Ask June Anything Day

I had a migraine this morning, so I took a pill and lay back down, waiting for it to work. Edsel spent that whole time with his head pressed against me, wiggling ecstatically. Restful.

Since I'm running late, let's have Ask June Anything day, and I will answer in the comments when I can. Go ahead. Ask.

Advertisements

The one where we’re all sorry we had freaking question day 264 days ago.

IMG_6880

I may or may not have given Lu a Tostito the other day. Behold her crunchy face. She wants you all to know she is delighted that such a flattering photo is going on the Internet. Lu is not allowed to say "Interwebs." Nor are any of you.

Yesterday I had my regularly scheduled workday, screamed home and did some freelance work at noon, screamed back to work and worked on a huge presentation, then at 5:00 I stayed and wrote Purple Clover, which was due, then screamed home and fed everyone, then screamed to the old movie theater, where they were showing It's a Wonderful Life.

I was dead asleep by 9:45.

Let's scream to your questions from the other day. Yes, again. IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOU HAD SO MANY.

Texas Kari, for whom I am grateful asked, How did you become a church secretary? How did you decide to be an editor?

I became a church secretary because we moved to TinyTown and I had nothing to do but take walks all the time. I'd always stop at this beautiful gothic church to catch my breath, because we lived at the bottom of the world's tallest hill, and the church was at the top. Finally one Sunday I went to church there so I could see the inside. The priest, Father Mike, knew who I was (in a town of 3,000, you know the new folk) and asked if I needed a job. I worked Monday through Thursday, 8 till noon. In an empty old beautiful church. The only interruptions I had were the old church ladies who'd stop by. I love love loved that job.

I became an editor because I was a receptionist after college, and Marvin wouldn't hear of it. "You can be doing so much more," he said. So he pretty much made me apply for a proofreading job 19 years ago, and the rest is history.

LisaPie in Texas wondered, Do you know how many pounds of pork I need to buy to make a gazillion dozen tamales next week?

Eighty. And you know what sounds delicious? Pork tamales.

KR asked, 1. Mid century modern furniture guy??? D. Are the loud little girls with snowball still your neighbors back in your new/old neighborhood? £. How is Charlie?

1. What about him? Did you not see the post a few weeks back where we had our photo taken together?

D. Snowflake. You guys have called that poor dog every name but his real name. I haven't seen them, but it's winter, and also they're probably all sort of old for playing on the swings now. I did see two preteen girls walk past, and I wondered if one of those girls was one of the Snowflake girls, but I wasn't certain. When we DO see each other, I am certain they'll still bellow, HI, ETHEL! HI, LALUUULA! They were not bright.

£. Charlie and his girlfriend broke up, and he is going to a nursing home as a result. This makes him sad, as you can imagine. But his girlfriend, who is an amazing person, is in her late 20s/early 30s and has spent the last several years being his primary caregiver. She has a chance for a big promotion at work, and she can't take said promotion till she moves to Boston, and she's finally doing that at the first of the year.

Bama Carol asked, How are you doing, really? Just concerned.

Eh, Not great.

Linda from Jamestown asked, What is the name of the bar where you go dancing, when you do go out dancing, that is? I love to dance, but all the clubs around town are full of 20 somethings.

Well, I go to Chemistry, the gay bar, but some nights no one dances till midnight. There are also pop-up dance parties for old people. I get Facebook notices for those, so look on Facebook for them. They are sometimes at Printworks, those dance parties. If you see someone there with hair, dancing like an idiot, come say hi.

Nithya asked, Would you rather live your whole life being the only person who smells a truly disgusting smell OR be the source of that smell so others smell it when you're around but you are happy and cannot smell it?

I pondered this for awhile, and I think I would want to smell the smell than BE the smell.

My Mother's Best Friend asked, June: Why did you hog all the stuffing on Thanksgiving?

Dear Gwen, I got two words for ya, and they ain't "Let's dance."

Rogue asked, How do you manage to stay upbeat with everything that happens?

Oh, please. I'm not. I'm not sleeping and I mope around like a sad bat. I have no idea why I just picked "sad bat." I guess cause they hang around all day. Anyway, also Lexapro.

Karen in VB wondered, Have you had that wonderful test we are all supposed to have after turning 50?

No. I have not. I'm trying to think of it as a cleanse.

Karen in VB wrote back to ask, Have you tried the Duplin wines? They are all very sweet.

Ugh, no. They sound awful. In fact, Ned's family has a story about that wine, where on Christmas one relative went on and on about how dreadful that wine was, and then she opened her gift it was, like, a case of the Duplin wine. So…heh. Yeah.

Oh thank god, that's all the questions. Oh, and you know what? Today is my nine-year-anniversary of blogging! Here is my first, really boring, post. June Cutoff Cash. Hah! Heh. Yeah.

Hee-haw and Merry Christmas,

June

More of your questions answered. Good gravy.

On Saturday, I had Ask June Anything Day, and yesterday I started answering the many pressing questions of your time. On today, I will answer more. Yes, I just said "on today."

Mary Ellen from Napa asked, Do you think you will stay in North Carolina? Is there anywhere else you are longing to move to and try out? Or did you burn through that in Seattle?

Jan asked this, too. I think I'll stay here, at least for the time being, because it's affordable, I own a cute house, and I love my job. If I didn't have all these kids, I might pack my bags and head to the West Coast again. I don't think I could afford Seattle anymore; it got fancy since the early '90s. But I might try anyway. I'd have never left Seattle had it not been for Marvin. I would never want to be 50 and single in LA. Good lord.

Kim in Texas asked, What is the last book you read that was not for work?

The Jane Austin Book Club. It was at my mother's. Eh. Girl book. One thing I have to say about Ned is he upped my reading repertoire. He read pretentious books and I began liking them more than I thought I would. He'd be furious if he heard me say his books were pretentious. But they were. He was such a slow reader, because most nights he worked, so I'd burn through them while he was still on chapter one.

Hulk asked, Why? Why didn't we give Zeke the ball more?

I ask myself that all the time, Hulk.

Caroline B asked, How many times a day do you have to sweep cat litter?

Once a day. I should probably do it more, but have you met me?

Greensboro Laurie asked, Did you get rid of your white Christmas tree before you left to spend your year abroad? When did you realize you had a disdain for the Christmas season? Any particular incident leave you with this feeling or just bah humbug in general to the holiday festivities?

Yes, I threw away that damn tree two years ago. It wasn't that old, but it was getting very droopy and you could see the pole, which I usually enjoy, but not in a tree. And it was shedding. Annoying. So the last two Xmases I slapped up a 15 dollar silver tree from Target.

This year I'm not doing a damn thing, for decorating. I put Xmas pictures up as my Facebook profile and banner. Done. And my Christmas hatred has grown over time. Not sure why. It's just so much pressure to do things I don't like doing: cooking, decorating, shopping. Bluch.

Jan had a million questions. Have you seen Ned? she wondered. Also, How's Marvin? Finally, marry, f*uck, kill… Ryan, Tall Boy, Dick Whitman.

Yes. I've seen Ned. Marvin is good; he's dating someone and she seems nice. I've not actually talked to her, but she also has not insisted I never mention Marvin on my blog, so lookin' sane! Plus she just looks likable when Marvin has photos of her on Facebook. As for fuck/marry/kill: Ryan, Tall Boy, Dick Whitman, in that order.

Outkast Lee asks, If I send you $19.95, will you tell me how to break into the lucrative, exciting and fulfilling field of proof-reading?

No. But feel free to send me $19.95 anyway.

Melvin wondered, As a proofreader, do you have to know all the documentation rules for APA, MLA , Chicago etc.? You must really like English!

Yes. And I do. I don't know why I picked this job, because as we all know, details are not my forte in any other walk of life. But there it is.

Oh, and the next comment was Melvin saying she's MELVIE, not Melvin. Melvin. heeeeee…

Barbfrommilwaukee asked, Will you take your trip to Hawaii in 2016??

I will if the person who offered it in the first place says, June, why don't you go to Hawaii this year? I should have gone in 2012, even though I literally had 150 bucks for the whole trip. God, I was destitute. How the hell did I do it?

Tricia wondered, Why did you decide to play Siri this Saturday?

I thought it would save me time. Look how THAT turned out.

Lee Una asked, What happened to The Fireman whom you dated a few times? Are the two of you still in touch?

Yes, we are still FB friends, if I'm not mistaken. He met someone about a year ago and seems fantastically happy. He was a good guy.

Anita asked, What are you plans for Christmas?

Precisely nothing. I plan to stay home and make lasagna and watch movies all day. Tell me you aren't just a little envious of me.

bettydh asked, Why do you get people to ask you questions? You know how they get!

I do. I do know how people get. But it's fine.

Jane said, I'm done with Sergio. He treats me like a ragdoll. She also asked, Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody really care?

Right now, it's 8:06 a.m., my time.

Missus B asked, What sound or noise do you love? What sound or noise do you hate?

I love a train far off in the distance, at night. It always sounds so mysterious. I also love those bugs in the summer that buzz. And thunder. And when a branch breaks during a winter storm–dramatic. Dramatic, and you know you have an official excuse not to go anywhere.

