I realize the best part of life is the thinner slice, and it don’t count for much.
What is wrong with me?
I realize I was supposed to write you Sunday for two–yes, TWO!!–special June weekend posts, but on Sunday I got into a weird cleaning frenzy and never did it.
The good news is, my floors are gleaming. The bad news is, you were bereft all Sunday. Then it was Sunday night, and your mom was spraying Hair So New on your wet hair while you watched Wonderful World of Disney
and ate a pot pie,
knowing you had school the next day and the weekend was over, and NO JUNE POST.
What is wrong with me?
Anyway, we can still have a …banquet this morning, so dry your tears. And your hair! It’s So New!
The reason I was going to write you Sunday is that my iPhotos had presented me with this weird grid the other day, a grid titled “People.” And indeed, it showed me people. Why these people, I don’t know.
But seeing as I’ve blogged at you for 11 years, give or take times I’ve allegedly FLOUNCED, it occurred to me that while I recognize all these folks, scarily, you might too. So I asked you: Who ARE these people?
And you answered. Often wrongly. So without further ado, because your ‘do is wet and it has Hair So New on it, let’s look at who’s on m’grid.
First person on the grid? Ned. That’s back when I liked him, when he still lived in his apartment. That’s all I have to say about grid number one.
That’s my stepfather, Harry, in the second place on said grid. He’s a saint. I remember that picture. My mother said, “Take a picture of Harry to put on Facebook, so his nieces can see him.” Then she photobombed.
Aunt Kathy. I couldn’t believe people didn’t know right away who this one was. I mean, how many times have I featured Aunt Kathy? And her Paul McCartney video?
Okay, up next?
Aunt Kathy’s husband, Uncle Bill. He is very handy. Also, he never, like, relaxes. Like, he’ll fly to China, which he does a lot, then come home and replace the roof all weekend, then get on a plane to Germany.
I’ve no idea what he does. Maybe he’s an international handyman.
Most of you knew my youthful coworker Ryan. What a buncha Mrs. Robinsons you all are.
This is my coworker, fmr., Alex. Her name is actually Alex, so she got offended when I started calling everyone ELSE at work “Alex.” To be fair, there really used to be like 12 of them at once. Anyway, you know her from coming to my house to do yoga, and also being one of the youthful people I would drink with.
Cantankerous coworker Griff. Of Thus Saith Griff fame. I like how someone was all, “Your coworker Gif or whoever.” Gif. Dying.
One of the Alexes from work. She doesn’t work there anymore. She helped me make my brick house costume when I had that Dress as a Character From a Song party. She lives a mile away and we never see each other, despite several tepid, “Let’s get together” texts.
Wedding Alex. Been on this blog approximately one frillion times. I took credit for every nuance of her wedding, from claiming I sewed her dress to building the church brick by brick. I forget why. Oh, right. I’m an asshole.
The Other Copy Editor, fmr. We worked on the same team, but then she left to edit poetry for a living, a job I do not understand. How do you edit poetry? Anyway, she also owns the B&B where I drink, as they have Come Drink at Our B&B Wednesdays, she and her husband do.
Aw. Another one of the Alexes. She left to take a very fancy job. She has a single dad my age who is hot hot hot, a thing I never let drop, and I wonder why I rarely hear from her. Hunh.
This Alex was in my blog also 21 frillion times, when she worked with me. She’s gone, too. She and I got pedicures, we had dinner together, I forced her to go to the psychic with me. I mean, we did it all. I also talked her into going on OK Cupid after her breakup, and she met her boyfriend on there, and is still with him, so get ready for another June Takes the Credit Wedding coming to a blog near you.
Dick Whitman. First person I dated once I was single. We dated for I think two terrible months, then we became friends, and then I got mad at him because when Ned and I broke up, he wasn’t what you’d call around. I felt bad. I felt abandoned. I felt all sorts of things. Anyway, when his mom, Dick Whitman’s Mom, died, we did have a nice chat about how great his mom was, so it’s not a terrible or anything, between us.
Camilo, of the banana Camilos. Like, we just talked about him LAST POST, so don’t be giving me any, “Who’s that.”
TinaDoris. We worked together; now she works with OKCupid Alex. I went to her wedding, I saged her haunty house, I blog-named her baby Borbala Rut. She’s having another baby, and I am the father.
I just want you to know, whomever called Austin, “Jerome or whoever,” I have called him nothing but Jerome ever since. I went to his house this Christmas Eve, he has the really good wallpaper in the kitchen, with the measuring cups and so on. He’s my favorite person at work.
Marty Martin. Friend in real life. Boyfriend of Kayeeeee. Marty is good people.
See. I already said Austin was my favorite person at work, but The Poet is also my favorite person at work. She is the other white meat. The Poet is being flown to London for a week, to read her poems, as she is The Poet. I’d be such an asshole if I were as fabulous as she is. Look at what an asshole I am at THIS level.
This is my coworker Molly. I go see her perform sometimes, as she swallows swords. No. She sings and plays guitar, and I like all of her songs. All of them.
Yet another Alex who was actually named Alex. She works with OKCupid Alex and TinaDoris now, in some new place where I don’t actually understand what they do. Anyway, she’s British, this Alex is, and she used to live in TinyTown, which you don’t see every day.
Faithful Reader LaUral. She wrote me and said, “I read your blog, and I’m not crazy but I can tell we work right near each other.” This was when I would do things like meet someone who read my blog. Now I’m wary. Too many creepy things have happened. But LaUral slipped in under the wire.
My tenant, fmr. She became my tenant, then got a job where I work, worked there for a few years, and Friday was her last day. I’m, like, the Last Woman Standing. I feel like some wizened old veteran there, with my seven years going on.
Aw. My boss, fmr. I miss him. I miss him more than I thought I would. He was always good for amusing conversation. And he and Griff would bicker like two old married people.
Kayeeeeee. Marty Martin’s girlfriend. Let me move in with her for those six weeks after Ned and I broke up and my tenant, fmr., was moving out. Kayeeee. Not a fan of Tracy Anderson workout videos.
And finally, none of you were right. This is Ned’s mom. I think I’ve only had her in my blog maybe five times in six years. So you’d have to be a careful, careful, possibly even obsessed reader to catch that one.
So there it is. My grid. And now I’m fairly exhausted.