Beauty products · Family · June's stupid life

Ode to Joy

Awhile back,  Marvin's aunt–who I will call Auntie Garp–and I got into a pertinent discussion about Joy perfume. Actually it was about two seconds long. She said, "Marvin's grandmother used to wear Joy." And I said, "Oh, I have always wanted to smell that."

Let me tell you what. When I was about eight years old, I saw an ad somewhere for Joy perfume, and when I read their slogan, "The costliest perfume in the world," I was hooked.

I do not know why I fit into the Joy perfumers' demographic, with my eight-year-old-living-in-Saginaw-Michigan-in-my-hippie-parents'-house-with-the-black-and-white-zigzag-shag-carpeting -and-poster-of-Bette-Midler-in-the-living-room self, but that marketing ploy TOTALLY hooked me. I absolutely wanted Joy perfume.

I still fall for marketing schemes such as this. Have you seen those high heels with the red soles that cost $750? What are they? Christian Louboutin shoes, right? Yeah. I would sell my left grandmother for a pair of those shoes. And why? Who is going to see my soles? I'll tell you who. If I had a pair of those shoes, I would purchase gynecological stirrups and a gurney and wheel myself everywhere so you could ALL see my soles ALL THE TIME. It would be so worth it.

So, ever since I was eight I have wanted to at least smell Joy perfume, to see if it smelled costly, but you know what, it is never up there on the counter at Penney's with the Clinique Happy and the Estee Lauder Pleasures and I have never gotten to smell it.

Until yesterday.


Marvin's Auntie Garp remembered what I said about wanting to smell Joy, and because I had such a craptacular week last week, she sent me some. Here it is duking it out with my Muguet Du Bois.

And you know I almost didn't open the package? I've got my mother sending me packages saying, "I'm sending you something but don't open it till Christmas" and I've got my Aunt Mary saying, "I'm sending you a pre-Christmas gift so it's okay to open anything that comes from me directly but not anything that comes from a store" and I am getting so confused I don't know whether to scratch my watch or wind my arse, but open that package I did, and when I saw that bottle of Joy I did this for 10 solid minutes:

DSCF1525How Big Hair sicken Winston, with her crass consumerism.

Anyway, THANK YOU, AUNTIE GARP. I smell so…costly.

Beauty products · June's stupid life · Marvin

Cherry for the pits

Shhh. Don't tell Marvin. I had to use his deodorant today. Marvin gets really skeeved out when I use his deodorant, which in the grand scheme of being married 10 and a half years is kind of weird, if you think about it.

I mean, it's just, Hey, Marvin, you know that stick of chemicals that you rub in your just-showered skin every morning? Well, today I put it on my just-showered skin. It is hardly the grossest thing, you know?

(That said, if he ever used my toothbrush I would DIE DIE DIE a million deaths, cause, ew!)

Anyway, Marvin uses straight deodorant, not antiperspirant, so long about noon, I'm all, why am I sweatin' to the oldies, over here? So I went to the grocery store and got my own actual deodorant, which I'm sure make a big difference in your life.

But let me ask you, she says, not letting this captivating subject dry up just yet. So to speak. Are you brand loyal to your antiperspirant? I'm not. I don't know if anyone remembers during Bye Bye Buy when I had to use up the antiperspirant I had that smelled exactly like a new doll, and I HATED it but because of my whole no-spending rule, I could NOT buy new stuff until it was used up. Oh, that was torture, smelling like Baby Alive for three months.

So, today I got Secret brazilian cherry. And yes, it is lowercase like that on the package. What do you think a Brazilian cherry is, exactly? A cherry that's really waxed well? Further reports pending.

In other news, I tried to order that silvery, metallic dress today, but when it came time to pay for it, I just couldn't stand it. Have I mentioned we're a tad light in our wallet loafers right now? I know that made no sense.

So you know what I did? (And by the way, I appreciate the go-to-Macy's tips, but in 1997 I wrote a $7 check to Macy's, which was all I owed them for a credit card payment, and they cashed it for $700, and tried to tell me I miswrote the check, even though I was holding a copy of the check in my hand when they told me that, and they never, ever said they were sorry even though I said to them "All I want is an apology." For that reason I have never shopped at Macy's ever since. Ever.)

I went on eBay, that's what I did. They have brand-new dresses on there, tags still on 'em. And I bought one!


I hope it fits. But it's returnable. Then also too, I went back to the mall and got sparkly little sweaters to wear over top for NINE DOLLARS, marked down from $99 and $129. Hello. I was totally being my Aunt Mary, who is forever finding Chanel suits for 99 cents.


I know that's a terrible photo. I was talking to the dog. Let me try another.


Yes, this is better. Here I am choking the dog. Festive!

Here is the other sweater I bought. Again, nine dollars, so I could live large. I figure if these don't look good with the dress I can wear them to work and tell them I'm moonlighting for the Ice Capades.


What is interesting to me is not the sweater, but why Winston in in that odd crouch in the background. Perhaps he is worried I will get him in that choke hold next. Anyway, you can close just the top of this sweater, so maybe it'll work with that dress. Or I could leave it open. You know I will dance every dance, so at that point the whole dress will come off and I will be in my undergarments. I mean, you know that, Sandy, right? And there is going to be the Chicken Dance, isn't there? And YMCA?

So, if neither of these little toppers work I can keep looking. Which means you can keep hearing about this until the end of February. And maybe I'll run out of deodorant before then too! Man, do I know how to keep the reader wanting more.

Beauty products · June's stupid life

June, sucked in by hucksters everywhere

Tallulah and I are leaving late today, because I have a doctor's appointment at 8:40. Naturally I used this extra time productively, watching daytime TV, which I never get to do.

Okay, who totally wants Cindy Crawford's Meaningful Beauty skin care line? There are three easy payments, you know.

Has anyone bought it? Do you look like Cindy Crawford yet?

Beauty products · Faithful Readers · June's stupid life · Music

Two years. Does that make me an official Southerner?

It was two years ago today that we moved to North Carolina. I cried. Remember how depressed I was? Oh! It was an adjustment.

But look at all the things I've learned since then! I've learned that you simply must wave at everyone you pass, I've learned what fatback is, I've gotten a fat back, and most important–I have learned that all sorts of dishes I was kind of indifferent to taste infinitely better when you completely smother them in butter.

Maybe the butter thing is related to the fat back thing. I am unsure. Must continue with the research.

But that is not why I've gathered you here today. I have gathered you here to tell you about several odds and ends that I keep forgetting to tell you.

What the Sam Hill are odds and ends, anyway? Odds and ends. Ends of what?

The first thing I have been meaning to tell you is that weeks ago, Faithful Reader Julie asked me if I wanted to try her family's skin-care line. She said she'd send me the whole set of products if I wanted them.

Have you met me? If I wanted them. Who loves her a cosmetic item?

So, she sent the cleanser, toner, serum–altogether she sent me 57,000 products, all of which I lined up on my bathroom counter with glee. And then I was allergic to them.

You know I am a delicate flower. I can't even walk down the aisle of cleaning agents at the grocery store. I am not even exaggerating. My throat closes up, I get weepy, I get sniffy. And don't even TRY to get me in a Bath & Body Works anymore. It's so sad! My grandmother was this way. She had to order her magazines without the perfume strips in them. They've kind of gotten over all those perfume strips, haven't they?

