Peter Pan if he’d let himself go

“I’m finally, after three months, getting my brows waxed at lunch today,” I announced to the other copy editors in my row. “Three months! It’s not like me to let myself go like this.”

They stared at me a bit.

I’ma go ahead and tell you right now, I’m not like other copy editors. If you wanna be Michael Jackson about it.

Other copy editors, and I think I speak from experience as this is my 22nd year of doing this job, tend to be more, well, low-key than me. I don’t even know why I’m a copy editor. Yes, I do. Marvin told me to be one, in 1997. I’m a copy editor cause of Marvin. Marvin also told me to be a blogger in 2006 and that’s why I am. Now that Marvin’s not here anymore, who’s gonna tell me what to be?

Anyway, I’ve let myself go, mostly due to my move, and I told the other copy editors this pertinent fact.

“I’m looking at you right now, in full makeup and hair, with giant earrings and cute shoes, talking about how you’ve let yourself go,” said another copy editor, who by the way was wearing a skirt with little proofreader’s symbols all over it and I COVET IT.

Nevertheless, I persisted with my theory, and stampeded to the brow wax salon and got properly groomed. It didn’t take long, so I had time to dash in and pick up something for lunch before heading back. Food, yay!

There’s a new restaurant in town that’s supposed to be healthy. Naturally, Ned had a city-wide parade to commemorate its opening. Naturally, I’ve never even considered going there.

But go there I did, post-brows, because it was less than a block away and my other nearby choice was Hardee’s. I considered walking to said healthy place, but there are no sidewalks. So I drove a few buildings down, turned left

and entered hell.

It was like Times Square on New Year’s Eve, without the fun. There was plenty of screaming and vomiting and Ryan Seacrest, though. The ENTIRE WORLD was in that tiny parking lot, and you couldn’t turn around, or leave, or do anything really except hope everyone ate and digested and left so you could finally do ANYTHING with your car long about 3 p.m.

I ended up going the wrong way down a back alley, which sums up my life, and parking in another parking lot that warned I’d be towed if I weren’t going to that particular restaurant. Oh, I wanted them to try. Oh, how I did. Because you’d have read today about how a middle-aged woman with giant hair and good brows disemboweled the entire car-towing industry with the foil edge of her contacts container. It’s all I have in my purse to disembowel anyone. I’ve thought it over.

I walked ON THE STREET to get to the restaurant, and when I entered, it was one of those places where you curl around the outer rim of the store and order at a counter, like Ponderosa only without any fun steak or pudding. My choices included a lot of quinoa and kale, two of the saddest words in our language.

And oh, did the white ladies love this place. Who ARE you women in yoga pants at noon? Why don’t you have to work? Also, if you don’t have to work, MUST you stream into restaurants between noon and 1:00? You’re already a trophy wife. You win. Let us have our goddamn lunch hour. We get ONE HOUR A DAY. Let us have it without waiting for a parking space, a waiter and a table.

When I began that line yesterday, I still had a glimmer of hope left for my future. By the time I left, I had the haunted look of those miners who were trapped for weeks.

Finally, after 12 hours, there was only one person left ahead of me, and she was a simply beautiful young girl with smooth hair and slender legs that didn’t touch in the middle. She had on those ankle boots all girls under 30 insist on wearing, and while I’ve caved and bought some, I always feel vaguely like chubby Peter Pan in them. Peter Pan if he’d let himself go.

The entire time she waited in line, Slenderella, over there, Puss in Boots, up yonder, crossed one booted ankle behind the other.

Why? Why do you need to do that? How are you even balancing? And furthermore, why?

When she got to the counter,

are you holding onto your hat?

When she got to the counter, she MADE A CALL. I could not hear what she was saying, but she had 8 million questions for the beleaguered person behind the counter. The ENTIRE WAY UP that endless line are little signs and menus telling you where EACH DAMN PIECE of food is sourced from, and how everything’s made, and what allergens are in them, so WHAT did Bootenanny need to know that HADN’T BEEN ANSWERED IN THAT ENDLESS LINE?