I hate leaf blowers and people who have no idea their laugh resonates throughout yonder. You always work with one asshole who doesn't realize this. I also hate the laughter of children. Okay, I'm making that up. Yesterday I was in my back room working with the screen door open because it was warm out, and I heard the kids in the corner yard and I smiled, which made me wonder what the hell is wrong with me and did the new antidepressants kick in.

PJ wondered if I was sick with worry that she was coming down with a cold.

No one likes a person who drones on about a cold, PJ. GOD.

Mrs. Gumby asked, How are the pets adjusting after their year abroad?

I think I answered this yesterday, but I'll answer again. All four of them absolutely knew where we were, and had zero trouble, so that's good. Iris was particularly happy to be in her back yard again, where way too many things got to live this past year. Not anymore, wildlife. Not anymore.

  IMG_6888
Iris, purr-pawing on my lap yesterday. She has her excited nose drip thing going on.

MTM/Phyllis. But really The Poet asked, If you were my nephew, would you rather receive a Star Wars Death Star Tea Infuser or a Star Wars R2-D2 Bento Lunch Box?

The Bento lunchbox.

Texas Kari asked, Have you worked on your book-to-blog project?

I have! Still not as much as I'd hoped to during my six weeks at Kaye's. I spent a lot of time at Kaye's crying on the bed till tears fell in my ears. But things are looking good in that department.

There are still six thousand questions to answer, and who should have said time's up and never did. Was it me? I'll answer the rest tomorrow, and in the meantime, here's my latest Purple Clover.

Your answer gal,

Juuuuuuuuune

Your questions answered. My textbook procrastinated.

A real grownup, such as, say, my stepfather, would have gotten up early and done today's statistics textbook proofreading already. However, hello. Have we met? I stayed up till 1:30 and just crawled out of bed. Now I'm blogging at you, and stay tuned for June's-panic-about-her-textbook posts in about a week. I know I said that yesterday. I will probably say that all week until it's time for June's panic-about-her-textbook posts.

Anyway, yesterday we had an Ask June Anything Day, and today I will answer your pressing Qs forthwith. …There are, apparently, 60 questions y'all asked yesterday, a thing I just noticed as I just looked at my blog for the first time. Not ever. But since I posted yesterday. Your questions came to me in email form, and I thought they were manageable, but maybe not. I'll answer SOME today and some tomorrow. What say you? Don't answer that.

Kate wondered, What are you going to do that makes you smile this weekend? Other than counting your potential dollars made per hour?

I didn't do much, so far, other than proofread. And remember when I had A COLD a few weeks back? Just when that one was clearing up, I got another cold, and that one is just going away, then last night my throat started hurting. GODDAMMIT. So the weekend has been proofreading a textbook, although it's nice out here, so I've been doing it in the back yard with the dogs. The dogs are excellent proofreaders.

d-lou inquired, How can you put 1000 Island dressing on your Big Boy? Would you ever move back to Michigan?

I put 1000 Island on my Big Boy sandwich because that's the way God and all the saints intended it, d-lou. Read your Bible. It's in Elias 4:17.

Also, I don't think so. I'd like to be around my family more, as I like them and all, but the weather, man. And the weathermen. Aren't the Weathermen the people who sang It's Raining Men? Also, the men. Michigan men are not my type. I realize I lost my virginity to a Michigan man, and the great love of my life for many decades was a Michigan man, and I married a Michigan man. But two out of three of those men left Michigan. So.

"Elias 4:17" was only funny if you're from Michigan.

Sapphire Anastasia pondered, Can we send in pictures from our Christmas this year and you post them?

No.

Nellie asked, Do you know Marvin's ex-girlfriend is getting married?I did! But the only reason I know that is because ANOTHER reader told me. It kills me that y'all know who she is and what she's up to. I wish her no ill will. Really. I'm sure reading a whole nine-year diatribe on someone she liked was hard. Of course, she could have just abstained from reading, but what woman among us could have resisted?

Just me, Vee asked, Why do camptown ladies sing this song "doo dah, doo, dah"? And what are camptown ladies?I feel like they're sluts. But maybe I'm just turning into my grandmother again, calling all women sluts. I feel like doo dah, doo dah is a euphemism for douching. But maybe I'm crazy.

I have a funny doo dah story. See, this is why I should not proofread statistics textbooks in my spare time. Anyway, my friend comes from a large family, many of whom are very conservative Christians. My friend is not. My friend is, in fact, gay as a goose. It was Xmas Eve, and my friend and his equally no-longer-religious sister were in the back seat, as adults, riding to church with their parents. Since they were both unmarried, they were still stuck riding to church with mom and dad as though they were 12 years old.

"When we get back, your brother's kids have a song they've written and want to sing for all of us," my friend's beleaguered mom told them.

My friend and his sister exchanged glances. The brother was the religiousest of all the siblings, and he was pretty judge-y about it.

"We are Christians, you are not. Doo dah, doo dah," my friend sang quietly to his sister.

"We are Christians you are not, all the doo dah day," sang the sister.

"We are Christians, yay! You are Christians, nay," sang my friend, getting giggly.

"You are going to hell someday, we're gonna be okay," sang the sister, and that is when I fell in love with the sister.

Since you and N love each other to the ends of the earth and back, what happened? communication? too different lifestyle wants and needs? not enough alone time? too much sharing????

I like how she calls him N, like I can't see the whole name without falling apart. This is tricky, because I do still love Ned and do not wish to spread his bidness all over yonder. It wouldn't bother me a bit, but he wouldn't like that. But suffice it to say there was, indeed, something insurmountable that meant we couldn't be together anymore.

And it was none of the above choices. Nothing like that. We loved living together and our wants and needs were similar. That's what's so difficult. 90% was good. But the 10% that wasn't was, again, insurmountable.

Carol in Mpls wondered, Sometime, early in the new year, can we do show & tell pictures of our pets?

No. You guys have Pie on the Face! It's the perfect place to do this, because then I won't lose anyone's photo. And I won't get the sad-face emoticon comment when I forget it.

 
My friend-in-real-life, Dot, asked, Where are the Snowdens of yesteryear?
 
Oh my god, shut up. Love, June.
 
Angie inquired, Since you've been blogging, so you still journal? Do the journal and blog have mostly the same stuff? Does the journal cover stuff you can't talk about on the blog because it's other people's lives or stuff about your own that you don't want to share? Is your journal as fun to read as your blog?
 
I do still keep a journal, and no, it's not the same stuff at all. Mostly this past year it's been angsty stuff about Ned, and no, it's no fun to read at all. It's all my sad clown shit.
 
Inquiring (or is it enquiring) minds want to know asked, Why does each chapter be on an odd-numbered page?
 
In books, even-numbered pages are on the left; they're also called verso pages. Recto, or right-sided pages, are on the right. If you notice, all book chapters, or pretty much all, start on the right side, not the left. So.
 
LinCA wondered, 1.Does your old neighborhood seem the same when you take the dogs for a walk (have you seen the same gaggle of little girls that like your dogs?). 2. Do your pets like the move…or don't really care….? 3. Do you recommend online dating or is it a weirdo magnet?

My neighbor Paul died, which is sad. His house is empty and lonely-looking. Also, I have a new neighbor in the back–just introduced myself to her yesterday. I asked about the woman who USED to live back there, and she said THAT neighbor died, too, quite suddenly, and then she moved in. With Paul, the across-the-street woman who died a few years back and now the woman behind me, I am Angela Lansbury of my hood.

 
The pets knew exactly where they where and there was not one minute of anxiety from any of them, fortunately. There's a whole new dog in the kitty-corner yard in back that my curs bark bark bark bark bark at, and I'm sure everyone loves that we have returned. I DO call them in when they start that goddamn barking. And by "they" I mean mostly Edsel. Lu barks when there's something to bark at, but often I look back there and Eds is in the middle of the yard, his snout in the air, just barking at the sky. Eds can be a real dick.
 
I DO recommend online dating. You have to stick it out, though. You have to slog through 86 messages from StiffStick69 till you meet a real person, but via online dating I met Dick Whitman, the Fireman, Daniel Boone (okay, I know), Tall Boy and Ned. So.
 
Lisa. Not that Lisa pondered, Who's your favorite Persistenf Reader?
I wonder what a presistenf reader is. That was a total Marvin answer.
 
Dad of Frank and Zoe asked, Y?
MCA.
 
darla asked, Who is your presidential candidate of choice so far?
 
Donald Trump. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Hoo! Oh! heh.
 
Bernie Sanders. Hey, maybe I'll be like Oprah when she endorsed Obama. My influencer voice will be heard throughout the land and Bernie Sanders will have me over to the White House for mashed potatoes and mac and cheese.
 
Nancy in CA wondered, You seem to make new friends so easily everywhere you go. How do you do it? And once you start a conversation, how do you go from a pleasant conversation to going for coffee or doing other friend things together?
 
I have no idea. I guess it's because I don't care if I seem weird. And most times, I think I seem weird. I just get up my courage and ask people to do stuff, because what's the worst that could happen? Remember how I was on OK Cupid for six minutes and gave up? I met a nice man on there, and he seems clearly not interested in me romantically, but I said, Hey, why don't we be new-breakup friends and hang out that way? He said sure. If he'd have said no, what was I gonna do, kill myself? So.
 