So, I sent everything to my mother. Who of course doesn't have this girl-in-the-plastic-bubble issue. She is gonna try the skin-care line for three months and get back to us.

So you like how I could have told that story is three sentences and it took 90 paragraphs?

The other thing I wanted to tell you was I AM MEETING DCRMOM THIS WEEK! I am so excited I could spit spit spit. (Those of you who've read me awhile are thinking, "She's not gonna tell us how dcrmom was her first blog friend, is she?")

Dcrmom was my first blog friend. My blog at the time was about not spending any money, so I Googled "not spending any money" and I came across her blog, even though she only went without spending for three months, like a normal person.

And the rest is heeeeeestory, as they say. Really, no one says heeeestory.

Anyway. She is nearby, visiting family, and she is deserting them to come have coffee with me. If you read both our blogs, you will probably have a day next week where you say, "Yeah, I already read about this in the other blog. GEEZ."

Finally, someone at work wants to buy an iPod for her twins, which even though I am not a parent I can see that turning into a daily fight. Nevertheless, she wants to load it up with fun '80s music, and all she can think of is Girls Just Want to Have Fun, but she wants more suggestions. She only wants songs appropriate for seven-year-olds. Which of course made my mind stampede for all sorts of inappropriate songs.

Anyway if you have any suggestions, please list them here. I mean, not right on this spot. On the comments. Smart aleck.

Okay, I must go. I photographed Mr. Sneaky Pants for you, who purred and paced across the keyboard the entire time I wrote this fascinating post.



Beauty products · June's stupid life · Times I Amused My Own Self

June’s favorite things


You know how Oprah has that show where she shows you all the things she likes cause she's a billionaire and can afford everything? This is just like that, except for the part where I am poor. I know we all know some of my favorite things already (see above), but here are some other things I like, which unfortunately I am not getting paid to say I like.

Do you know who I wish would want me to use their product? That Latisse company that gives you long eyelashes like Brooke Shields' eyelashes. Have you seen that commercial? It's a prescription liquid you put on your eyelids and you grow huge eyelashes and apparently you also dance in a really awkward way with someone in slow motion.

What is Brooke Shields DOING when she's dancing in that commercial? She does this little jerking motion that makes no sense, unless she's trying to get a bug off her shoulder or something.

But I do like that Brooke Shields. We're the same age and I always identified with her, especially the parts where she hung out at Studio 54 when she was 13 and also went to Princeton. We are practically twins. Because Fashion Square Roller Rink in Saginaw is similar to Studio 54, right? They played Boogie Oogie Oogie.

Anyway. Here are some things I like.


Since the Latisse people are not clamoring to give me free product, I went to Ulta and bought this Lorac mascara. I think it was $22. On one side is a primer, because you are going to spraypaint your lashes next. No, no, no. The primer supposedly does something to make your lashes longer, then the next step gives you long and lengthy lashes. The only annoying part is it's hard to hold cause you have to open one side and then the other. But I do like the results. It's ALMOST as good as the Maybelline Illegal Lengths I was so obsessed with that naturally they had to discontinue because I am being punished constantly.


Has anyone noticed I am a dreadful photographer? I blame the camera. I blame Sue. This time I really do blame Sue, because it was my Aunt Sue who got me this lip color for my birthday. Okay, the gift was from Uncle Jim and Aunt Sue, but give me a break. My uncle is forever asking, "Oh, what'd we get you?" at any present-giving occasion. I could tell him he got me a pot-bellied pig that sang My Darling Clementine and he'd have to believe me, so involved is he in the present selection.

Anyway, this product is from Bath & Body Works and on one side is a brown sugar scrub for your lips and on the other side is a tasty color called Pomegranate and it is perfect for me. It tastes good and it's the best color. I have no idea what it cost. Go ask Uncle Jim.


Okay, this stuff is amazing. It's a little teeny toothbrush, and how much do you like me for saying "little teeny"? The thing is, you don't use water and you don't rinse. I know! It has little rubbery bristles and a gel in the center, and somehow the gel makes you all fresh. Great for when you down 12 beers at lunch. Also, there's a teeny pick for pickin' and grinnin' on your teeth. Hey, I'm in the South.


My final favorite thing is my new dishes. Are my new dishes. My new dishes be grand. Marvin and I needed new everyday dishes and my mother and I combed the earth for these. I described what I wanted (I want what I always want. Old lady grandma things), and lo and behold my mother found these.

Now, I know they're girly. I was just gonna get all white dishes, and when I showed Marvin the pattern, he said, "Okay, but we have to get one each of white and pink." See, I think he thought I wanted ALL pink, so I totally scored there. Plus besides, I think I can kind of mix these up with my great-grandmother's fancy china, which is pink and white.

Yes, Henry sitting on your clean laundry and also half a centimeter from your new dishes. Maybe if you put things away, Hair, Henry not seem so offensive.

That wraps up my fabulous June's Favorite Things post, and GUESS WHAT? EVERYBODY GETS A CAR! EVERY.BODY.GETS.A.CAR. When you go buy one.

Oh! And we have a Very Special Comment of the Week this week. The award goes to Steve and also to his wife, Beth. Because they had a funny exchange right here on my blog. It's our first award to a couple. Let's all dance a jerky little celebration dance, shall we?

Beauty products · Books · June's stupid life · My pets

Nonpaper chase

You guys. Seriously. We need to find out who Casey Chase is. Portugal, Turkey, Viet Nam–ALL LOOKING for fricking Casey Chase here today. And when you Google him? All you get is my stupid blog.

WHO IS HE? Everyone on earth knows about him except us. Or else he's just a regular guy who everyone in the world is trying to find. Maybe he went to a really really big high school.

And of course, the more I write about the elusive Casey Chase, the more times people looking for him are going to just find this blog. I am sorry, people of the world! But good luck on your Casey chase.

Get it?


In the meantime, here are my feets.


In my navy blue polish. What do you think? Am I too goth? And oh, please. Please do not ask about the tattoos again. I have covered the tattoo thing many times. Go look somewhere in June of 2008. There's a whole post about them. Okay, really? Fine. Here's a link. DANG.

I just kind of skimmed that post about tattoos, and I cracked myself up by saying everyone and their mom had a tattoo in Seattle, except your mom's tattoo would just read "Self" instead on "Mom." Seriously, I slay my own self. My own mom self.

Also, yes, that is me in that baby picture. Look at the too-much-hair issue even at the tender age of whatever my tender age is. You know I have no idea. Seeing as I have no children, and my tattoo would not say "Self," I cannot tell the ages of anyone from birth to, like, 11.

And while we're up, those of you who have kids? Why do you say, "Oh, she's 44 months" instead of sort of rounding up or down to a year? Why don't you just say "She's almost four"? I have never understood the months thing. Explain, please.

So in that picture I am probably 18.045 months, but I can't be sure. What I can be sure of is I had a fashionable mop going already, didn't I? A little Ann Landers look, there. Dang.

That's my second "dang" already today.

While I was posing with my goth nails, I tried to take a group portrait with Tallulah, who is 21 months old, but here is what she did.


