...friend/Ned · Current Affairs · Faithful Readers · June can't keep a man · June's stupid life

HATE LOST LOVES. Also? I discuss Newt. As always.

A few days ago, in the labyrinth of my comments, Faithful Reader Jan made the fateful mistake of telling us all that she used to write poetry about her boyfriends when she was sad in high school.

I told Jan she was banned from my blog until she came up with said poetry. You should know that a few years back, I had to have a stupid MRI for my migraines and it was no big deal but of course I MADE it a big deal, but Jan really DID have a big medical deal and as soon as she woke up from HER thing, she asked her sister, "Did June get her MRI results yet?"

So what I'm saying is I'm a super, super good person.

Without further ado, let's all laugh at Jan's pain and angst.


H eartbroken
A ll-consuming
T ightly wound
E ager to love
L osing something
O nce
S olid
T o
L oneliness
O nce
V ivacious, now
E verything is
S oured


Poor Jan. She lost something once solid. So did I, when I had that stomach bug the other day. Also, Jan, I work right next to a poet, and not only is she a poet, she TRAVELS THE COUNTRY because she is asked to READ said poems in major cities all the time. Also, she just won a national award.

I forwarded her your poems. Oh, you are welcome. It was nothing.


Dreams shattered,
Hearts battered,
Lives tattered,
Eyes cry,
Hearts die,
Wondering WHY???,
No peace,
Feelings cease,
Lies increase,
Marriage vow,
Forever now,
No tears I allow.


I always like a comma after 70 question marks. Poor Jan. Her feelings ceased. Or someone's did. I guess hers didn't. Her heart died and her eyes cried. I mean, I glean she was the heart-dier and eye crier from this scenario. Also, Nancy Kerrigan called. Wants her line back.

Was there ANYONE who had just a smooth time in high school? "High school? Oh, I was a cheerleader and had one boyfriend and we never broke up. My skin was clear and I had great friends and nothing bad happened. Ever. I never went around singing Open Arms like it was good."

If there is anyone who had that experience, please leave a comment and your address, so the rest of us can come toilet paper your house.

In other news, when I wasn't receiving dog flowers (see post below), I went on a date last night and could not find my skirt. I hate everything. I mean, I didn't lose my skirt DURING the date, which would have rendered it way more PG-rated than it was. But I'd planned the outfir days ago, and was going to wear my gray skirt and lacy black top, and I even HAD THE SKIRT IN MY HANDS and said, Oh, good. Skirt's clean.

Then when it was time to get ready, do you think that #$%$&#&# thing was anywhere? ANYWHERE? And have you ever tried to frantically search your house with 100 pounds of dog and two cats DIRECTLY UNDER YOU at all times? Why do I have the clingiest animals ever created?

So I wore jeans. I mean, I wore a shirt too, but the whole thing was not what I had planned and here. I took a picture right before I left.

Photo on 1-19-12 at 6.57 PM
I am in my coat, so you can see none of the outfit, except the flower pin Miss Doxie sent me that was on my coat. I note I took this at 6:57, which is nice because I was supposed to be there at 7:00.

Photo on 1-19-12 at 10.12 PM
And here I am, back home, at 10:12. No worse for the wear, really. Wouldn't it be sad if I did not go on a date at all last night and I just sat here for three hours and 15 minutes and took these photos?

Anyway, further reports on that as developments warrant. And this was not the guy who I owe a date to because I got sick. I am getting my roots done Saturday in Raleigh and am seeing him after. Although he does not live in Raleigh. I realize that made little sense.

I guess that's all I had to tell you, except I have no cavities and spent $95 on a new Oral B. I already HAVE an Oral B and if you do not have one I highly recommend it. First of all, my checkups are way better and no, I'm not getting paid to say this. Plus I'm certain its better for the environment to throw away a small toothbrush head rather than a whole toothbrush. But I've had my Oral B, and how many times can I say "Oral B," for a few years now, and the handle itself was not really clean and I couldn't GET it clean and it was bugging me. So I got another one. And my hygienist told me to stop putting so much toothpaste on the teensy brush head.

I know that was riveting.

And I do have one more thing I almost forgot. I would never vote for Newt Ginrich. You know how I feel about political things. I HATE the attitude that people who don't agree with us politically must be idiots, or the enemy, or pure evil. But I do not agree with him and would never vote for him based on that. However? I am 100% in support of him on this.