Deb who is back to being Deb asked, If you read other blogs, which are your favorites?>I don't. Isn't that awful? I check in on Dooce every six months, but that's it.
 
We have a billionty more Qs, which I will answer tomorrow. I thought you guys didn't even LOOK at my ass on a Saturday. Geez.
 
Thanks for the Qs! Do you like how I keep calling them Qs?

Ask June Anything Day

I spent much of last night working on my statistics textbook, and I am doing so again today. I can't even remember what I charge these people, but I keep adding up what I at least must be making so far, as I used to when I was babysitting. Fortunately, it's more than a dollar an hour for proofing a (riveting) statistics textbook.

By the way, so far I've looked at the book for four hours and haven't read one page. You know people who say, "Oh, a proofreader! I love to read!" Yeah. This book is 500 pages. So far…

  • I've looked at each individual page number to make sure they're all there.
  • I've looked at each chapter in the table of contents and made sure it's exactly the same as the chapter titles on the real pages–capitalization, spelling, punctuation.
  • I've also made sure the TOC are accurate. If the TOC says Chapter 7 is on page 54, is it really on page 53?
  • Then I made sure each new chapter was on an odd-numbered page.
  • Then I looked at each chapter heading and made sure they all looked exactly the same–same size, same font, same placement on the page.
  • Then I did the same for all the tables in the book. Same rule sizes, same italicizing.

That took four hours.

Proofreading. Because you love to read.

So because you know how I am and how I will be willing and able to waste SIX MONTHS blogging today, Ima go. Today only, we'll have Ask June Anything day. Between now and this evening, my time, whenever I feel like coming back and saying time's up, I will read and then answer any and all Qs and honestly as I can. Even mean ones.

Since four people read this on Saturday, I'm not that worried about it.

Luff,

Chi-square June (that's a statistics thing. I have no idea what it is, but I see that word constantly in these books. I figure it's a square where you can drink tea)

Your dog is not a person. But she does leave photo captions.

This morning I woke up and felt like I was getting a cold. "You realize you're always getting a cold, right?" asked Ned.

I AM NOT! Okay, maybe I kind of always am. BUT THIS TIME IT'S REAL.

Anyway, today I'm going to answer more of your questions that you asked me now 16 years ago.

Sherry from TX asked,

How long did it take you and Slutty Pancakes to walk 2.6 miles?

I don't know; less than an hour. We walked the entire hour yesterday, and Slutty had a sprained ankle, and it was three and a half miles, or something. Are we thin yet?

Wait. Did I already answer that? Good gravy.

PSS asked,

What makes for a good home for a dog? We want to adopt this year, but I have such trepidation.

We have no experience with pet ownership, are away from home all day, are dealing with the distraction of a kid who isn't well, and we want to travel more. My kids and I desperately crave the love and companionship and feel a dog will bring us joy, but are we being selfish? Are we good candidates?

I say, unless you're going to literally be gone for 16 hours a day or something, get a dog and work it out. Hire a dog walker or take 'em to day care. Dogs need homes, and frankly, we're all getting so weird about them. Oh, he needs an ORTHOPEDIC bed! He needs an always-flowing water fountain!

He's a dog. He eats poop and sleeps on the gravel driveway by choice. He's not a person. Let me repeat that.

Your dog is not a person.

Get a dog.

Vic asked,

I think Ned either works for the NC department of transportation or the phone company. Am I warm?

Hah! No. He works for his family's business. Ned is in organized crime.

TXPeach asked,

Did you miss Facebook when you took your hiatus at Lent?

You know, no. Not so much. The LAST time I gave it up, the very day I got back on there, there was drama. Then this time, sure, some days I was bored and wished I could peruse Facebook, but day one. DAY ONE. Drama again. On stupid Facebook. So, maybe FB isn't such a good place for me. I feel like I need to be on it to promote this blog and my articles, but why do I even need to promote those? You all know they exist.

Amish Annie asked,

I haven't walked or worked out in two years and I'm still not thin. Am I doing something wrong, June?

Life is not fair. If a man even THOUGHT about walking, he'd shed seven pounds. If he walked to the store to buy walking shoes, he'd be a size four by the time he crossed the parking lot.

Kelly asked,

1. What's your middle name?

2. If you could only eat one kind of food for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Michelle. Because 1965 called. I don't think June Gardens has a middle name, does she? Unless I've been all "Call me June Sports Gardens" or "June Rational Gardens, over here." That sort of thing.

Strawberries. I could eat strawberries till I grew seeds.

Oh. I see I answered that in the comments the other day:

"JUNE'S middle name, or my real middle name? I think June's middle name would be Fuck Natural, but my real middle name is Michelle. And strawberries."

At least I'm consistent.

I also already answered this one:

TexasGirl:

What will Don Draper be doing at the end of Mad Men??

June Gardens said in reply to TexasGirl…

I hope me.

Tammi V.V. asked,

If you could live anywhere on earth right now, where would it be? If you could live anywhere at anytime on earth, when and where would it be?

Somewhere warm and beachy that had a lot of cool old houses. I'd like a screened porch that overlooked said beach. And Paris in the 1920s.

Cyn in FL- asked,

What's one question you'd ask Howard Stern?

I think I'd want to know what really went wrong in his marriage, and why does his first wife seem to hate him so much. I think it's pretty cheeky to be resentful of someone when you're enjoying his millions.

LisaPie asked,

Do you think Siren will ever come back to us?

Siren was a really cool, very interesting young girl who used to read this blog and comment here, and she was great. We all loved her. Maybe too much. I have talked to her and she isn't mad at us or anything, but she just went on to other things, I think. I also miss Matze, this hilarious foreign guy who read this blog and left great comments.

I have to go. It's late and I haven't showered, plus also this cold. This impending cold. At least you know if this DOES turn out to be a cold, I will be stoic about it and you won't hear a thing more on the topic.

I leave you with this:

IMG_3574

Talu do Edzul impresh

Probe June

My new iPhone will not make phone calls. Which, I know everyone forgets that smartphones are supposed to be PHONES for making CALLS, but that's what smartphones are. Just a little reminder from June. And I actually call people, still. So a phone that, oh, can be used as a phone would be nice. Does it seem like I am ALWAYS having trouble with phones?

The guy at AppleCare finally said, "This is beyond me" and I got to speak to some guru on a mountain somewhere. He couldn't fix it, either, so now I have to call AT&T. I'm sure that will be brief and un-hold-y.

In the meantime, tonight we're going to Chris and Lilly's to fish and have dinner, not that we'll be eating any fish we caught, although that'd be very farm-to-table of us. But you know I like to go there in the spring, although they've technically moved from the farm to a house across the street. So there may actually be no baby chicks in my evening. Unless we eat them.

But anyway, I am here, now, writing to you, and look how in the moment June is. (pfft.) I thought I'd answer more of the questions you had for me the other day. I hope they involve fishing tips, because apparently I'll be able to give those. You know, I HAVE been fishing BEFORE. I like fishing. No one ever thinks I like to do anything outdoorsy, and you all forget that time I climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro.

MissusB asked…

What is the one thing you really want to accomplish before you either become too old to do it, or die?

(Ned is in the bathroom and just exclaimed, "Goll-LEE," like he's Gomer Pyle. "What's wrong, Ned?" "Bunch of goddamn hair in this drain is what's wrong," groused Ned. He should really cut his hair. Is what I think.)

Wait, did we already answer this question last time? I can't remember. For me, whenever anyone talks about something they want to do before they die, it always involves athletics. Run a marathon, bike Mt. Kilimanjaro, whatever. And I've already done those. So I guess write a book. Kiss a leopard. I think I already did this Q. God forbid I go look.

Sherry from TX asked…

How long did it take you and SP to walk 2.6 miles?

Slutty Pancakes and I are allegedly walking during our workdays now, although this week it rained like a mug and has been impossible. Last week we waked 2.6 miles at lunchtime, at a blistering 16-minute mile. You do the math. I mean, literally, you do the math, because you know how I am.

Jen V said…

How is Lily? Has Tina Doris' ghost ever returned?

Lilly is excellent. You want me to go find her and photograph her in her element? Ima take a wild stab and assume she's on the bed. Hang on.

IMG_3335I was wrong. I could be like Fonzie and say I was wrr. Wrrrr. Remember how he could not say he was wrong? No wonder Pinkie Tuscadero left him.

Anyway. Lily was on the rug in the hall with Iris. She usually has a routine where she sits on me at night in the living room, then comes to bed with me till Ned comes to bed, then he summarily removes her fluffy ass from the room, till morning, when she goes back on the bed all day. She's an active cat. Last week she biked Mt. Kilimanjaro so she could fish off the top.

IMG_3333Tallulah's in here with me, apparently feeling coquettish. She's still my blog muse.

IMG_3337NedKitty's on top of the wardrobe, as she is wont to be. In a few weeks, she'll be 15. You'd never know it. Bitch be cray. She'd be one of those old people who goes to Studio 54 and swims Mt. Kilimanjaro every day.

Dear June, There is no Studio 54 anymore. 1979 ended a long time ago. Love, The World.