She totally made out with my nose parts, and I am unsure why. Maybe it's something Casey Chase encourages people to do. We have no way or knowing.

Oh! And before I go, do not forget to get The Fountainhead finished, because September 30 at 9 p.m. Eastern is when we meet for Mince Words with June, my new official book club. And don't forget that Ding-Dongs have become the official snack food of our book club. Because we are all weird in my comments section.

Have I encouraged you to read my comments? I swear they are funnier than this blog, which, woo! What a stretch.

Okay, smell ya.

Beauty products · June's stupid life · Times I Amused My Own Self

If by “sexy” you mean “I look like Geraldo Rivera”

So I'm sitting there at work, and I feel this…this…

Heavenly days in the morning! That isn't a WHISKER, is it?

I stampeded to the giant Wicked Queen mirror in my office. (Seriously, you should see that gargantuan thing.) Sure enough, I had this GROWTH coming out of my face. I practically looked like one of my cats. Is my body anticipating that I will need to crawl through narrow spaces soon?

Your faithful June has been Nair-ing for years. Ever since 1999, when I went to get my eyebrows waxed and the woman said, "You want me to do mustache, too?" and I said, you know, good marketing on your part, missy, but I don't have a mustache. And she said, "Ohhhh, no. You dark like man!"

I dark like man? Really? I gave her the 15 bucks and told her to wax on. When I returned to work, I emailed my entire department. "I want to thank you all for not telling me that I am Tom Selleck," I wrote. And everybody in my department assured me that I was really not dark like man, that that eyebrow waxer had scammed me.


But I've Naired or waxed anyway, just to be safe. And now here I was at work, needing one of those mustache coffee mugs. What gives?

And do you think I could wait until I got home tonight to take care of it? As soon as it hit noon, I went screaming to my car and headed to Walgreen's for tweezers. I also called my mother. I don't know how she understood me, what with my handlebar brushing against the phone like that.

"I could practically tie Nell to the railroad tracks," I told her. "Honey," said my mother, who was trying to have a nice lunch with my Uncle Jim, who also has a mustache, "you do not look like Snidely Whiplash.

"You know, I don't have a problem with facial hair," she finished.

I know I have told you before how my mother does this. "I never get cavities," she'll say, after you've had four root canals. "I graduated college with a 4.0," she''ll tell you, after you get a 1.0 in Natural Science.

And I really hope my family is reading this today, because I know they can back me up on this. Come on, folks, help your masculine niece/cousin. Back a brother up.

Of course I had to buy the $37475638505945949405948 Tweezerman tweezer, which let me assure you is worth the money. Seriously. Mortgage your home. Once you use a Tweezerman, you won't go back.

The other "of course" in this scenario is I had to tell this gruesome tale to the computer guy at work, who for some reason is a good audience for all my drama. When I returned to work, he popped his head in to check on my '70s-porn-star-looking self. "Everything better now?"

"Yeah," I told him. "I was just registering for the draft."

I mean, SERIOUSLY, when did I get so unfeminine? I swear I used to be kind of hot. Now I'm hot in a Salvidor Dali kind of a way.

Gettin' old. It's not for the clean-shaven.

Beauty products · June's stupid life · Make June Do It

Ooh baby before you bump it won’t you shake it just a little for me. (Make June Do It.)

In our second installment of Make June Do It, your faithful servant June has used the Bumpit.


The Bumpit is apparently something they advertise on infomercials, and frankly June is surprised she has not (a) seen said infomercial and (b) been wildly tempted to purchase it, because you give June EIGHT SECONDS with any infomercial and she desperately needs whatever product they’re selling.

Ohmygod, I SO.NEED. that dog dehydrator! My dog is way too wet. And what? They’re throwing in the menthol grater? MY MENTHOL HAS NEEDED GRATING FOR SUCH A LONG TIME.

Seriously, I cannot tell you how they can show me something I do not remotely need, and they have me hypnotized instantly.

Did I ever tell you about when Marvin caught me buying the Escape Your Shape videos at 4 in the morning? In one of his better lines, he said, “You’re gonna WANT to escape your shape when I get done with you! Hang up that phone!”

His menthol is so never getting grated, is all I can say.

At any rate, when several of you asked me to try the Bumpit I did not know what it was. Fortunately, Faithful Reader Shana had not only heard of it, she was sucked into buying it and gladly shipped it off to me. I forget if her hair was too silky or she never got around to it or what the story was. Whatev. The Bumpit was mine.

There are like 79 pieces to this item. It was like getting Lincoln Logs or something. I had to read the directions before I began.

Reading Who is 892 with her reading glasses? Who might as well hang it up and just join one of those Red Hat Societies, with her super super colorful busy reading glasses?

Heresabumpit Anyway, here’s one of the pieces. You pull a bunch of your hairs up and stick it in there, and because my hair is the consistency of a pipe cleaner, that’s no issue.

Hiisbumpithtere Hello? Is your Bumpit running? Do you have Prince Bumpit in a can?

Did you really think I didn’t have to fool around with it first?

Oui Ohhh, cherie! Come to zee Bumpit and we will zee Paris! (I have no idea why this is French.)

Cantseeu LaVar Burton called from the starship Enterprise. Wants his glasses back.


Okay, anyway, I finally put it in my hair. Won’t you enjoy the many natural colors of my hair? Who lives in a pineapple under my hair? Spongebumpit Squarepants.

Bumpy Aaaaaand scene. There it is. Wow.

Reflect I see you! You look all bumpy!


Really? It wasn’t that dramatic. I kind of have Heather Locklear hair. Right after this I slept with Tommy Lee.

Bump Here’s the Bumpit the next morning after my walk of shame from Tommy Lee’s house.

Yeah. So, I tried the Bumpit. I can see where it might be kind of cute if you didn’t have enormous hair like I do. It wasn’t so noticeable on me.

There were also little Bumpits? That apparently you added to the side of your hair? Yeah. Didn’t stay in my head.

I hope you’ve enjoyed your journey with June. I hope you’ve enjoyed making June Do It. Enjoy your bump day! Get it? Cause it’s Wednesday?

Oh, bumpit.

Beauty products · Family · June's stupid life

Old paint


Okay. That holiday’s over.

Hellooooooo, Christmas!


Totally made my Jewish mother-in-law help me decorate today. I know I have sent her straight to Jewish hell or wherever. I don’t even know if Jewish people have hell. Do they? Nice knowledge of my husband’s religion.

Obviously, as you can see from the hot mess in front of said tree, I am not done decorating. We put in a good two or three hours but then my mother-in-law wanted to shop. Plus there was that whole going-to-hell thing.

Papersxmas Marvin’s grading papers in his new Christmassy dining room. I like how he has his collar up like it’s 1982. Did you layer an Izod under that shirt, Jake Ryan?

Anyway, my mother-in-law wanted to go to Ulta, which yeah. Okay. I can stand to go to Ulta. Then she wondered if I might want this bag.

Bag Okay, hi. It’s PINK and it’s SPARKLY. Yes. I think I’d be okay with this bag.

Then she showed me what was inside the bag.