She stayed on the phone the entire time, like she was at a Christie’s auction, ankles crossed, and I envisioned fricassee-ing her on the hot surface behind the counter. Hog-tying her would have been easy; she was already halfway there.

I got a chicken bowl with purple rice (why?) (the rice probably crosses its ankles when it stands) and black beans and avocado and resentment and WAY WAY WAY WAY too much lettuce. No one needs that kind of lettuce in their life. No one.

Anyway, I got back to work IN A MOOD, and can anyone else tell me if this bothers them or if I’m just a cross (ankled) person in general…

If you eat at your desk, does it bug you when people want to discuss what you have? We sometimes have food trucks at work, and inevitably, someone will say, “Oh! Is that from the food truck?”

No. I brought a cheeseburger and fries from home and placed them in this handy open cardboard container. It’s a wonder it’s all still hot, isn’t it?

I got to my desk, did I mention in a MOOD? And poor Fewks, the guy next to me, was all, “Eating healthy today?”

Guess who did not have good health after that. Was it disemboweled Fewks?

It probably would have been better for my blood pressure to go to Hardee’s.


62 thoughts on “Peter Pan if he’d let himself go

  1. This is a most hilarious post, June. I think I will actually read it twice. Can you imagine the Soup Nazi putting up with Bootenanny’s shenanigans???


  2. At the last place I worked, I made it a rule that you could not talk or ask questions about another person’s lunch. The amazing thing is that everyone followed it. I’ve not had such power before or since.


  3. The Hardee’s $5 lunch now includes the double cheeseburger sliders – you get two of those, fries, drink, and warm chocolate chip cookie. It’s a winner in my book.


  4. Good for you for being able to decide for yourself (and not have someone tell you) what to do.
    I hope you feel like Mary Tyler Moore at the beginning of the show.


  5. Heehee. June, today you confirmed the suspicious I always had reading your blog. You share a piece of DNA with my husband! We’ll be in the car, someone in front of us will do something wrong (change lanes without signaling, take forever to move when the light go green causing the cars behind to get stuck with red again, etc.). Or we’ll be in line in a restaurant where you order at the counter and the person in front of us is taking forever. HE GETS FURIOUS! After 25 years of marriage it still surprises me how different our reactions are (mine is to peacefully take the time to admire the surroundings, take a peek at the new June’s blog on my smartphone, etc.). It never gets to me.

    I’m not trying to brag here because I know it’s not something any of us do on purpose — it’s just our natural reaction to things. Also not trying to give advice but I’ll share with the readership here what’s been helping him: meditation apps (10% Happier, Waking up). There are plenty of scientific reasons for why this works but he doesn’t care, he just wants the problem fixed because it’s not fun to become so irritated with things that happen with us practically on a daily basis. So now he’s practicing 5 min of meditation on top of 2 days of yoga a week, and I can notice the difference!


  6. I think I know the establishment that you speak of…yes, Hardee’s may have been the better choice in this instance. And now that you’ve “reviewed” the establishment, my stance to never cross their doors has been cemented.


  7. Great post old lover- you never disappoint! I can actually do the ankle thing too, even though my thighs DO touch in a most stupendous way. Go figure.


  8. Phone use when it’s your turn? Hell, no. Be ready, dammit! (She grumbles grouchily to herself.)

    Sorry, I had to get that off my chest this afternoon.

    I volunteer at my church’s food pantry. We have about an hour and a half to interview, process and serve up to forty clients/families. I work at the desk and try very hard to be helpful and welcoming. However, it really upsets me when a client sits down at my desk and proceeds to jabber on the phone. Please…hang up and help me get you on your way! I’ve resorted to taking my “teacher laser eye” out of retirement. Zzzzzappppp!! I stop what I’m doing, give the laser eye and say, “Excuse me. Please hang up or I will go on to the next client.”

    Moral of this story: don’t mess with a retired teacher.


    1. No, never mess with a retired (or even current) teacher. People know who we are without us having to tell them, because we have The Eye!