NedKitty and Iris had a big fight last night, for a position on the bookshelf. They both like to sit on the bookshelf, and Iris got up there when NedKitty was already there, and they had a big bitchslap fest till finally this happened.

IMG_3329Cat standoff.

Oh my god, you answered the question, June. Oh! But yes! Tina Doris' ghost HAS returned. TD? Tell us about it in the comments.

PJ asked…

In an unfamiliar locale, would you rather drive or navigate?

Drive. Because someone else has to navigate. My grandmother had the arthritis, and she'd say, "I can't hardly navigate." Me, either. And I don't have arthritis. Well, technically I do, in one knee, the same knee she'd rub absentmindedly while she watched her stories. Not that I had my grandmother's knee put in, but in a way, I did.

Oh my god, you've answered the question, June.

LaUral asked…

What age do you want to look?

If you had $1 million and had to spend it, what would you spend it on?

Five places in the world you want to see before you die?

I'd like to look 25. Is that too much to ask? Okay, what if people said, "God, you look 30!" Nothing wrong with wanting to look 30, is there? If I had a million dollars, I'd spend it on plastic surgery to look 30. I just asked Ned, "If I had a million dollars, what would I spend it on?" "Me," he said.

That was funny. Then he said, "You'd spend it on eye makeup and mashed potatoes." God, he knows me. Plus, there's my eternal life's quest to find the perfect lipstick and purse. Once I found those things, I'll probably die the next day.

As for five places I want to see, one of them would be Barry Gibb's junk, then four baby leopard heads. …Do you mean locales? Travel makes me nervous. A beach with pink sand, maybe New Zealand because that's interesting, maybe Italy because I'm hungry, oh and New York! I've never been to New York. Is that five? Because I have to go. I have to get in the shower so I can go to work. We're having massages at work today. I'm signed up at 1:40. Do not let me forget. You know I'll forget.

Okay, bye. I'll call you later. Oh. Wait…

Ask June. Old School.

Am 100% totally late because of Ned. We have a busy day planned: Tonight we're going to a Scrabble tournament with Marty Martin and Kayeeee, because nerds. Then at 10:30 tonight, the Louis CK show comes back on, and I am beside myself. Then I will be exhausted from going to bed that late.

Yesterday at lunch I walked 2.6 miles with Slutty Pancakes, and we are annoyed that we aren't thin yet.

So see? What normally would take me 6,7094 words has taken me, like, 75.

Since I have to go, why don't we have an old favorite: Ask June. Go ahead. Ask me anything. Advice, pressing questions about my life, my views on geography and map reading, anything.

6a00e54f9367fb8834017744d4a3bb970d-800wiYu rully want to go dere, mom?

Yes, mom do. Because mom late and have to scream out a post. 

Love,

Jooooon

June manages her lunch.

This morning, I alerted you that I was running late, for a change, because I embrace the morning, and I asked you what I should write about when I come home at lunch. I was expecting more: "Write about THIS topic, Joooon" and I got really sort of more, "Here are some Qs we have for you, Joooon." So let me bang this mother out as best I can by answering the questions I see before me.

PJ wondered what accomplishment makes me the most proud, and I've answered before that running ("running." hah!) a marathon is number one for me. Because, you know, it was a marathon. I really enjoyed it when people asked, "One of those 26-mile ones?"

Sigh.

PJ also wonders about the oldest piece of clothing I have, and let's all pause to consider what a freak PJ is. I still have my wedding veil, and oh! A yellow Izod sweater I bought in 1988. I still wear it. It's a yellow V-neck.

PJ ALSO wonders if I ever lost a job due to quirkiness, and not technically, but I did have a boss who did not like me. She hired me because I am an extrovert and she thought it'd balance her introversion but really what happened is I just irked the shit out of her. Unfortunately I heard her saying this, so I talked to her about it and we tried to work though it but eventually I quit that job because working for someone who finds you awful is sort of agony.

Maryanne asks what the worst job is I ever had, and please see this fine Purple Clover article detailing just that.

PJ, who I am starting to think needs a hobby, wondered how to act if she saw me in a restaurant. One option she listed was could she squee and scream, "IT'S JUNE!" and that's the one I like. Who WOULDN'T want someone to squee because they'd been sighted? I mean, unless I was headed in to Hal's House of STD Treatments or something.

Jeanie wanted to know if Edsel is still training for a half-marathon, as he was my running partner when I was training. He is currently curled up on the floor next to me right now, fast asleep, but if you offered him a 13-mile run, I feel like he would take it and never slow down. As for me? Nope. I will not run ever again. My ankle is STILL effed up.

Talu, by the way, is sitting on the other side of me, and I would like to state right now that her smell is not good. I am thinking a Talu bath may be on the agenda this weekend.

TX Peach and some other readers wanted to hear about last night's pool hall extravaganza. It went like this. Ned got his hair cut, then came to my house right after and we screamed on over to said pool hall, where my coworkers were already half in the bag. No one but Ned wanted to play pool and I offered to take lessons to please him, and he rolled his eyes at me because apparently there's no such thing as pool lessons. Then at about 8:00, he took me home. The end.

Amish Annie wanted a story about my lifelong friend Pal from MA. Once it was Pal's birthday, she was turning five. She and I wore pink dresses and headed to Bill Knapp's, which is this wonderful restaurant chain that is now gone and I hate everything. They give you a whole chocolate cake for your birthday and Bing Crosby sings on the overhead and there's a candle shaped like your age.

My point is, Pal gets her cake and her song and we all clap and some yahoo comes to the table and looks at Pal and me in our pink dresses. "Aren't they cute," she said. Pal announced it was her bday, because attention whore. The woman again exclaims how cute we are and asks, "Are they twins?"

Even at age four and five, we totally rolled our eyes at each other. Really, if you wanted to sum up our 45 years of friendship, it could be summed up in, "They rolled their eyes at each other."

Are they twins. What a maroon.

Amish A also noted that Ned seems so well-adjusted and wonders why. I agree that he is, and I also know of times he's told himself, "I'm going to stop being [insert neurotic or bad trait here]" and he's actually stuck with it. This is one of the things I love about Ned. I have great admiration for Ned, really. Anyway, I wrote and told him about AA's comment and he wrote back that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. So maybe on the inside Ned is a screeching screaming nutbar.

So that sums up what you asked me. There were other Qs but I addressed them in the comments of the last post. One reader said she's ready for a Tallulah guest post, and I just told her and here's her response.

Photo on 2-7-14 at 12.55 PMlu delite

I have no idea why I look so red in that photo. I don't in real life. But I like how there's a photo in back of me embracing Talu, with me embracing Talu in the foreground.

Photo on 2-7-14 at 1.00 PM #5I took a photo with Eds to see if I look red in that picture, and I do. Why so red?

Blushingly,

June

June tells you about bad dates and marrying her friend Tank

In case anyone is worried sick, I'm on page 198 of that statistics book. Only 102 more pages left! Oh, and could someone stab me in the head? Thanks.

However, I have returned to address more of your "Here's what you should blog about, June" comments from the other day, probably 70 statistics pages ago. I'm like a Native American, over here. Instead of telling the time by moons I'm using statistics pages. Ugh.

See what I did, there? I said "Ugh." A little Indian humor, if you will. Sioux me.

Okay. Here are more of your topics you'd like me to address.

Who would you have over for dinner, living or dead?

I'd probably invite someone dead, because they'd be easier to cook for. Remind me to tell you about Ned and me failing at brownies this weekend. It took two kitchens and 36 hours, and still we failed. We're thinking of opening up a restaurant together, maybe call it Fail. You go in, order something, and order in Chinese for you. Any profit we make goes to muscular dystrophy. What say you?

Oh. And Ned wants me to clarify that that terrible story he told about stealing from children with MD happened when he was 8 or 9, tops. By 11 he was already in a gang knocking over 7-Elevens, I guess.

Speaking of which, my high school boyfriend Cardinal, who has NEVER ONCE been a good influence on me, said to me the other day, "Have you been watching Orange is the New Black?" I hadn't. And now I abhor Cardinal. Because do you know who has a statistics book due in its entirety this week? Do you? Do you know who needs to get on it? And do you know who is COMPLETELY OBSESSED NOW with the show Orange is the New Black? Oh, that show is riveting.

Seriously. He's never been a good influence. He's the one who introduced me to delicious sloe gin and Pepsi. He gave me my first Cadbury egg. He said, "Here's an Edie Brickell tape" and I spent the next decade listening to sad hippie songs. It was he who said, "Come up to my room. It's cooler there" when his parents were out of town one summer day.

Cardinal. Hmph. Oh my god I'll never get through your topics.

Eff, Marry Kill, June. Hulk, Tank, Marty Martin?

Eff Marry Kill is a game Howard Stern plays, and Faithful Reader Jan knows how I am about Howard Stern, and that of COURSE I'd know this game. Okay. I'd kill Hulk, with pleasure. I'd marry Tank, because he's a devoted husband. And I'd eff Marty Martin because he's left over. I know his girlfriend reads my blog, and Kayeeeee, please don't beat me up. It's just a game.

She also asked me Eff Marry Kill about three characters on Howard Stern, and Jan: Eff Jackie.