Hello Hi. I’m physically aroused. LOOK AT ALL THE MAKEUP! You all need to go to Ulta and get all this makeup. Maybe every day next week I will put a bunch of it on and do a new look for my blog. Won’t that be exciting? Slutty June. Nude-colors June. Smokey-eyed June. Smokey Bear June. Grizzly Adams June. I won’t Nair.

Anyway, all I want to do is sit around and put on makeup, but all the relatives are coming back over in 19 minutes. We’re eating leftovers. I know, right? I know how to entertain.

Did you shop today? Did you abstain? Are you trying to shop locally this year? I am. I am trying to support Greensboro, is what I’m trying to do. And I will do so painted up like a two-bit floozie.

Beauty products · Faithful Readers · June's stupid life · Weblogs


Well, you know you had a good birthday when you barf in the hallway at 2:00 in the morning. Poor Tallulah. No more birthday treats for her.

I had to interrupt my regularly scheduled broadcast yesterday for Tallulah's birthday, but I did want to complain about my Friday.

Oh, but before I do, Faithful Reader and Extremely Unhelpful Emailer Maureen in IL suggested I make a button, so that when you all do your Christmas good deeds, you can click said button and write them in there, instead of just burying your deeds in my sometimes harrowing comments.

I said, "Good idea, FR&EUE Maureen in IL, but have you MET me? You know I don't know how to make a button," and she said, "Well neither do I," which is where she got the additional title of extremely unhelpful emailer.

So, can anyone make me a button and show me how to put it on my stupid blog? We can call it Pass the Pie or Just Desserts or something. Maybe Hulk will think of another title that I will ignore again.

Ow. You know what? I wrote out 70 Christmas cards yesterday and as I type this, my wrist is hurting like the Dickens, which is still a phrase that baffles me. I think I'm gonna stampede to comment of the week and leave. Cause have I said ow? So now the "Annoying things that happened to me Friday" post will become as elusive as the "Remind me to tell you about the time I went to the pet psychic" post.

Be sure to tune in tomorrow, by the way, because you may recall that my mother has been a guinea pig–no, literally. My mother has turned into a guinea pig. She pissed off Endora on Bewitched. My stepfather kind of misses her, but she's been great for getting rid of all those pesky toilet paper rolls.

My mother has been trying a line of facial products that a faithful reader sent to me, which I could not use because I am allergic to everything, including the scented Christmas cards I stupidly bought. They are supposed to smell like a pine tree, which, hello! I'm allergic to, hence the big white Liberace Christmas tree I have, which you all think is pink because my pink ornaments make it look that way and I would DIE to have a pink tree, are you kidding?

Ohmygod, do I take forever to get to the point, or what? And my wrist is KILLING me.

My POINT was, I am going to interview my mother about said facial products, and I can tell you ahead of time that she really liked most of the products, and we were gonna do the interview when she was actually HERE with the PRODUCTS, but you'll be surprised to hear I got distracted and forgot.

Ow. Wrist. Commenter of the week is Karla. Click This Week's Special to see it. Someone mentioned once that I always pick butt-related things to be comment of the week. You are right.

Beauty products · Family · June's stupid life

Everybody go over to my old blog

I have interviewed my mother about the Corina line of skin-care products, and all of a sudden it occurred to me that my advertisers might get mad at me, because this might count as a product review.

So I have put the interview on my old blog, Bye Bye, Buy! I know I'm really super annoying. Click on the blue link to see it. It'll be the best thing you ever did.

It'll be like a little trip through time, looking at my old blog. You can remember that heady year when Marvin and I spent nothing. Because it was a novelty to not buy things. Now it's a necessity. Okay, now I'm depressed.

Beauty products · Faithful Readers · June's stupid life · Marvin · My pets · Weblogs

I want you to know. I will NEVER be organized about my blog topics

First and foremost, here is my Christmas mug of the day. Du jour of the day. When I waitressed, I used to love it when people asked what the soup du jour of the day was. I never felt superior or anything. It's hard to feel superior in a brown polyester dress that zips up the front, but I managed it.


That stupid Michigan license plate really showed up, didn't it? When Marvin and I first moved in together and he was getting the cow for free, I had to explain to him why license plates in the living room weren't gonna work. It was kind of like that scene in When Harry Met Sally where Carrie Fisher makes Bruno Kirby throw out the wagon wheel coffee table.

"I want you to know, that I will never want that wagon wheel coffee table."

I should have required films that you must view before reading this blog. That one, Annie Hall, It's a Wonderful Life and Arthur. That way, at least you'll know what I'm talking about half the time.

There are many things I wish to cover today, and all of them must be brief, because not only did I get a migraine yesterday which seriously hampered how many pages I proofread and now I have to catch up and because I'm gonna READ so much you know I'll get another one, I also have to go to the post office.

Which, remember how I was gonna complain about my Friday two Fridays ago? One of the things I was gonna tell you is that I had to go to the post office that day and the man in front of me, who had JUST KVETCHED to me about how long the line was, bought a $278 money order IN QUARTERS. I am not making this up. QUARTERS. And he COUNTED them all. "One, twooo…"

So I'm really looking forward to returning there, and given that Christmas is in 11 days I am certain it will not be ludicrous or anything. And they have ONE EMPLOYEE working there. He's the nicest guy. Maybe I should bring him something today. Like a gun. Or, you know, cookies.

Okay, so I really have to go. I have an idea. Why don't I list for you all the things I need to discuss and you can remind me. And I always tell you guys to remind me and instead what you do is you DON'T remind me and then you complain six months later that you never heard about the whooandsoo that YOU NEVER REMINDED ME ABOUT. Geez, I ask for one tiny favor.

Here're topics I need to discuss when there's more time:

1. What was wrong with Oprah's left eye yesterday in the special where she interviewed the Obamas?

2. Did Stedman hit her? I doubt he'd mess with that money train. Did Gayle? Did she get pinkeye from letting her friend pierce her nose, because that's how my friend got pinkeye. Okay, see, instead of a list I am instead starting to discuss Oprah's eye and that's not what I wanted to do.

3. Oprah asked the Obamas an interesting question. She asked what their favorite Christmas gift was. I think we should discuss our favorites at a later date. Good blog topic.

4. We need to discuss the part where I played with my makeup and did a 70s June look.

5. Good deeds. I have to list all your good deeds you've done so far and then link to you and the thought of starting this task sounds worse than standing behind Mr. 278 x 4 quarters.

6. I want to do a little survey of all of you. Ask you questions about this blog, how you came to it, what you like about it, that sort of thing.

7. My pets are cute. This was yesterday when I had the migraine. They like it when I'm in bed all day. And yes, sometimes I try to bring Francis in and he immediately waddles back to his pink chair, quite kerfuffled about being moved. Poor Fran.

8. I have to tell you how I am not the alpha in this pack. Nor is Marvin. I think you can guess who is. She is staring at you in Personal Growth, up there. See? That wasn't funny unless you've seen When Harry Met Sally.

Okay. Off to begin all these tasks. I also have to wrap Marvin's gifts, because he keeps finding reasons to walk into my closet, a place he has never found remotely interesting before, and one of his gifts is three feet tall so it's getting hard to hide. Yes, I did get Marvin an Oompa Loompa. Who doesn't want a preachy short orange person around? I mean, other than Henry.