  9. This post makes me re-tumble into deep and abiding love for you even more.
    This is not a stretch – during a time in my life when everything seemed bad, I would read your blog in te middle of the night, alone downstairs when everyone else was asleep, and I would laugh so hard I couldn’t breathe. Back when there was Henry and you would ‘yoko’ Marvin and OMG the joy it brought me.
    You just never really disappoint June. And as a journalist I’ve always thought that you are way more put together than 99 percent of the people in the profession.
    Lovely brows, dear.


  10. Bootenanny killed me. VERY funny post. My youngest sister looks good in boots and leggings. She’s the tall one and can wear tall ridding boots. I was the only one my age at the family reunion last year not wearing cute boots. I had my orthopedic oxfords on. So stylin’.


  11. Excellent post, June! And thank you, I needed it. Yesterday I had a loaner car while my poor old car is in the shop. After work, my loaner car had a flat. I had to call Roadside Assistance and wait an hour for them to arrive, inflate the donut spare, etc. I drove home thinking that the donut felt more like a brick. This morning I went to get in the loaner to go to work and the *&^%$^&*(*&^%$$#@@ donut was flat. My son helped, re-inflated it, I went to work AND I STILL GOT TO WORK BEFORE MY COWORKER. And of course the repairs on my poor old car are expensive. So I needed your excellent post today.

    My yoga pants have never been to yoga, but they’ve also never been to work. Nor will they. Kids today. Tsk tsk tsk.


  12. Alternatively, you could take your lunch hour at 3 pm, as I did, and wait at the pharmacy behind a “blonde” with messy hair, dark circles under the eyes and a leopard print outer garment of some kind. I think she was asking which health plan would cover whatever thing she was there for, or whether they’d take $3 for it. The pharmacist was looking frail and making phone calls. I slunk apologetically back to work around midnight. Oh, and they couldn’t fill the prescription I wanted–MIGRAINE MEDS–even though I called it in LAST WEEK.


    1. There has never been a pharmacy in the world that hires enough pharmacists and assistants to keep a line moving. Never ever.

      Bootenanny! I’m going to think of that next time I’m in line somewhere and everyone will back slowly away from the sniggering weirdo.


  13. Another hilarious post. This is definitely one for the book. There needs to be several laws 1) yoga pants should be illegal, because very few people look good in them and then there’s the rest of us, 2) ALL businesses should display a NO PHONE USE WHILE BEING SERVED/WAITING/ORDERING. It makes me furious when people are so rude they think it is okay to be on their phone while doing another activity. The ankle crossing? I would never attempt that because I would get my feet tangled and end up on the floor. At my age I don’t need to fall.

    P.S. Trudy came home.

    Liked by 2 people

      1. YES! At 3:30 this morning. I got up, went to the kitchen and I saw her out on the porch railing. I asked her where the heck she’s been since Saturday morning. She never answered me.


  14. Yep, this one goes in your book! I laughed, I cried . . . it has it all!! I would have been so tempted to push Miss Skinnymalinks to the bank of the line and make her do her thinking and phone discussions from there.

    Liked by 1 person

  15. Thanks for the early morning laughs – I could not have loved this more! I’m going to come back after lunch and read it again to reinvigorate my rage senses.

    Every time I go into a store or restaurant, it seems like I’m the only one who’s ever been in one before, because everyone in line in front of me has NO IDEA how anything works.

    “Oh, you don’t take traveler’s checks here at this Arby’s?”
    “Oh, you mean the prices here at Bed Bath & Beyond AREN’T negotiable at the register?”
    “Oh, are you sure you don’t have a Whopper here? But I get one every time I come to McDonald’s!”

    If I owned a business, the uniform would have a shirt that just read “Walk in, order, pay, leave – and shut up while you’re at it.” I don’t know how anyone deals with waiting on the public without imploding!


    1. Towards the end of my time in retail I was stsrting to just let it fly. I quit before getting fired. I was so butned out. We had paid off our mortgage and I’d done nearly eighteen years of it. I despised people for quite a while.