What would constitute your perfect week? Who'd you be with and what would you be doing?

Ned.

What was the best date you've ever been on and what was the worst?

I can think of two good worst-date stories. In about 1988, this fancy attorney asked me out. I was 22 and a bartender. I went out and got an adorable outfit I could not afford from Jacobsen's (cream-color croppy sweater with big buttons up the back. Hey, it was 1988. Black miniskirt, black high heels, and long huge black-and-cream earrings. Again, NINETEEN EIGHTY-EIGHT). He got to my house having already been drinking.

He took me to a fancy restaurant in town, and before we went in, he told me this was a lawyer hangout and that I was to walk in on his arm. Like, he was instructing me to grab his arm. "And I think we should kiss before we go in."

"I don't wanna kiss," I said. This pissed him off. I did take his arm when we went in, God knows why, and believe it or not, people would come to the table and say, "Oh, she's a pretty one" like I was his new Sarah Coventry charm bracelet.

I just cracked my own self up. Sarah Coventry. Oh my god.

Anyway, he was still mad about the lack of kissage, and he said, "I really shouldn't have asked you out. I mean, you're white trash. But you're so pretty."

Now, see. Today? I'd have walked out. Called a cab. Called my mother. Something. Instead I ordered the most expensive thing on the menu and ate none of it. He got so drunk during dinner that I was afraid when he drove me home.

Good times! We dated for a year. No. That was it. I heard he went to the bar where I bartended after the date, because let me tell you, he needed a drink to unwind at that juncture. He told everyone it didn't work out.

White trash. What a dick.

Oh, and the other bad date was the one I had early last year, when the guy decided he wanted to be exclusive–with someone else. So he texted her at the table. Yeah.

Best date? Ned.

What was the best vacation you ever went on?

A few years back, my pal Sleeping Beauty was coming to the Outer Banks here in NC. She was renting a house with a bunch of other people and asked me to join her. The morning I was to get there, she called me. "There is a child here who's throwing up. I know this means you can't come." It was true. You know how I am about throwing-up things. 

But I looked around online and found this room in a 1950s hotel nearby, and it had a little kitchenette, and was right on the water, and it was perfect. Perfect! Sleeping would ride her bike the mile to my place, we'd spend the day on the beach or looking around the town–one day we went to a lighthouse–and it was perfect. I got my alone time and I got to enjoy the beach and Sleeping. Plus, I was really thin then, so.

6a00e54f9367fb88340115710f5367970b-800wi
6a00e54f9367fb883401157021ceef970c-800wiWhatever happened to that purse? I liked that purse.

All right, I'd better go get ready for work. I only have six thousand more topics that you sent me, so stay tuned for more! Oh, and I have a new Purple Clover article out.

Ask Dick Whitman’s Mom

Some of you who've been around this stupid blog for some time may remember a feature I had on Fridays called Ask June. You'd, you know, ask me things and I'd answer them. I forget why we stopped doing it; I probably just kind of got over it, much like how the last time I awarded comment of the week was when I chose Alexander Graham Bell for his riveting, "Mr. Watson, come here. I need you."

But we're gonna have a special feature next week, a Very Special Bye Bye Pie, if you will. Dick Whitman's mom has agreed to be asked stuff.

220980_1971026564241_1276489_oDick Whitman, featured above (no, no, NO. That's DW's mom. I know, right? You adore her already), is a friend of mine who for the first few months I knew him would talk about his mom all the time. He'd quote her and brag about her and it wasn't too long before I said. "I wanna meet your mom."

Then he kept NOT introducing me to her. "I WANT TO MEET YOUR MOM," I said again, knowing I would adore her. Whitman hawed and he hemmed and he finally got us together last year on Thanksgiving weekend. THANKSgiving, as they pronounce it here.

DWMWhen I met her, she said, "You know, I hesitated to meet you." So see? It wasn't even Dick Whitman's doing that kept us apart. "I don't like to interfere in my children's lives, so I didn't want to meet any women DW was involved with."

"Oh, but I don't count!" I said, ignoring the two torrid months of hot romance Dick Whitman and I had had that summer. Okay, Dick Whitman and I saw a couple movies and had brunch at a fancy place once. That's about as torrid as it got. Then we broke up and stayed friends. They should make a movie about that. An Affair to Kind of Forget Because We're Much Better as Friends. Would you pay to see that movie?

My point is, I liked how she didn't want to get all up in DW's business. That she left him to his own devices. Then she gave BOTH of us the advice that neither of us should date anyone seriously until we'd been separated for a year. And you know, we both followed that advice. DW met his girlfriend right at about the year mark, and I didn't get exclusive with …friend until two months ago. Which may or may NOT have been my idea, the not-exclusive-till-May thing. But I can complain about that on a different day.

(Ooooo, it burned me up. How could you NOT want ALL THIS exclusively from date number one? How could you see the WHOLE JUNE PACKAGE and not be worried sick some millioniare would snatch me up while you explored your options or whatever? For the record, …friend never used that horrid "explore my options" phrase, which is a polite way of saying, "I'm gonna see if someone hotter comes along." Isn't that right, TALL BOY? But I'm not bitter.)

MY POINT IS–and didn't I already say that?–DW's mom was right. I had to go through a whole litany of phases that first year after I was separated. There was the YAY I'M FREE!! euphoria, there was the YAY I LOVE A HORRID PERSON! phase, there was the YAY I MADE A HORRIBLE MISTAKE! phase, there was the EVERYTHING SUCKS phase, there was the OKAY GLAD I AM SINGLE BUT KIND OF HATE IT phase and now there's finally the Oh, okay. And look! Here's a nice person I could like, maybe phase.

I finally got into a lowercase phase.

I never forgot DW's mom's advice, and let's face it. Girlfriend has been around longer than most of us, and was happily married for 495854839393 years, and snagged a hottie.

Dwdad(Okay, this was the only photo I could find of DW's dad. Dick Whitman has a GREAT veeedeo of his dad on his Facebook page, but I don't know if you can capture a photo from veedeo. Anyway, you're gonna have to trust me. Dick Whitman is cute, right? Genes, man. They aren't just a good idea. This is DW as a toddler. He is waving at me because I'm off to the side with my cell phone, capturing this moment for Bye Bye 1960 Pie.)

Anyway. We who read my comments adore Dick Whitman's mom, and we know she's funny and we know she gots her the wisdom, so if you wanna ask her anything? About life, your hair, drawer liners, what her favorite commercial is, how she feels about horses, does she prefer the Euro or the dollar, anything at all, ask here in the comments and sometime next week she will answer the Qs she feels like answering. She's DW's mom, dudes. She can do what she wants.

So go ahead. Ask Dick Whitman's Mom.

Ask June. Back and better than ever.

Really, it's kind of the same and not better than ever. I just wanted to be honest with you.

But hey, before we begin, let's throw in the Obligatory Henry Shot:

Henry

Who's my little fuzzy kitten head? Who is nice when he's asleep and a total ass patty when he's awake? Is it our Hen Hen Hen of Hen-y town?

Let's depart from Hen-y town and pad on over to the questions.

Patty asks, When I write an e-mail to someone and say something like, "Just wanted to say hi," I never know whether to put the "hi" in quotes. Technically I guess I'm SAYING "hi," but it looks so dorky to type, "Just wanted to say, 'hi.'" Your thoughts?

Dear Patty,

I'm just answering to say "no."

Yeah, really, no. I mean, it's overkill. When I proofread depositions, court reporters were forever wanting to quote stuff like that. But keep in mind I worked with one reporter who wrote "pre-Madonna" when she meant prima donna. So I pretty much ignored what the court reporters wanted and did my own thing.

Hmm. I wonder why I kept losing court reporters as clients…

Denise, who's over there in Las Vegas just whooping it up, wonders, It isn't "less calories," is it? I think it is "fewer calories." Likewise I heard something today about an "amount" of people. Do they mean like 2 tons of people? It should be "number" of people.

I cannot recall if I told all of you that I wrote to one of the cable channels because their credo is "More Movies, Less Commercials."

See, it's stuff like that that makes me never want to watch that channel again.

You use the word "fewer" with stuff you can actually count one at a time. Like commercials, or words, or calories. You use "less" with those gassy nebulous items that you can't count one-by-one, like oxygen, or stuff, or crap. 

And THAT is why it should be "Ten items or fewer" at the grocery store. You can count how many items you have. But seeing as I'm always behind that heifer with 27 items in the express lane, maybe not everyone CAN count their groceries.

As for your deep concern about the amount of people over at your slot machine, Denise, according to Merriam-Webster, "amount" means the total number. So I think it'd be okay to say the amount of people. Am I wrong? Does anyone know something I don't? I mean, in general. Tell us what you know that I don't. Do you know how to change your oil? Do you know how to get the dog to stop pulling at her leash? Do you know how to go under water without plugging your nose?

I don't know any of those things.

Getting back to Denise in Las Vegas, do you get sick of everyone thinking you gamble just because you live in Las Vegas, Denise?

What are the odds I'm gonna leave this topic alone?

Okay, I guess I have Asked June enough. But before you go, please note that I did go to Anthropologie tonight and buy that perfume I talked about in my last post.