Okay, bye.

Beauty products · Family · June's stupid life

Ruby in the sky with glasses

We're having an exciting day over here at House of June.

Tallulah got a new collar, thanks to Faithful Reader Lindy. You may recall a few weeks ago that Tallulah broke out of her collar on a walk. She broke those chains,  like she was in an '80s (not 80's) heavy metal song.

Not that I literally had the dog on a chain. I can see the comments now.

Tallulah was busy lunging at an innocent puppy named Snowflake, who lives a couple blocks away, which I just typed "clocks away" and I am SICK AND TIRED OF TOPAMAX, is what I am. A couple clocks away. God help me. Anyway, in her terrible lunging and snarling and foaming at the mouth and cursing and mewling and swearing and grabbing her switchblade and throwing a tea party, her collar broke. Clean off.

Then once she was free, she couldn't have cared less about that puppy and was content to run about the neighborhood like the goof that she is. And that is when Faithful Reader Lindy wrote me and said she buys fancy collars for her big-necked dogs that will not break, and could she send one to Talu.

Isn't it pretty? It's so feminine. You'd never know it is for dogs who are jerks. If you look carefully, it has a little four-leaf clover charm on it. Like, good luck getting out of this one, assy.

I told my father about my new collar, and how Tallulah's neck is bigger than her head and how strong she is, etc. My father said, "Her neck is bigger than her head? Is she a dog, or a bouncer?"

Perhaps Lu could get some evening employment.

Oh, and speaking of my family members, yesterday I wrote about music, and my Aunt Mary wrote in and said she liked "Ruby in the Sky with Diamonds."

Naturally I called her last night to make fun of her.

"That's what you said when you were little!" my Aunt Mary told me. "You used to sing 'Ruby in the sky with glasses' instead of 'Lucy in the sky with diamonds.'"

I did? I have no recollection of this, but it sounds like something I would have done. I can see that I would have preferred rubies to diamonds, because they had a color. I have always been into color. Plus, rubies are my birthstone.

So I will let Aunt Mary have a pass on this.

Also, look:


Byebye pie 047

Mom grew out yesterday's perm and put on a Bye Bye, Pie t-shirt.

I told her I would put her picture in my blog if she took a photo of herself in a BBP shirt, and this weekend my cousin took her picture and emailed it to me. I got the picture Sunday night.

Yesterday, my mother called me.

"You promised my picture would be in your blog if I wore the shirt," she said.

"Well, yeah," I said. "Not instantly. Poor Faithful Reader Fawn Amber had to wait like two months to get HER picture in. Plus, your picture IS in my blog today. I mean, it's from 1975, but it's in there."

So in order to not get another terse call from my mother today, behold the shot above.

In the meantime, I must go and work. I am rootin' out, over here, and cannot afford to fix my roots. I am expecting a big check any day now, and once that gets here I can call my straight hairdresser and make an appointment. I am not being sarcastic; he really is straight. I call him the straight hairdresser because it's just such an anomaly.

Anyway, last night I was discussing with my Aunt Mary ways to disguise my roots, because the Pepe LePew look is still not in. Remember for awhile how Sarah Jessica Parker made the brown-root look cool? Why can't the gray-root look be cool?

Anyway, I really can't rock the jaunty fedora like I'm Pink, and I told my aunt that if I wear a bandanna, everyone will think I am in a gang and I will be shot. You know how many 44-year-old white women you see in dangerous gangs. Well. You know how many 44-year-old any color women you see in gangs.

Maybe I could bring back the beret. Or the Chef Boy-Ar-Dee hat. There's a look. I can see the New York Times covering it now. Fresh from Greensboro, women are welcoming summer in crisp chef's hats. Puffy!

And no one tell me to give up and go gray. Could you all please remember what Marvin looks like? He looks 17. He still gets carded. I know he has gray hair, too, but he looks 17 with gray hair. I cannot grow it out. I wish he'd hurry up and jump the shark so I COULD grow it out. Trust me.

What about some kind of goth hooded cloak? I could look really faraway and sad. Can I pull that off? Maybe I should just have gray roots and go with it. Just go with the haggard look, like that poor woman in the quintessential picture from the Depression:


Okay, look. Even HER roots were done. Sure, she couldn't afford Botox, but she managed to get her a box of Nice 'n' Easy or something.


Beauty products · June's stupid life · Photo essays

Elegance is learned, my friend


I accidentally took this photo of myself the other day when I was trying to turn off the camera. Because it is so fascinating, I thought I'd share it with all of you. Do you wonder if I ever leave the computer room? Perhaps Marvin locks me in here all day so I don't chew the furniture.

And speaking of my riveting photography, I took before and after pictures of my not-at-all narcissistic tooth-whitening venture yesterday. Did it occur to anyone how we are broke and I cannot afford this? But, see, it was on sale. So there you go.

Here is my before shot, and also all of Marvin's ties. You know, I used to be someone who bought Chanel eye shadow, or sometimes in a pinch, MAC. This here is Cover Girl, and I once knew a real live model who was a friend of my father's and she said Cover Girl was just as good as those expensive brands but here is where I beg to differ with her. Because, hello, glitter.

The tooth-whitening was kind of fun. You bit into this big mouth guard and stuck your face in this light, which I could not help but think was giving me cancer. Because you know how lighthearted I am. Also, before he began, he asked me if I was allergic to glycerin and of course how would I know, I have never eaten glycerin, and the whole time I kept waiting to go into anaphylactic shock. Did I mention my lighthearted, devil-may-care attitude?

At any rate, after a few minutes went by and I did not die, and after figuring the light wouldn't give me cancer for many years, I relaxed and tried to read a magazine despite the big light in my face. My hairdresser came back and made fun of me for awhile and then it was over.

After. Is this the most jarring picture you have ever seen in your life? Or what? First of all, welcome to my nostrils. And apparently I passed the early '90s on my way home, because what happened with my hairline, up there? I have an Elias Brothers Big Boy swoop all of a sudden.

Marvin took this less upsetting photo, but really all I can do here is concentrate on Tallulah's yeast infection in her ear, and how her medicine has made her ear part all oily. Really, won't you come over soon? We are all so sexy.

In other news, I may have scored myself a small part-time job. There is an aesthetician in town who owns a salon, and she needs a receptionist/greeter on Fridays. She needs someone on Wednesdays too, but although she had her business out of her home for eight years, has only had her salon two years and cannot afford to pay a Wednesday receptionist, and she said she would pay me in trade if I was interested, meaning I could get free services from her. I told her no but then I went on her website and saw all the peels and waxing and so forth, and oh, I am so tempted to do that now.

Anyway, we have talked on the phone twice and she said she got a ton of applicants but my cover letter was her favorite, and I am going down to meet her today.

You know I will end up working Wednesdays.

I will not wear the frosty Cover Girl to the interview.

That is all my news, except for the part where coffee sounds good. Gonna go look at my teeth now.

Beauty products · Books · June's stupid life · Weblogs

A hodgepodge. A cornucopia. A crazy quilt. And other annoying phrases to indicate that I have 80 topics today.