      Liked by 1 person

  16. This. Is. Gold.
    Definitely one for the book.
    Also the comments.
    After watching a do it yourself brow wax veedeo on FBoJ all I can say is thank bejeezus you went to the pro.
    The waiting in line while some dick/tw*thead goes over the entire CLEARLY DISPLAYED menu also drives me crazy.
    The phone thing is beyond rude.
    Add a pound of salt to that disembowelment.

    Liked by 1 person

  17. I am neither under 30 nor particularly slender-legged, but I cross my ankles when standing still. It keeps me from constantly shifting my weight back and forth and driving everyone around me crazy with my fidgeting. I never answer my phone in line, so hopefully I get a pass on ankle crossing.

    I used to be an angry red waxer until I discovered eyebrow threading. Complete game-changer, I can actually book an appointment on a lunch hour!

    Ladies at my office (not just the young, cute ones) have started wearing yoga pants TO WORK. Completely absurd, and I just shake my head as I pass them in the hallway.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. OK. I will now admit that I do this TOO! I was afraid the others would tar and feather me! And for a similar reason. I spent so many years swaying back and forth holding a child that I now sway anytime I’m standing. Which is weird when you’re in the check out line cradling a gallon of milk.


    2. Today a lady at work has yoga leggings on and flip flops. Nice. I cannot go anywhere for about 24 hours after waxing, maybe I shall try threading! Thanks for the tip.


  18. The women wearing yoga pants probably do work. They just wear yoga pants or jeggings and call it good with their boots. I was looking at the women at work one day and those of us over 50 had on real pants. The rest had on the hideous yoga pant combo. And from the look of it, they haven’t been eating kale and other garden weeds.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I have looser yoga pants from the Chubs R Us catalog. They are even boot cut. I can’t do boots above the ankle because my one leg is fatter from varicose veins. Those could also be nurses on their days off. They do 3 12s in a lot of hospitals now.


  19. Someone in another office (not copy editors) sent those of us who put together the company newsletter an article on quinoa and why we should try it, how she tried it, and how it changed her life. As the editor, I vetoed the article. I thought you’d have my back on that.

    Also, this one is my favorite next to the one with the ice cream sandwich and the tuba under the carpet. Nice brows.

    Liked by 1 person

  20. With your cousin on the waxing, I had to quit cause everytime I looked like I had been hit with a flame thrower. After a couple of days of nasty red, the entire waxed surface peeled. Always an attractive sight!
    I cracked up with your description of stork legs. She’ll be old some day with cankels if anything is fair in this world!


  21. I can’t be the only one who read this and then stood up to see if they could balance with one ankle crossed behind the other. Or, maybe I am the only weirdo who tried.
    Laughed out loud at your rage. Happy I’m not a copy editor at your work because I would’ve been disemboweled too.

    Lovely brows, lovely June


  22. HILARIOUS post, June!
    I admire the fact that you can get your brows done and go right back to work. When I’ve had mine done, my brows are hot, angry, red and owchie for half a day. I gotta plan that trip very carefully.

    In a million years, I would not say you’ve let yourself go.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. That is my mom too, with the angry skin. I’m OK with the hot wax, that chemical crap burns my skin. I tried cold wax once. My lip was swollen like Donald Duck and still had hair in it. My friend and I nearly peed our pants laughing.

        Liked by 1 person

  23. Ha! Who can take a nothing day and suddenly fill it with endless rage? Well it’s you June and you should know it… that’s all I got.

    I am raging right along with you. Especially over the flamingo in booties. And I would bet the people behind the counter were just as thrilled to see the phone come out. My favorite coffee shop has a sign posted at the counter – “We will not acknowledge you if you are on your phone.” I love them for their coffee but even more for that sign.

    Thanks for the laughs June my old lover! But hey! Great brows!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Leonard! I think you got (and Edsel chewed) Leonard while we were on a break! Can’t wait to hear the story!


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