Vanille 

So, did anyone notice that I kept calling it Vanilla Bourbon and yet bourbon is nowhere in the title? I think Vanilla Bourbon is my old OLD vanilla perfume, the one I wore in the '90s in Seattle. Or maybe I just drank a lot of bourbon. I don't know, dawg.

Anyway, delighted to have my vanilla-not-bourbon perfume back in my home. And who is jamming out to my Love's Baby Soft?

Okay, here goes June. Trying hard. But soft will make his lovelight shi-i-ine.

No, wait! (Oh, dear. I'm like that guest who won't leave.) I did want to say one more thing about yesterday's post, where we all said what our heaven would smell like.

Years back, someone did a survey about what smells remind us of our childhood. People born in the '20s and '30s said hay, grass, rain, stuff like that. People born in the '60s and '70s said crayons, Play-Doh, new dolls. All our scents were manufactured. So many people yesterday said their heaven would smell like crayons. It reminded me of that survey.

Okay, really leaving now.

Saturday (horn) in the park (horn) I think we’d better get to Ask Junnne (horn horn horn horn)

We are mixing it up this week, having Ask June on Saturday instead of Friday. Ask June likes to keep things wild and unpredictable. I know your teeth are vibrating.

Menlu

Also plus, Ask June, her spouse, and her dog are headed to a state park today, so she has to kind of stampede through the questions. Ask June is not at all thinking about being eaten by a panther or falling off a cliff today or anything. Because Ask June is so able to relax and enjoy herself, ever.

So let's hang over at a potentially posthumous Ask June, shall we?

Bonnie wonders, "Do you have a favorite grammar book? My favorite is 'Woe is I'…"

Ask June knows she seems as though she were the type to sit around reading grammar books, but in fact she is not. Ask June did read the dictionary the summer she was 10, so she understands she was headed that way. Until she discovered boys and wine.

Confused Grizzly queries, "I was very impressed with your affect/effect explanation. Do you have one for which is bear is bare? I'm not sure I can bear or bare to hear the answer."

Ask June knows she seems like she'd have a pithy way to remember bare or bear, but she does not. I guess you could always think, "I can't bear to go bare." How about that? (And as a reminder, if you can use "alter" in the sentence, the word is affect. Remember a with a.)

Tee frets, "How is Francis doing? Poor baby."

Tee asked this question back in January, when poor Fran had a kidney stone. But he is doing well, Tee, for an angry 690-pound, 12-year-old cat. I think he had another one in March, but it too did pass.

Carrie asks, "Don't you think it would be fun to have a luncheon with all your Michigan readers the next time you're in town?"

Let Ask June tell you something about when she goes back to Michigan, Carrie. Ask June lived there for the first 27 years of her life, and therefore formed a lot of close bonds and Gold Bond Medicated Powder. And her family and her husband's family all live there. Whenever Ask June returns to the Mitten State, she is booked like Maria Carey was right before she had that breakdown where she came out with the food cart on MTV. Ask June has gotten to the point where she does not say on her blog that she is returning to Michigan, lest she get 952 "You're coming back for 17 hours for a wedding?! Let's get together at some point!!" messages. (But please don't stop wanting to see me, friends in the Mitten State. Ask June kind of enjoys the chaos when she is back.)

But yeah, that does sound kind of fun, actually. Particularly the idea of a "luncheon." Will Hanna Gruen be serving it to Ned Nickerson and Nancy Drew?

Shannon ponders, "Do word scrambles/searches drive you insane because it's just not right or do you strive to solve the mystery?"

Ask June knows she seems like the kind of person who would do word scrambles and such, but she is not. That said, lately Marvin printed out several word searches for his students because it was the end of the year and apparently he was over teaching, and he got irate because I would often take them and do them, when he was going to use that printout to make copies at work. Ask June say relax. And help her find "poignant" backwards and sideways while you're up.

That wraps up another compelling episode of Ask June. Next time you hear from Ask June, it'll be on the 11 o'clock news: "A yellow dog was found wandering alone at the state park today, and in possibly related news, a panther at the park coughed up a world's record hairball."

Hey, June, what’s shakin’? (Or, I’d rather be blogging)

I saw a really good bumper sticker on a car today. It read, "I'd rather be driving." Then below that was the name of some zen center near here.

Okay, I love this bumper sticker. I have always been sort of annoyed by those "I'd rather be…" bumper stickers. Instead of moaning to all of us about how you'd rather be shopping at Nordstrom or poking baby chickens or whatever, how about just being happy where you are, right now? 

So gettin' me an "I'd Rather Be Driving" bumper sticker.

Which leads me to a brief discussion about this Funniest Blogger contest. I am now officially in third place, and you know what? It's fine.

I never wanted to be the funniest blogger in the ding-dang world. I don't want to disparage other funny bloggers, or kill myself to be more amusing than they are. I love my blog, and all my blog friends. I will be happy if I win that thing, and happy if I don't. Do you have any idea how nice it was to tell you all I was nominated and then get into second place overnight?

I don't need some super-secret-squirrel, sitting-behind-a-table-like-that-committee-in-the-last-scene-of-Flashdance group to tell me I'm funny. You all tell me I'm funny, and you are all I need. What a feelin'.

And speaking of the invisible friends I have made in blogging, my close personal friend Jan, who I have never met or even talked to, is in cahoots with me to fix one of her family members up with one of my family members. If this works, it'll be the weirdest thing this blog has produced.

So, I was perusing the Ask June Qs, and came across these Jan questions I have not yet addressed. Let's answer those today. Have a little All Jan, All the Time kind of an Ask June, shall we?

Medino

 You know I like to throw in a picture on Ask June day, and this old shot was on the desktop. Seriously, I crack myself the hell up sometimes. 

Jan asks, "Why do celebrities name their children such odd names?"

Because celebrities are annoying, Jan. And hey, did you see John and Kate plus Bicarbonate or whoever are getting a divorce? You mean Kate is available?

Jan also asks, "How did Marvin propose to you?"

Haven't I already told this story? Poor Culpepper, the person who's read me since 1850. She is so over this story. But if you're new, here we go.

Marvin and I dated in college for three terrible months, then we broke up after a certain beer bottle got thrown at a certain someone's head. Because maybe someone didn't PAY ENOUGH ATTENTION and needed a little jarring. And maybe that plan backfired, and the person getting the beer thrown at him was instead completely repulsed and didn't think getting glass thrown at his noggin was sexy and compelling like someone thought it might be.

So, after that dramatic breakup–and ALL my breakups were dramatic, I am sure you're shocked to hear–Marvin and I somehow remained pals. He moved to Los Angeles, I moved to Seattle. Ten years after the beer toss, I invited him to visit me in Seattle and seven months later the following happened.

I had moved to Los Angeles and one day Marvin gave me my perfect day, based on the information I gave him after he'd once asked me, "What would your perfect day be?"

I tell you what. It's been 13 years since that proposal day and if I were ON FIRE Marvin wouldn't even ask me, "Why are you on fire?" We are so over each other. I cannot fathom that he ever asked me that question, but there you go.

So, he served me breakfast in bed, and he had made hash browns with onions in it. Then we went to the beach. Then we drank outside. Then we got on a ferris wheel at Santa Monica pier and that is where he did the deed. And I have always thought, what if I'd said no? How awkward would the rest of that ferris wheel ride have been?

RingHe gave me a beautiful ring from the 1940s, as I had told him I wanted an old ring. I have since been told the ring may even be from earlier than that, but whatever. He did well with the ring.

Then we ate barbecue, as that was also part of my perfect day. It really was kind of a good day.

Finally, Jan wonders, "My sister and I just had terse words regarding how to pronounce 'Horkheimer' as in Mr. Horkheimer.  I say it is 'Hork-Heimer.'  She insists that it is 'Horkheimer.' If that makes any sense, kind of like 'Hork-her-mer.'  Kind of.  Please tell us who is right."

Mr. Horkheimer is my dead cat. He was the love of my life.

Franhork 001

Here he is with a much younger and thinner Francis. Horkie was the love of Francis' life, too.

Hork

Here's Horkie now. I want you to know I just took his ashes and posed them next to Francis because I thought that'd be a HILARIOUS photo, and the stupid camera battery died. Just like my cat.

Anyway, it's Hork-HYE-mer, if that makes sense. Long "I" sound in the middle.

And that wraps up another pressing week of Ask June. And you know how I do that annoying link and I say ask your Ask June questions here? I think what I'll do from now on is remind you it's Ask June on Thursday and you can ask them right there. I wish I knew how to do buttons. I mean, the button to vote for me was already made, and that took 850 hours to get up here.

I'd rather be signing off till tomorrow.

Query June

When I got home tonight, I fell onto the couch and had me a big nap, a nap that involved Tallulah similarly sleeping, on my head. When I got up and remembered we had to Ask June tonight, I headed in here and saw this hair on the webcam.

Hair

Okay, seriously. What is up with the 'do? Did I time travel in my sleep and become an 18th-century composer for awhile? It is truly a thing of beauty. So I decided to dress it up.

Hairwithheart

Now it's flowery bad hair. You know you miss me playing with the special features on my webcam.

Let's pick our locks elsewhere, shall we? It's time for another brilliant installment of Ask June.