I have had many odds and ends, or odds 'n' ends, because you know how I like that, to tell you. This time to mark them all off I will use background-singer noises.

Mmmmmmm! Yesterday I threw caution to the wind and spent eight dollars on Jergens Natural Glow Express tanning lotion. It is supposed to fake tan you in a hurry, because I am a busy executive. I put some on last night and really expected to look like Billie Holiday this morning and I think I look exactly the same. Perhaps I am being American about it, and having no patience, but they did use the word "Express" in their title. I am so gonna put a flower behind my ear and shoot up now.

Ahhhhhhhhhh! I have found a new site with which I am obsessed. It's called Your Status is Annoying, and people send in other people's irksome Facebook status updates, and then we all look at said updates and laugh at them and poke fun at them. As if all of our own Facebook status updates were not self-centered and assy. Oh, but wait till you get to the guy who keeps announcing that he's purging people on Sunday. What a tool.

Woahhhhhhhhh…I just totally found a typo on the back of my Jergens Natural Glow Express tanning lotion. There is an extra space in "natural-looking" so it reads "natural- looking." And I am sitting here starving to death because I can't find enough proofreading work. Yes, I will email them, don't worry.

Yeahhhhhhhhhh. Speaking of Facebook, I know I have said this 20 times, but if you are a reader of this blog and wish to Facebook friend me, please tell me you are a reader of my blog rather than just randomly being a stranger friending me. Some guy just tried to friend me and it said he was mutual friends with everyone I went to high school with, and believe me, I remember every ludicrous moment of high school other than that time I drank the half-pint of Southern Comfort by myself (hi, mom), and none of us from high school know this guy. And his mustache.

Word. Okay, I really never listen to songs where the background singer says "Word." I have been on this new medication for my migraines, and it is giving me very vivid dreams and also making me feel kind of nauseated. It's fun! The other night I had a dream I was sleeping. Now, how depressing has my life become that I had a dream that I was sleeping? At any rate, I also had a dream where I was telling someone all of my favorite things, and I said I loved chocolate-covered espresso beans and ice-cold chardonnay in a tall glass. Right there are three things (chocolate, coffee, and alcohol) that I cannot have. My poor subconscious is jonesing.

Ooooooooo. We have had several suggestions for the next book club. What say you? The suggestions are: Eat, Pray, Love (which I have read but would read again); Major Pettigrew's Last Stand by Helen Simonson; and Breakfast with Buddha by Roland Merullo. Please look them up and let me know what you think.

Wooo! Wooo! Okay, the only background singers to sing, "Wooo! Wooo!" are the Pips, but whatever. Now I can't remember what I was gonna say. Oh! Yes! The Sex and the City 2 movie is coming this week, and I wish I could just be passed out in a coma until Thursday. I am standing here beside myself with excitement. My friend the Other June and I are going the day it opens, but I am going by myself at like 10 a.m. at the very first showing. Because I have no patience. Meet my tanning lotion.

I guess that's all I have to tell you. It was all of pressing importance. I have real-life book club today so I have to actually put on clothes and leave the house. Too bad I will NOT BE TAN. Stupid extra-space Jergens.

Beauty products · June's stupid life · Marvin · Religion

Post. Posty post post post.

Sorry to take so long to post today, and I like how I have to apologize for not POSTING first thing in the MORNING on a SUNDAY when people like Miss Doxie go a year between posts and I post every day, and I wonder if I could cram the word "post" into this sentence one more post time post?


I was at church. I am not even kidding you. Yes, I did look at the ceiling to see if it was caving in.

My friend Ann said I should go to church with her some Sunday, as she goes to a traditional church but it has an all-inclusive feel to it that appealed to me, and this week when I was waiting for that company to call me for an interview, I promised God that if they called I would go to church.

You really don't want to renege on a promise to God. Especially the day before a job interview.

And I really liked it there! The minister was a woman, and she had a lot of interesting things to say, and everyone was friendly and just like my church back in TinyTown, there was food after. Which you know matters to me. Because you get HUNGRY sitting there that time of day. I think bagels should be a traditional part of a church service.

Anyway, I have to post post post this post and then leave again, because another friend is having a show at a gallery, and I do not know why I know so many artist types when I cannot draw an asterisk that doesn't look drunk.

So yesterday I managed to work nine hours, because did I MENTION I have to proofread five textbooks first if I get this job, and then I also dashed off and did some intense shopping for my interview outfit, and I also weeded the yard for a sweaty unbelievably humid hour and all in all it was a relaxing day.

Marvin took apart our whole archway thingie in the back yard where our gate is and then put it back together, because he claimed it was "falling apart." Things are forever falling apart, according to Marvin. This is a common refrain from him. "We should get a new whatever for the whatever," I'll say, and you can imagine it's fun to be around me when I speak so specifically. "Why bother?" Marvin will say. "That thing's falling apart."

I'd like to take Marvin to some ruins one day, so he can see from falling apart.

Anyway, he drilled and he hammered and he moved and he got all flushy, and at the end of the day he said, "Look at the arch! Doesn't it look good now?"

He was so proud. You guys. It looked exactly the same to me. I feigned thrilledness, though. "Looks great!" I enthused. "Yeah, it was falling apart," said Marvin.

It was getting dark, and we had both worked like pooches, and I said, "Would you like to sit on the porch and watch fireflies with me?" So we sat there, and a breeze finally kicked up, and the katydids started chirping, and there went the fireflies. Henry and Winston were hiding on each other in the monkey grass, so every once in awhile a cat would BOUNCE UP out of the jungle to land on the back of the other.

It was so nice, but I was parched and tired. You know I don't drink, but you know what sounded delish to me right then? Was a big giant beer.

"God, I wish I had a Bud Light," I said. Because I am from Michigan. Our first instinct is for a domestic beer. Sue us.

"You want to be a firefly?" asked Marvin, who have I mentioned 20 times is hard of the hearing?


Really looking forward to when we're 80.

At any rate, here's what I bought yesterday in my intense hour of shopping:


I bought some blinds. No, no. I bought this necklace, to go with my new jacket and new black pants, which, why do they make pants so ding-dang LONG now? I'll need stilts tomorrow.

Also, I purchased this stuff to color in my gray roots. Because naturally they popped out right when I got this interview.


And finally, I got these shoes. So I'll have on a black jacket and pants and these red shoes. I am excited. Maybe I'll put my feet up on the table so everyone can appreciate them during the interview process. Do you think?

I had better go look at art then return back here for 22947439 hours of proofreading. I guess if I don't get this job, I'll be way ahead on my work, at least. And I can sit around the house in my red shoes. And sweats. That'll look nice.

P.S. Post.

Beauty products · June's stupid life · My pets · Proofreading/Copy editing

Pet bull

I'm just sitting here in my white cotton nightgown waiting for them to call me to tell me I have the job. Is hoping they'll call me at 10 a.m. the day after an interview a little too hopeful? Is sitting around in a white cotton nightgown at 10 a.m. a little too sad?

In the meantime, I had a dream about my Uncle Jim last night. I was at a family gathering and there he was! He was all healthy-looking and joking around and I felt like it'd be rude to say, "You're supposed to be dead! Why are you here?" so instead I just went with the flow and enjoyed his company.

