh, right—my brain was temporarily embalmed by a bucket of salt.
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SD is just incredible and yes, poor Edsel. I wonder if he knows how guilt inducing that face is? Glad you were winners last night! Lovely post, pretty Juan.
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I love your rigorous adherence
Crap shoot = throwing dice in a game of craps. Therefore, a gamble. I am not a person who is finicky about words [DISCLAIMER: this is completely untrue], but I hate “crap.” It feels disturbingly textured.
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That first sentence was supposed to say that I love your rigorous adherence to the truth. You know, because of all the disclaimers. Ah, whatever with my inept self.
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People who are late – the worst. I mean, once in a while it happens. But when it’s EVERY TIME that just means you think my time isn’t important. And when everyone knows you as someone who is always late, just know they also know you as an asshole.
Now, where was I? OH, yes! Lovely post June! What a fun evening! And free stuff? I’m in!
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Mrs Wiggins.
That little muffin is just so dang cute!
I share in TP’s popcorn porn. The bigger the better and pass the salt.
What a perfect evening. Young Frankenstein, popcorn, free jeans and movie passes.
Puttin’ on the ritz!
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Well crap. Forgot to say: lovely post June! “Now with every speck of salt!” Love it.
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Please put a photo of you and your dinner companions on Facebook tonight. Title it #Squad.
Thanks in advance. Jan
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Whatever a crap shoot is, I’m pretty sure I’m a non participant because crap shoots probably have crap shrapnel and crap kickback which….just…ewww.
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