Aubrey "I want to know all those 'vs.'s' including 'lie vs. lay.' You have me so nervous I'll type something grammatically incorrect."

Aubrey. Do I seem like someone who would pick on you for being grammatically incorrect? Would I poke fun at you for that inappropriate apostrophe in "vs.'s"? Never!

I don't know why everyone thinks I am going to judge them for mistakes. First of all, I make them all the time. That's why there are people like me, people who see the flaws in everything and CORRECT those mistakes. Really, I'm not going to care if you make errors in your comments to me. I promise.

I do not know what other "vs." type things you mean other than lay or lie, Aubrey, but I have a good one for remembering lay or lie. Did I cover this in another Ask June? It feels like I have.

When you LAY something, you PLACE it. Just think PLAYCE. "Come lay down with me" (okay, don't really, stalker). Now, think about that. Is that correct? Try it with place. "Come place down with me." Makes no sense, right? So it should be "Come lie down with me."

Here's another. Lie that down right there. Place that down right there. HAH! It should be "lay"!

Thank you. Tip your wait staff.

Aubrey also wonders, "I'm wondering if you could tell us again how one learns to be a copy editor."

Be bad at math, geography, athletics, and science. Be good at English. Have no choice but to major in English. Endure four years of people saying, "Oh, are you gonna TEACH!?" Graduate not knowing how to teach, but knowing how to read books really well. Discover no one wants to hire someone who can read books really well.

Really, Aubrey, I think you have to have a natural knack for knowing parts of a sentence, the grammar rules, spelling. I mean, you have to be able to look at something and know if it's right or wrong.

Also too, you have to be detail oriented. You know what I hate? I hate it when people say "orientated" when they mean "oriented." I guess you also have to be cranky to be a copy editor.

After that, it just really takes practice. Once you miss something huge one time–like a who/whom kind of thing–you will never forget to look for it in the future.

As for how I got my first job, there was an ad in the paper for a proofreader. I applied, they gave me a test and I passed. I do not know how others got into this charming career. Is there anyone else who copy edits who can help a sister out with how they got into it?

And remember, being a lover of books does NOT mean you can proofread. You are hardly reading when you are proofreading (or copy editing) (they are vaguely different) (in copy editing, you are allowed to make some changes to the copy. In proofreading, you just change bad spelling and punctuation). You are looking at every letter, every bit of punctuation. You are noticing if the leading is off. You are noticing if the folios are right. You are noticing if there is consistent space before the cutlines. You also must know what all those terms mean.

I guess you shouldn't get me started on this topic. I have a lot to say in the subject. I have been doing it for 12 years.

Shannon inquires, "What do you see yourself doing at age 60?"

For one thing, Shannon, I'll just be happy to be alive, with my cancer-gene family. Seriously. But if I am still here and not dying of anything, I hope to be near retirement, with several pets, living near the water. And I do not mean the hose out back.

What if I'm still blogging at 60? How annoying would that be? "Welllll, my rheumatiz has been acting up, and I've been stopped up for days." Really, it wouldn't be that different from now, would it?

That wraps up another hair-raising week of Ask June. Thanks for your questions, and as always, Ask June here.

Ask June 612: The Revenge of Michael Meyers

Can you tell I am running out of things to call Ask June? I mean, every Friday I am supposed to come up with a new name for Ask June. Does anyone have any good ideas?

And speaking of good ideas, let's spray it and not say it. Who won the Love's Baby Soft giveaway, you ask? Are you all a-tingle?

Some of you tried hard, and some of you tried soft to win the perfume and Bonne Bell Lip Smacker, whose flavor I would announce had I actually gone to the drug store to buy it yet. But the big winner was Joanna, who I am not even kidding you won because I had Marvin pick a random number, but look at her ridiculous comment, which I will put in Love's Baby Soft pink:

"When I was younger I was an orphan. All I really wanted was a mom and dad. Every time the potential parents would come to the orphanage my fellow orphans and I would clean ourselves up, brush our hair and put on our best outfits. We would line up and put on our saddest faces (or smiles depending on what we thought the potential parents would enjoy). But, alas, every time another child would get picked. One day a very well-to-do couple came to pick out their child and, again, I was not picked. They gave the rest of us children some Love's Baby Soft as a gift. I had the exact set you have now. I drew a face on each of those bottles and called them Mom and Dad. Right before I turned 18 and moved out of the orphanage (you see how I never got adopted?) I was packing and my Mom and Dad rolled off the top bunk and shattered into a million pieces while sending a lovely pungent scent into the air. I would do anything to have a second chance at a family June. Please send those wonderful perfumes to me. Also, my kids would like to meet their 'grandparents.' Thanks."

Seriously. Like I wasn't gonna send her her mom and dad. And Joanna, if you have a particular flavor Lip Smacker you'd like me to try to find, just let me know. You poor orphaned thing.

But enough of bad giveaways and phony sob stories. Let's inhale the sweet smell of Ask June, shall we?

Nancy McKee asks, "I have a trip planned to Mackinac Island in late June and need to plan my itinerary. I have never traveled into the far northern netherlands and, being a GRITS, don't know what goes on up there. Could you give me some ideas on places to stop and visit? No museums, theme parks, etc where there might be families with their precious little angel/devils…..My interests include: oddities, junk, fabric, shoes, food, craft fairs."

Oh, Nancy. Mackinac Island is nice. I mean, it's touristy, but it's also pretty cool. We went there for part of our honeymoon. You know there are no cars on the island, right? Now, listen. If you can save your pennies, I cannot recommend highly enough that you stay at The Grand Hotel. It's where we stayed, and I stayed there when I was a kid, too, and it is TO DIE FOR. It's where they filmed Somewhere in Time with Christopher Reeve. Stay there. Listen to me.

Does anyone else have untouristy things for her to do there? The only thing I know to tell her to do is stop in and say hey to my Uncle John in St. Ignace across the way, there. Cause, you know, I was on my honeymoon and 10 when I was there. Not at the same time.

Also, what's a GRITS?

M queries, "Dear Cat Lady June, Will you help me name my new kitty? I'm having trouble coming up with a name for her. You would too if this was only about your 9,000th cat. Thanks!"

Felicity. (My Aunt Mary is good at cat names, so I called her and she came up with it.)

Jan ponders, "Does it bother your mother that you are not going to have children? Did she really want grandchildren? Has she ever tried to convince you to change your mind?"

Dear Jan: Yes, yes, and also yes. Did it work? No. Did it work even for a minute? No. The good news is, one of my really good friends lives in my hometown and has a little girl, and for the first few years of Emma's life my mother took care of her a few days each week while my friend worked. So my mother has kind of a pseudo grandchild. Plus, she has three lovely grandcats (four if you count my stepsister's cat Duncan) and a delightful granddog. Things could be worse. I could have married Rush Limbaugh or something. Wouldn't THAT have gotten her goat?

Is "kind of a pseudo" really bad English?

Jan, who I assume is the same Jan as above and who asked me three different questions on the same day and clearly needs a Junetervention, asks, "Do your pets have middle names?"

Those of you who have pets, don't you end up calling your pet all sorts of things that aren't his or her original name? Like, my old cat Mr. Horkheimer eventually became Sam Foley Horkheimer, even though I never officially gave him a first or second name. He just kind of had "Mister" for a first name, like the bad guy in The Color Purple.

That said, yes. It would appear that Francis is somehow Fran Ellen, even though he is a boy cat. Tallulah is Tallulah Blueberry Gardens, and Winston and Henry do not have middle names. Winston's last name is Tripper, though, because when we first got him Marvin tripped over him and broke his hand. Which I did not believe for a full 12 hours and made him go about his Saturday like a normal person because he could MOVE the hand and isn't that always the golden rule about whether something is broken? It was only till it looked kind of purple that I started to worry. I felt really guilty when it was, in fact, broken. 

And I must break these chains of Ask June now and go about my day. As always, direct your pressing questions for Ask June here.

Bug June with your queries

Ask June is just joshing you with her title. She likes your Ask June Questions. You know what she was thinking? She was thinking maybe you could ask some personal-woe types of questions. Do you have any relationship issues, money concerns, or work troubles you wish you share with the world? Go ahead, Ask June.

Perhaps you are wondering, "Why on earth should I take my woes to Ask June? In what possible way is she qualified to deal with my troubles?" I'll tell you how. My stepfather is a psychiatrist. If that doesn't make me qualified.

Before we begin, let's add a photo for visual stimulation. I am way too lazy to get the camera, because if you must know, Ask June episodes take a long time.You have to go back to old Ask Junes and physically GET the questions, you have to link to the questioner's name, you have to copy and paste the questions, then you have to think of a pithy answer. Trust me, you don't want to be Ask June. I mean, I know you don't, in so many ways.

Okay, I will go into my already existing photos here on my desktop and let's pick picture number…27. Okay? Whatever that is, we'll plunk it here so we are visually stimulated.

Pamme 

Wow. This is from last summer, at my mother's place in northern Michigan. Look how chubbeldy I am. I wonder what we put our books down to discuss. Maybe I wondered where I could get pizza. "Hey, mom, do you enjoy my cankles?" "Yes, honey, and I wish to punch you should you decide to get any fatter."

