Ned and June Put Edsel to the Test

“I have an all-day meeting and I’m getting out of work early,” said Ned, and “early” for Ned means “a normal time to leave work” in my world. Remind me to never be the president of anything. Except this nonblog.

“Would you like to have dinner? I’ll be early, so you can eat like the elderly, as you like to do.”

Back when we were dating, Ned would call me at, like, 8:00. I am not exaggerating for dramatic effect. He’d work till 6:00 or 6:30, go to the gym, drive home and then call and say, “I am starving.” That noon salad just wasn’t sticking with him eight hours later.

How did I not bludgeon Ned to death every day for four years?

So, him calling me at 8:00 meant he (a) was going to go to a restaurant at that point or (2) make something. From scratch. “I’m going to start the water to boil beans.”

Really, how DIDN’T I bludgeon him to death?

What this meant, when we were dating, was I had to starve till 9:00 in order to eat with him, or I’d eat like regular people, at around 6:00, and then have to hear the appalled speech when I’d announce AT 8:00 ON A WEDNESDAY that I’d already had dinner.

Later, I researched love avoidance and said, Ohhhhh. Okay. (It’s one of the things they do. They busy themselves. Oh, I’m so consumed. I can’t possibly actually sit and give you my undivided attention.)

My point is, here was Ned, willing to feed me on a Wednesday at 5:30.

I know you’ve all been lighting candles and keeping charts, so you know that I’ve had an ATM card saga. While I was out volunteering to make smocks for the homeless a few Friday nights ago, I accidentally lost my ATM card when a giant vat of whiskey sours landed in my throat. It was such a phenomenon. It was like the Northern Lights, with sour mix.

It wasn’t even GOOD sour mix. The whiskey sours I get at the fancy hotel near me? They make their sour mix right there. The whiskey sours I got on Lost ATM Night was shot from one of those soft-drink guns. I blame the pinball. I was so up in it that I didn’t notice I was having 49 drinks.

Oh my god, anyway. So I finally got an ATM card from my bank, and when I called to activate the card, they said, “For your safety, a separate letter with your PIN will be arriving.”

You have got to be fekking kidding me.

So now I have this limp ATM card, which at least allows me to go back to my Jimmy John’s delivery habit, but little else. It’s quite confining–and this is Shamrock Shake season! I realize I could drive to the bank and get out cash like I used to with my mom in 1972, but if I drive to the bank at lunch, pretty much that’s my lunch hour, and I keep saying, Oh, I can scrounge up something at home.

Hang on. Ima show you my exciting June’s-ATM-is-useless food supply at the moment.

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WOOOT! Is it sad that the most abundant thing is cat food? Yes, June. It is.
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The telltale to-go container tells you where this story is going.

I said yes to dinner. “After, can you help me give Edsel some tests?!” I asked. Because that’s the kind of standup person I am. You’ve offered to buy me dinner, and my reply is, “Only if you do something else for me.”

“Of course,” said Ned, as he likes Edsel.

Truth be told, I don’t really like going to restaurants. It’s never been fun to me. I have on-and-off years of panic attacks, and restaurants are a trigger for my panic attacks, because you’re stuck there. You can’t dash out 10 minutes later without making a scene.

I’m not in a panic attack cycle right now, I’m just in my regular low-grade anxiety mode that I’ve been in since I’m 8. I had a giant swath of panic attacks starting when I was 19 and ending when I was around 21.

Then on New Year’s Eve 1999, I had another one on a ferry and was tortured with them for a few years, and I’ve been fine since. Knock all of the wood, please.

The point is, because when I’m having panic attacks, restaurants are among my least-favorite things, I kind of hate them all the time. I dislike a lot of things many other people seem to love: Christmas, travel, live music, babies, football, hugging.

But you saw my cupboards. I went to the restaurant last night. Got spaghetti bolognese. Because I’m watching my figure (turn into Queen Victoria’s).

When we got home, we commenced to giving Edsel another of the Dognition personality tests with which I am so obsessed. This time, we tested his memory.

The first two or three tests I gave him the other night insisted I have a partner, with the caveat “if you don’t have a partner, go to our blog.” Well, I’m already HERE and I already watched the introductory video and NO. I’m not going over to your damn blog. Which is what you all say every day, and yet here you are.

So, despite the world saying I needed a partner, sister did it for herself, and it was fine. But since I HAD a faux partner in Ned (you’ve said a mouthful there, sister), I decided to see if it was easier.

It wasn’t.

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Testing area

The way Dognition works is they tell you what aspect they’re going to test that time, using a brief intro video from the guy who most likely invented this whole idea. “Do you want me to wear my hair like that?” interrupted Ned, while the shaggy millennial spoke.

“Shhh,” I said, then inwardly giggled at the idea of Ned with longish bearded millennial Williamsburg unicycle shaggy hair.