Wouldn't that be nice? If people who had died could show up for things every once in awhile? Unless you're someone who hates family gatherings. Then imagine how irked you'd be to be all dead and relaxed then have to get up to go to some christening or something.


Am going to continuing proofing my FIVE TEXTBOOKS under the assumption that I'm going to get this job, and so I had better be off.

Oh! But I wanted to tell you that last night we were walking Tallulah, and this little boy was riding his bike in circles in front of his house. "What kind of dog is that?" he asked.

"She's a Beagle and a Pit Bull," I told him.

"WOW!" he said, impressed. I have to tell you that since the day I got this dog's DNA done, this is the first time I have ever told anyone what terrible breeds she is that anyone has ever said "wow" in a good way. Granted, my audience was five years old, but I'm taking it where I can get it.

"I have a dog that looks just like your dog," he said, which was interesting because I walk by his house every day and have seen cats but never a hint of a dog.

"She's all blonde, though, not blue and blonde," he continued. I did not want to tell him about the part where Tallulah is not blue most of the time; the whole mulberry-tree-berries-in-my-yard-the-dog-likes-to-roll-in-them story seemed too complicated. So I let a five-year-old think there are dogs who are blue and blonde. This is why it's good I never had kids.

"What kind of dog is your dog?" I asked instead of educating him.

"Oh, she's a pet bull and a Beagle," he said.

This is why I like kids. They lie like rugs. Also, the term "pet bull" is kind of perfect for Tallulah. It is like I have a pet bull. She charges around uncontrollably and she's stubborn and don't even try to wear red around her.

You know, technically she isn't a Pit Bull. She's an American Staffordshire terrier. But who are we kidding? It counts.


Here is a Pit Bull. And I enjoy whomever titled this photo in the first place, who felt the need to hyphenate "Pit Bull." Also, is this dog on 'roids?


Here is an American Staffordshire terrier. I mean, they're not that different. Also, I see so much Talu in this dog that I just want to kiss it up.


Here is a Tallulah. Maybe you can't see the Am Staff in her. But when she gets really excited her forehead wrinkles up and she looks all Am Staffy. Trust me.


See what I mean? She needs Botox.

Do you know what irks me? Is when people don't know from in-office plastic surgery procedures and they say, "And she has so much Botox in her lips she looks like she's wearing those wax lips!" Okay, you don't have BOTOX in your LIPS. You have collagen or some similar plumping device. Geez. I wish people would get their shallow needless cosmeceuticals straight.

Didn't I say I was leaving like seven hours ago? What I like about myself is my ability to dive right into my work. Because it's not like I have five books to proofread or anything.

Okay, bye.


Beauty products · Faithful Readers · June's stupid life · Marvin

Comic Sans

First of all, yay.


Okay, so see how I put this little square up here like I know what I'm doing? And you can all say, "Oh, how nice! Our votes mattered! June is a finalist in that Most Ludicrous Blog contest!"

What you don't know is the part where I sat here trying to download that stupid square 800 thousand five hundred ninety-two times. And every time I'd try to put this on here, my stupid computer would make that "you effed up" noise at me — "wooo!" — and then it'd say, "This file is a mime" or something.

It didn't technically say it was a mime, but it said something with the word "mime" in it. Something about my mime was unsupported. So somewhere out there, thanks to me, some mime is going hungry. He's in some park pretending it's windy and also rubbing his stomach. While trying to get out of a box.

Is there anyone who likes mimes? Anyone?

How did I go from being a finalist to talking about Sheilds and Yarnell?


Why must mimes hold their eyes open like that? This is why I hate everything having to do with the theater.

So what happens next is some secret group out there, like the Academy or the Eastern Stars or the KKK or whatever, are over there reading my blog deciding whether it's funny. And I'm sure the part where I just called them the KKK won me a TON of votes.

Maybe everyone in the secret society is a mime. And they are reading this with really big eyes.

The point is, they will announce if I have won in New York on I think August 5, or maybe it's August 4, at this blog convention that I cannot attend because I have a job and so forth. So I probably won't win because I can't go. Because I am working class. See how things go? The man. Keeping me down. The mime. Not voting for me.

However, I cannot thank you all enough for all the votes. I heart you. And I am in competition with sincerely funny people! So I feel kind of fancy, mingling with the likes of The Bloggess and CakeWrecks and so forth. Did I already say "and so forth" today? Oh, yes, there it is. In the paragraph above. My writing sucks. Hello, voting committee.

In other news, Marvin is currently watching a documentary on Helvetica. No, really. I am not making this up. And no, there is not a band you have never heard of called "Helvetica," although "Hellvetica" would be kind of a good band name. He is watching a documentary on the actual font. I think we can all agree Marvin has reached a new low in his documentary viewing.

I don't know why he's my type.

Get it?

I am sans humor re the sans serif.

I am a font of funnyness.

Marvin is a prints among men.

Okay, I'll stop.

I must have liked him because he had a lot of good lines.

(That wasn't even remotely a good one, was it?)

If I ever leave him, I am totally going for a new Roman next time.


On that note, I will leave you. Tune in tomorrow because (a) why wouldn't you, with the highlarious font humor you can get over here, and (2), I have to tell you about how Tallulah got kind of chubby and (6a)[14.5](v) one of my coworkers has his art in one of those Art-O-Mat machines of which I am so enamored.


No word on whether he's a new Roman, but yes, I AM sucking up to him so he'll give me some free art. Have you met me?

So you'll have to come back to hear about all that. This is like one of those dramatic serials they used to have at the movies, or like a documentary on Helvetica, isn't it? How will you sleep waiting for tomorrow?

Until then, be bold.

Beauty products · Books · June's stupid life · My pets

It rain.

It rain here all weekend, and yes, I said "it rain" on purpose. Tallulah has her own Facebook page (if you want to friend her, she's Tallulah Gardens. She hearts friends. Especially friends who have chicken), and one of my favorite status updates of hers was one where she kept asking to go outside, and asking and asking, and begging and asking, and when she finally got to the door she said, "Oh. It rain. Forget."

Which is totally what she does. She hates rain. Almost in direct proportion to how much she loves chicken. And yes, I do realize that I am the one who writes her status updates, and that I am hearting my own update in reality and that makes me an arsehole.

At any rate, when it rain, all she wants to do is lie around.

Do your dogs do this when it rain? She has the energy of Anna Nicole Smith. (RIP)

Who took SugarPie? We all got so up in arms about the baby who could not have looked more like Larry Whomever in drag, and no one said, Who gets SugarPie. What is that guy's last name?

Although that dog should have been taken from her for the part where she named it SugarPie.

And look, I seem to have gotten off onto a tangent.

Anyway, the point of it raining and Lu lying around like she's on the meth–

–meth doesn't make you lie around, does it? It makes you tweak, whatever that means. Crap. I really have to get cooler.

The POINT of Lu lying around like she's on the 'ludes (hah!) (1979 called. Wants its drug back) is that she is supposed to be dieting and exercising because remember the vet said she was still acceptable but no longer ideal. Which is the story of my life.


So as soon as it was remotely not raining I made her go in the back yard with me, and as you can see, she is getting her swoop back in her waist parts. Go, sexy Lu. Work it. And yes, I see those weeds. Shut up. It rain.