I do! What someone says to his WIFE, while they are struggling to keep their MARRIAGE afloat, is (a) none of our business no matter what and (3) does not make him lacking in character. It just doesn't. It's ridiculous. And petty. And I similarly didn't care what Bill Clinton was doing over there with a dress from The Gap, either. Could we move on from people's personal lives? 

If we looked at ANY of our personal lives, we'd find something that looked not-so-great. Geez.

That's all I have to say about that. Jan, could you write a poem about it?

...friend/Ned · June's stupid life

There are many cats pics in this one, Hulk! No, no, really, you’re welcome.

Last night I ended up at a dark tiny dive bar with a…friend (June. Trying to be subtle since 2012.) (June. Good at being subtle since never.) and I would just like to mention I like dark tiny dive bars. I always have. And I'd never been to this one but it was cool. Except for the RIDICULOUSLY LOUD MUSIC.

"IS THIS LOUD MUSIC BUGGING YOU?" I asked my…friend.

"YES, IT DOES, BECAUSE WE'RE OLD," said friend pointed out. At the previous place we'd had to put the candle right up to the menu in order to read it. I mean, maybe there's a reason old people don't like to drive at night. It's God's way of keeping us in.

We weren't the only old folk in there, although there were plenty of youngsters, ALL DRINKING PABST BLUE RIBBON and I cannot tell you how that annoys me. When I was young the point was to drink the most pretentious beer possible. "Yes, this is black alcoholic tar from the roads of a destroyed African village. Drinking it raises money for the peoples."

I think the loudness may have bugged me, in part, because I was not drunk. I looked at the bartender, who probably also was not drunk, and wondered how he wasn't bugged. But I came to the conclusion his years of bartending had made his tinnitus so terrible that this was probably how he listened to music at home.

My point is, at one point in the evening these people just walked in with a Pit Bull. A HUGE brown and white one; he was really a beautiful dog. And apparently he strolled in there a lot, because people fussed over him (gee, I didn't. You can imagine how I did not leave a trail of dust off my barstool, beating everyone out of my way so I could pet that big big Pitty head.) but it seemed kind of like, oh. There's the Pit agin.

The dog just stood there and let himself get petted, and smiled and wagged, but was really calm.

"Can you imagine if I brought Edsel to a bar?" I asked my…you know, acquaintance who accompanied me.

"He'd be all, 'HI! HELLO! HELLO! WHO YOU? HELLO! HI! HI! HI! HI!' at every barstool," said that person I just went to a dive bar with. Nothing to see here.

Then we got into a discussion about what drinks my dogs would order. Lu would so be, "Get me a Jager shot" and Edsel would be like Clarence when he got to drink at Nick's in It's a Wonderful Life. "Ooo! Dis exciting! Let see! Hi! Hi Hi Hi Hi Hi! Who you? Ummm, Eds have daqu–Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!"

 IMG_0363we not injoyy assesmint, mom.

Yes. They ARE on the Angry Chair. It took nine months for them to even consider it, but they no longer fear that Francis will rise from the dead and scratch the crap out of them.

I still fear that.

Oh, and just one more thing about my evening. At the dimly lit read-the-menu-by-candlelight place, the three people at the table next to me were all on their phones. I mean, staring into them. For, like, 15 minutes. And they weren't all looking something up together, as my ex-coworkers and I did the other day when we were all trying to find our Chinese horoscopes and we got on our phones to see who could get the info first. They were not speaking, staring at their phones.

Okay, this has to stop. Why do you get dressed, do your hair, get in the car, pay for food or alcohol and then STARE AT YOUR PHONE all night? Isn't the point of going out so that you can, you know, socialize? How is that sociable? What is so riveting that you need to be looking elsewhere? YOU'RE OUT WITH YOUR FRIENDS. Live a little.

Of course, I was spending my time not socialize and obsessing over them, but whatever.

In other news, yesterday I took my statistics book into the spare bedroom where there is no bed, and I guess I will have to put off THAT purchase for now, and worked while I hung with the cats. Lily still mostly stays in there. She isn't horrified of the dogs, because they go in there and when they do she rubs up on them, but she has her food and her box and the whole walk-in closet with dark corners and she just seems content to hang there. I am giving her time and I try to spend some Lily time with her every day.

IMG_0335Who wouldn't want to spend time with this flufferkins? LOOK at her!

Yesterday I was there right on time for some cat-on-cat action.


They got right in the warm afternoon sun so they could relax while they kicked the shit out each other.