After the intro, they guide you to a page all about this particular test. You can either read the steps, or watch another video where they show you the steps. I kind of do both at once.

“Are those guys gay?” asked Ned, as we watched two millennial men play memory games with their trendy large dog who I promise you they refer to as a “rescue,” a dog inexplicably named Kai.

“Kai? Are they saying Kai? Oh, those two are a couple,” surmised Ned, who really isn’t as homophobic as I’m making him sound.

“SHHH. Ned, I’m watching how to do this,” I said.

And, see, there was our problem. Because while I, superior I, was busy learning how to test Edsel’s memory, Ned was too busy mocking the video, and when I got started, he had the

NERVE

to tell me I was doing it wrong.

“What–why are you–you can’t LIFT the cup. That’s cheating,” Ned would say, having not paid attention to one of Kai’s gay owners LIFTING THE CUP during the video.

Meanwhile, here was Edsel.

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dees too again. why dey not just go no contack?

Eds was SO not into our testing last night. Some of it had to do with Ned and me bickering, and some was the part where you’d show him a treat, put said treat under a cup, then wait as long as two and a half minutes before he could retrieve the treat.

Lemme tell you who 100% forgot treats were ever invented in 2.5 minutes. That would be old steel-trap Edsel, up there.

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In summary, Edsel’s memory sucks. They tried to be polite about it, but later in the description they talked about how wolves and feral dogs have to hunt prey for hours, and while sometimes the prey isn’t in site, these wild animals remember the prey’s general vicinity and keep hunting.

“Edsel doesn’t have this instinct,” they euphemized, pretending it was because he was so well fed at home that he didn’t need it. They can’t come out and say, Your dog is sort of a dunce.

“There is no need to worry! It is just one more piece of evidence that Edsel has his own cognitive style,” they said.

Yes. His own cognitive style. That’s it.

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Yu heer dat, Steeeleee? Eyeriss dyeeeng. Own cognitiff style.

I gotta go. I have to get in the shower and get my own style going. I’ve started Retin-A and remember that scene in Sex and the City where Samantha shows up to Carrie’s book party with the raw face?

Veil down, I think.

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Attractively,
Jeb

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Author: June

At one point, I was sort of hot, in a "she's 27 and probably a 7" kind of a way. Now I'm old and have to develop a charming personality. Guess how that's going.

39 thoughts on “Ned and June Put Edsel to the Test”

  1. I swear to God I was ok until I got to the picture of Edsel and blue and his kitty cat claws saying this..
    “dees too again. why dey not just go no contack?”. Then I laughed( and peed) out loud. At my desk. At work. You kill me.

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  2. Nice post Coot. Edz is sandbagging you. He doesnt want you to know how intelligent he really is.

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  3. I now definitely know we must be related somehow, maybe 4th cousins twice removed or something.

    THIS IS SO ME, TOO!!!!!
    “I dislike a lot of things many other people seem to love: Christmas, travel, live music, babies, football, hugging.”

    I am a hugger though, but only people I truly like. The rest is spot on. If there is a baby in the room, I am NOT holding it!! Don’t understand the fascination with football or going to concerts. Christmas is stupid. I want to see places, but hate all the inconvenience (& money!) it takes to get somewhere and then not be able to sleep in my own bed.

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  4. It looks like you might have enough top ramen to get you through a week. I’m also too not liking many of the things you dislike. I do love babies, though. And sometimes hugs. I think Eds is over the testing.

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  5. We should do an episode of Chopped from June’s pantry. Let’s see… lasagna noodles, maple syrup, and cat food. MAKE A DESSERT!

    My little dog (SHE’S A TRUE RESCUE!) is so smart she’d be giving ME the tests. She’s a smart one!

    Lovely post lovely June! And hello also to Ned-Ex!

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  6. It is probably good Edz is forgetful, he might not be able to live with himself if he remembers his aggression toward puppies!

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  7. There is so much funny in this post. I don’t like most of those things you listed. I will hug, but I am uncomfortable with it, probably because I was never hugged growing up. I especially hate live music in eating establishments. We ate at a little local place/pub last week with our neighbors and could NOT even carry on a good conversation because of the LIVE MUSIC. I was ready to cut the strings on that guitar.

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  8. You know you will burn your whole lunch going to the bank just to get home this evening to your pin in the mail.

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    1. YOU ARE SO RIGHT. Plus also, I just remembered I had that leftover spaghetti bloatedJune in the fridge. Yet another day June does not go to the bank.

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  9. I should ship you some of the crap from my pantry because it’s about to explode. I don’t know why I have so much stuff in mine. I don’t even cook regularly. I want to blame it on my mom living with me for the last 5 months, but honestly she didn’t put much in there and it was like that before she came.

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  10. No lie, seeing your refrigerator and pantry made me nervous.