So speaking of being acceptable and no longer ideal, when I was in Colorado, where it dry, I mentioned that for the first time in my life, my skin felt, you know, dry. I am 45 and still break out. I have always had let's call it dewy skin. I thought this would keep me looking youthful but Granny on the Beverly Hillbillies called. She's suing me for doing impersonations.

Anyway, after I mentioned about my skin my Aunt Mary asked what kind of moisturizer I use. "I have never used a moisturizer," I told her.

She looked at me like I had poisoned a family of ten, chopped them into little bits and stir fried them up for her birthday dinner. And the shocking part of that story would be the part where I cooked.

"June, you HAVE to use moisturizer," she said solemnly.

So this weekend I made my way through the rain–


I'll bet you had forgotten that particular Barry Manilow song. I'll bet you're delighted I reminded you. I'm not even sure I sang you the right words.

Oh dear God. Everything is on YouTube.

ANYWAY, I DID make it through the rain and found myself at Ulta. With the others whooo like makeup too.

Someone pounced on me right away and I told her I really wanted to do that Dermalogica face-mapping thing. You'll be shocked to hear that I was sort of familiar with all the skin-care products Ulta had to offer, and I had gandered at this face-mapping this many times. Someone looks at you under a giant magnifying mirror then gives you a map of your face that looks not unlike one of those maps of a pig when they're dividing it up for loins and shoulders and such.


I had no idea when we were eating ham we were eating pig butt, by the way.

And why is "Boston Butt" not a butt at all? Those crazy Boston people. With their baked beans that aren't baked beans and their butts that are shoulders.

So the woman at Ulta said the face-mapping woman wasn't there that day, which, hi. IT'S THE WEEKEND. Don't you think that'd be the ultimate time, forgive the pun, to be there? Nevertheless, this young chippy said she used to be the aesthetician at the salon and she used to do the face-mapping and she could see by looking at me which product I needed.

And she stampeded right over to the anti-aging products.


Okay, I understand I came in there with my walker with tennis balls on the bottom and my pale-green elastic-waist pants and bone-colored tennis shoes and my Depends and my tight perm and my "I Heart Being a Grandmammy" sweatshirt, but anti-aging? Really?

How depressing.

I bought the whole kit. Cosmetics saleswomen make a fortune off me. I told her the next time we see each other I want to resemble a fetus.

So that was my weekend. Oh! And don't forget this Sunday is book club! Or Book Club, as Paula H&B would call it, with her need to capitalize things that don't need capitalizing. We are reading Breakfast with Buddha, and I love love loved it, I can tell you now. I think I said we're meeting at 7 p.m. my time, but if I'm wrong one of you can tell me. I am old and I get addled.

Who are all of you?

Beauty products · I am berserk · June's stupid life · Marvin

A hodge and a podge. Hey, at least we all get to stop looking at my arse. Actually, that isn’t true.

You know those phony posts where I have eight million topics?


Okay, first of all, I was having a deeply intellectual evening recently, wherein I was smelling the perfume samples that came in a magazine. I said to Marvin, "Does this one smell like someone put bug spray on a Sweet Tart?"

Marvin, who is totally over me and the part where I think things smell like bug spray on a Sweet Tart, smelled the sample and said, "No, I'm really getting more lighter fluid on a King Don."

A King Don. Who kills me? Has he been in a basement since 1975? When is the last time you thought of Ding Dongs as King Dons?


Marvin just walked in and saw this and wants me to be sure to clarify that Ding Dongs and King Dons were also Ring Dings, depending on where you grew up. Holy mother of God.

THEY'RE DING DONGS, OKAY? NOT RING DINGS. And certainly not King Dons. King Dons. Go, Marvin and his '70s references. Do you think he also wonders why I don't pull on my L'Eggs pantyhose every day?


You know, they have Sheer Energy.

By the way, I love how King Don has an All Rights Reserved R not only next to his name, but also next to his arse. THIS IS KING DON'S ARSE! DO NOT STEAL!

I don't know if you've looked recently but I think I stole King Don's arse since I started this food-centric job.


I did just get some "boyfriend" jeans, though (see me pulling off the tag so I'm not like Minnie Pearl). Do you enjoy my phony quote marks? Do you enjoy how the world has tilted in a drunken fashion? We are on a very angled part of the globe. I don't even know how we don't fall off. Anyway, I said "boyfriend" because it is the new term of art for "loose." For "I am a fat-ass because all they do is feed me at my job so these 'boyfriend' jeans will give the illusion that I am thin. Even though if I keep eating this way I will never get a boyfriend for as long as I live."

I guess I never will get a boyfriend, due to the part where I am married. Darn, that's the end.

In other news, it has been a long time since I've worked in a high-rise, and I forgot how much I hate people who get on the elevator and TAKE IT ONE FLOOR. I mean, I know I just admitted to getting fat phat fat, but come ON. Today I watched a woman take the elevator down one floor SO SHE COULD SMOKE.


Oh, also? If you work in an office? You know what's pleasing? Get on the speaker phone and then be sure to scream into the phone so we can hear every nuance of your call. Because the rest of us have nothing better to do than hear BOTH YOU AND YOUR CALLER.

Did I have a blog when I worked with that funny guy named Dan in LA? He was hilarious. He brought a whoopee cushion to work, and he said, "Hey June. After lunch let's go ride the elevator, and I'll bring the whoopee cushion, and when it gets really crowded in there I'll lean back on it!"

On my way down the elevator on the way to lunch, just anTIcipating that we were gonna do that later, I got hysterical and started giggling in that uncontrollable way where everyone looks at you, and no one had any idea why I was convulsing and snorting and oh, I miss Dan.

Speaking of my cats, which we were not but did I not tell you we were gonna cover just everything today, my friend Pal from MA sent Henry some toys today, because I keep blogging about poor Henry needing to have something to play with, and how he keeps climbing the shelves in the closet looking for his old toy, and you all think I abuse and neglect Hen.


With his sparkly kitty fur.

But see, here is what happens to all his toys.

Toy for Hen? Okay, Hen stop grimacing at you and play.

Henry not know why he beaming up in these pictures. Not know why mom cannot take pictures. Where grandpa and his photo skillz? Why mom inherit nothing but grandpa George Washington hair? Why Henry not Pioneer Woman kitty? At least then we win award sometime.


Okay, seriously. She was fast asleep in her dog bed, but she KNEW Henry was having fun, and her devil head appeared in no time. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS, folks.

Toy for Talu?

No, toy for Henry!


Okay, toy for Talu. Goodbye.

Yaymmmm, grrrrrrrrmmmmm, toy for Lu! Rowrrr, rowrrrr…

She takes everything. She eats all toys. This is why Henry is neglected in the toy dept.

Oh, don't feel bad for him. He has murdered two actual real mice outside this week and I watched him swoop a fly into his lips right in the living room this weekend. He stays amused.

I think that is all I had to tell you. Can you believe that? It was so brief. Did you want me to bring up another ludicrous memory from the '70s before I go?


I totally had the green one. It was mint. I did not know I should be cool and get the red Strawberry Swirl like Kim Basinger.