Really, mom doesn't have a closed fist so much as maybe she has a "guess what I have in my hand" kind of a look going on. And I'll bet I hope it's food! Okay, not my fault I hadn't discovered Topamax yet.

Let's stop chewing the fat and get to Ask Slim June, okay?

Cyndi asks, "I am curious about why you use a pseudonym here on the blog. Have you had problems with stalkers in the past, or perhaps you're in the witness protection program?"

I know this is kind of a dumb question, but are there really people in the witness protection program? People always use that line, but there must be people who are really in it, right? If I were in the witness protection program, would the government, like, pay to fix my nose and would I get to wear a silky-haired wig? Because maybe I want to turn somebody in right now.

Cyndi, when I first started blogging, my husband insisted we use fake names, or to use your fancy, college-educated term, pseudonyms. I thought it seemed a little paranoid, but the reason I started blogging was because we went all of 2007 without spending any money, so I was hyper aware of my bank account, and a few months into blogging someone took money out of my account and my first thought was, "Is it someone who is reading my blog who knows we are saving oodles of cash?"

And really, wouldn't you just WANT to steal from someone who thinks words like "oodles"? I eventually decided it was just coincidence, but I'm now kind of glad we're anonymous. Well, as anonymous as two people can be who put their photographs on the Internet every single day.

Hyphen Mama wonders, "Have you ever had an 11 year old cat who has lost half their body weight in 3 weeks and has horrible diarrhea ALL OVER THE PLACE? My enormous fat cat is shrinking before my eyes and the vet cannot find the cause after her blood work came back perfect. Thanks, cat lady."

When I went to link to Hyphen Mama's blog, the first thing I saw was her reference to her dying cat. Which again makes me think perhaps I should have some sort of Ask June Emergency button, if I knew how to create buttons on my blog. Does anyone know how to create buttons? If you use one single computer-y word, like "Mac," you will have lost me.

At any rate, Hyphen Mama, I am terribly sorry about your cat and no, I have never had that particular trouble. I have had a cat who suddenly started falling apart for no reason they could discern, and it is so frustrating.

Jan wrestles with, "Would it be wrong, morally, to sneak into a yard of a house that is foreclosed on your street, under the cover of darkness and pilfer all of the perennials? I think I know the legal answer. But really. Not that I'm considering it. Not that there are 10 hostas and several BEAUTIFUL dark purple dwarf irises that aren't being cared for just sitting down there beckoning to me, uh, I mean someone. Really? Does the bank really care about those neglected plants? That want a place in my, uh, I mean someone's yard????"

Jan, it would be morally wrong, but who am I to judge? Go rescue those poor plants.

Ask June has to make herself scarce now, as she must get up early to go to Asheville with her spouse. Asheville, which her grandmother used to pronounce Aysheville, is sort of the hippie town of North Carolina. It is the Berkley of North Carolina. It is the Ann Arbor of North Carolina. It is the Madison, Wisconsin of North Carolina. Okay, I am out of hippie towns to compare it to.

I hope y'all have a wonderful weekend and that no birds drop any snakes on you.

Remember to Ask June here.

Ask June, Part 972

Winhen

Smack

Tappy

Gloweyes

Our neighbor, Peg, bought this little toy for Henry, and could he be more obsessed with it? It's nice, though, because I have been afraid to buy him little mice or balls, lest they end up in Tallulah's gullet.

Since I was busy depressing myself with poor Farrah's special last night, let's bop over to Ask June, shall we?

Meme says, "Please explain global warming…

"Could everyone be wrong, and we are really heading into an ice age?

"What will Gore do then?

"Speaking of Gore, can you please, please, please explain these green credits I keep seeing on the back of my Sun Chips bag?

"Can we start a Green Credits company?

"If everything is covered in ice soon, shouldn't we really be starting some white credits? Blue credits? Help me, my head is spinning off it's (did you see that – it's) axis!!!!"

Meme has a lot to ask about global warming. All I can tell you, Meme, is I am haunted by that scene where the polar bear swims for its ice in An Inconvenient Truth. Also? I do not eat Sun Chips.

Elizabeth Joy queries, "I had always thought the correct way to write 'all right' was as two words, but my editor always changes it to one, 'alright.' This is for fiction, if it makes any difference, usually in dialog. Who is correct?"

Technically, the word "alright" is all wrong. Who loves herself right now for coming up with that little sentence? Is it June, here? Anyway, in real life, like if you were writing a cover letter or a letter to the editor or a ransom note, you really should go with "all right." "Alright" is kind of slang, so I can see why it'd be used in fiction.

Here's how to tell if something is acceptable or not. Look a word up in a real dictionary, such as my best friend Merriam Webster (m-w.com). (And not a fake dictionary such as dictionary.com.) If you look up a word like "alright," you'll know it's unacceptable because the definition will be "all right," or whatever the acceptable form if the word is. The dictionary will always steer you to the correct spelling of the word.

Isn't the dictionary wonderful? Have I ever told you I read the dictionary when I was 10? Have I ever told you there is something deeply wrong with me? Did that need to be said?

I must go now, as I am once again going to the farmer's market with the other June. Perhaps you wonder why we feel the need to attend the farmer's market every single weekend, and I guess it's time to tell you we are shopping for farmers. Because we are hoes. Get it? Oh, the hilarity over here at Ask June.

Before I go, I am going to tell you that Comment of the Week goes to Roxie's Mom, who make something funny out of my sloppy writing yesterday. Roxie's Mom has got it going on.

Ask June, and her sort of trampy shirt

SluttyDo you think this shirt is a little snug? Am I going to the Harper Valley PTA, or what? This is what I wore to the dance recital the other night. Since then I have been wearing a robe, as I have number 862 in a series of colds caught from Marvin's fabulous job. Fifth-graders. Bringing you germs from around the world.

And no, it isn't swine flu. Thanks.

It is time for Ask June, everyone's favorite Q & A time with your tawdry know-it-all pal, June. Let's all put on our thinking caps and tight sweaters and get right to it, shall we?

Kristy queries, "June–I have a question that has bothered me for a while. My last name is Kish (rhymes with fish and dish). Last year, I wanted to write Christmas Wishes from the Kishes on our Christmas cards, but I realized I don't know how to pluralize Kish. Is it Kishes? Kishs? Kish's? Or is it just Kish (similar to fish)?"

June wonders if you married into the name Kristy Kish, which is kind of a cute all-K-all-the-time kind of a name, or if it has always been your name. June knows someone whose name sounds very much like Kiss the Cook, and that friend sometimes reads this blog and she will be kissing the blogger if she reads this subtle shout-out.

At any rate. Kristy Kish, when you pluralize a family name that ends in sh, you add the es on the end, so your instinct was correct. If anyone wants to give Ask June heartburn, they will add an apostrophe into their last name. Merry Christmas from the Smith's! Well, you've just ensured that June, here, will not have one. Thanks.

NO APOSTROPHES IN YOUR LAST NAME. YOUR LAST NAME DOES NOT OWN ANYTHING. I MEAN, MAYBE IT DOES. MAYBE YOU ARE THE ROCKEFELLERS. IF YOU ARE, GO ON MY WISH LIST AND GET ME THOSE EARRINGS. BUT LEAVE THE APOSTROPHE OUT OF YOUR LAST NAME.

Thank you.

Kerrin wonders, "When you were a freelance proofreader, what kind of material did you proof? Do you mostly do textbooks and such or have you ever proofread a book that was a bestseller?"

Oh, Marvin is laughing at the "book that was a bestseller" part. Well, he would be laughing if he ever still read this blog. People come and go, talking of Michelangelo, here. Including Marvin.

I worked for the entertainment industry (which I feel like I can't talk about so much), the legal field (ditto) (well, okay, I proofread depositions, and I got to read a lot of celebrity cases, and THAT I cannot talk about), textbooks (zzzzz), and yes, people's fledgling novels.

Oh. People's fledgling novels. I am sorry to tell you about the hours of entertainment Marvin and I got out of these things. And you know what's great about a lot of people writing novels? A lot of them are rich rich rich. I read one guy's novel, a guy who thought the phrase was "another clog in the machine" and during a lunch he ended up giving me, piecemeal, three or four hundred dollars. He was a gay guy, so he wasn't hitting on me. He just kept saying, "You are so helpful. Here, let me pay you more." Who was I to say no? I mean, this was on top of the fee I was charging him.

I also got a lovely set of Tiffany champagne glasses from a woman whose novel I proofread, and hers wasn't bad, actually.

My favorite part of proofreading books was the medical writers. I got everything checked out for free as thanks for my services. I got my hair analyzed for mineral content, free chiropractic, psychic readings, all from people I proofread. It was delightful. I like how I just put psychics in with "medical."

But do you have any idea how hard it is to get your book published? So, no. There wasn't one person whose book I proofed who had a bestseller. Very few got published.

Anyway, my experience with these writers is part of why I scoff when I get the whole "I like your blog, you should write a book" line. Everyone thinks they have a book in them. They don't.

Playpals

That wraps it up for Ask June and her first-person/third-person, trampy-shirted self today. She has thrown in the daily photo of Henry lest she hear it from everyone. Now she has to blow her nose. Again.