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  11. I, too, have The Anxiety in situations everyone else floats through. They offer suggestions such as, well just stop worrying about it. OR. What if I go with you? Yeah no. None of that helps. But here’s how I manage the restaurant thing on the days I lose. Instead of making a scene leaving the restaurant, I’m the weird woman who hangs out in the restroom, asks for ice to cool off, and drinks a ton of water. Something about being able to distance myself from people when I’m feeling vulnerable helps.

    Also, thanks for sharing Edsel’s personality. I wonder where he’d be on the Enneagram. I’m totally going to do these tests on Samson because I’m quite sure he and Edz are in the Mom is Whole World club.

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    1. Oh my stars! I logged in because WordPress asked me to, and it took me to my long-forgotten blogsite! I’m sure you’re as excited as I am because clearly it’s all about me today.

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  12. I tried the yawning test with my dog last night. She just looked at me like I was crazy. So I won’t pursue Dognition because I would hate to find out she hated me and is stupid and only stays here because I feed her. I mean, I already have that in a husband, I don’t need it in my dog. Well, not the stupid part, but, oh, never mind.

    What is in that leftover box? I haven’t eaten out (and consequently, haven’t had a decent meal) in 2 months.

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      1. I just went back two times and STILL can’t find it. I think I’m distracted by the 198480 other tracks this post was running on.

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        1. Caption under the photo: The telltale to-go container tells you where this story is going.

          A few paragraphs under photo: But you saw my cupboards. I went to the restaurant last night. Got spaghetti bolognese. Because I’m watching my figure (turn into Queen Victoria’s).

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  13. I got hungry reading this post and comments. June’s blog, come for the funny and be hungry all day after.

    The picture of Eyerisssss and SD in the background is so cool. Very Hitchcock like.

    The different selfless, humanitarian places and activities you were at when you accidentally got hammered and lost your ATM card are not going unnoticed and have made me giggle several times this past week.

    As someone with bad claustrophobia, I can relate to the restaurant avoidance periods of time. When I eat out, there are many spaces I can not sit at and I always have to be facing the door and usually have to be near a window so in case I need to exit quickly and the door is blocked, I can heave my fat ass out the plate glass window onto the sidewalk, brush myself off and walk away. I know plate glass isn’t easily broken, but I am strong and can pick up a table and throw it at the window and try to make a dent in the glass whereby then I can pick up a heavy chair and keep banging at glass until it breaks or until the doorway clears of customers waiting for tables. Thankfully I am partnered with someone cause if I had to do the dating thing, I’d never get a second date.

    You’re so pretty, Joob!

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  14. I did a similar intelligence test on my dogs. The test is to take your dog to the kitchen (whatever room you are testing in) and have them sit and stay. Then show them a treat. Lay it down and cover it with a dish towel. When you release the hound from stay you start the timer on how fast they get the treat out from under the towel they just saw you put it under.

    My first dog, a Princess Siberian Husky, did very well. She snagged that towel with one paw and flung it aside and gobbled up the treat. I mean, I barely got the timer started and the whole thing was over.

    The next dog we did was our little pedigreed Miniature Schnauzer. That boy had pedigree back for generations and was quite handsome, but dumb as a sack of rocks. We brought him in the kitchen, showed him the treat, covered the treat and released him. And he sat there. Treat? What treat? There were treats? My daughter got down on the floor and was cheerleading him and trying so hard for him to realize that the treat had not disappeared. Not too bright, that Schnauzer. But he made up for it with tenacity. He had extra tenacity.

    Then we got our current dog, Ernest T. Bass. He’s a big ole Pitty Mix who eats everything that isn’t nailed down. Even the cat shit. We got him in sit, stay. Set down the treat, covered it with the dish towel and and released him. Within milliseconds he was eating the towel and the treat. We had to dig the dish towel out of his jaws and give him an extra treat.

    Interesting, these pets, aren’t they?

    Nice post, Coot!

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  15. Always sit facing the door and by a window at restaurants. Otherwise I pout, and it ain’t pretty. Can you use your ATM as a credit card? Pretty much same thing, should work? No PIN needed.

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      1. It could be the BANK requires the PIN. I’ve tried to use my debit card as a credit card and bank wouldn’t allow it. Not all banks do this. Is it Suntrust?

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  16. I thought I was the only one who’s panic comes and goes. Last summer was particularly bad for me. Not so much now. Weird.

    I also want to they the yawn thing with my dog. Curious. I bet she’ll do it for my husband and not me. Bitch.

    Lovely post, lovely coot.

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  17. Oh I’m lurking like a boss today, but y’all’s comments plus the stellar post make me ashamed of myself. It never occurred to me that restaurants could trigger panic attacks but I can totally see it now. We went to one pizza place in Nicaragua one time with the slowest service ever. We finished and kept trying to signal for the check and got nowhere. After 35 minutes I told my family to all stand up. Nothing like a party of five all standing angrily in the middle of your restaurant to make your waiter priorities change.

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