IMG_0333lilee had it wif stupit iris. you not even blynd. fakur.

IMG_0338mom! lillee say i not blind! tell her i blind! it not fare, mom!

IMG_0351come heer, stupit lillee! iris pop yer eye out too!
IMG_0352blarrrgh! blarrrghhh! iris posss by satan! blarrrch!

IMG_0355lilee…not sure want to play wif satan kitty.

IMG_0353 hell. sure lilee do.

I like my Lily font. It's annoying to have to go up there and change the color, style, size and italicize it. Still. I wish one of the choices were just "Lily font."

Okay, I am going. My EX coworker TinaDoris and I are going to the fortune teller again. I am not going but she is. I will just wait for her and look at crystals and play with the cats who live there.

Or maybe stare at my phone.

...friend/Ned · Faithful Readers · June's stupid life · Travel

June Gardens, gym rat

Can't talk long–I have to get to the gym. I know. You guys have spoken to me many times about my exercise bulimia. I mean, I just SAID I was going to the gym…never. In five years of writing this blog.

I did belong to a gym in LA, but you had to in order to get your driver's license there.

Friend in Real Life Kit–not that I have a kit that you put together and boom! you get a friend, which would be convenient, wouldn't it? Gee, I want to go to that new restaurant and everyone's busy. Hey! I'll get my Friend in Real Life Kit!

Am annoying today. It's the endorphins. They are pumping from all my 'roids.

My friend in real life, whose name is Kit, has a gym membership eight inches from my front door, and perhaps you wonder how I've managed to take photos out my front door without including a giant gym eight inches away.

100_1095Sryisly mom? Could be more annoyinger?

So she got a 30-day pass for me, Kit did, and asked me to join her at said gym. I have always wanted to join that gym, actually. It was the one Marvin went to all the time. Do you remember that? How he was always traipsing off to the gym at like 9 p.m.? Maybe you got here after Marvin. [A.M.] Anyway trust me. That happened a lot.

How did I pick a grownup cat and a baby cat who look so ridiculously alike? Kills me.

And in other nice-things-people-are-doing-for-me-because-people-are-nice-and-what-gives news, someone who reads this blog, with whom I have corresponded many times and become friendly with, emailed me a few days ago. Seems she kind of added up in her mind the whole year of shingles, dead cats, gone husband, surgery, lost job, broken heart, ass of a time I have been having and she wrote me.

"You know," she said, "I get frillions of miles from my job. I will never use them all. Why don't you go somewhere? Get out of town," she said, but not in that "get out of town" way people are always saying to me.

"Miles of what?" I wondered.

Anyway, my point is, I am going to HAWAII. And LOS ANGELES. To see my friends. Can you even stand this?

CAN YOU EVEN STAND THIS? Really. Can you? Because I am still in shock. Do you have any idea how bad I need to see my friend Renee, who had to go and move to Maui like it's pretty there or something? Renee was my best friend in LA, and we moved from there at the same time. Every story about us ends in us in hysterics on my kitchen floor, on in a spa's quiet room, or on a running trail. Or in a dressing room. Or at a hospital. Twice. Still. Hysterics.

I met Renee when we were both training for a marathon, back in 2000 when I was not a lumbering pituitary case. Do you like how I've blamed the pituitary and not chilupas? We were in a running group that met desperately early on Saturdays to run ludicrous numbers of miles.

My cat, Francis, had this thing called pica, where you eat stupid stuff, and his stupid thing of choice was plastic. I barely knew my running group, but there we were, the dawn barely breaking. "Huff," we'd say. Then "huff." I couldn't stand it so I broke the silence.

"I pulled a dry cleaner bag out my cat's ass before I got here this morning," I said.

Renee was the only one who had to actually stop running because she was laughing so hard. She was all doubled over and I said, Ooo, good audience. And a friendship was born.

Anyway. I am planning to go in August, in case I get this job for which I am interviewing. It is technically a 6-month-plus contract job (yes, mom, with benefits, through the agency) and so I thought I should plan for six months from now. I know that's a long way to wait but just the THOUGHT that IMA SEE RENEE, then IMA SEE LOS ANGELES AND ALICIA AND MY FRIEND DAVE AND IN-AND-OUT BURGER AND WHY IS MY PITUITARY ACTING UP is so exciting.

Does it seem like I am a person who gets really good and really bad things? Not just, oh, I won six dollars playing Lotto. Oh! I caught a cold.

Speaking of which, and then I have to pull on my sports bra and gee I hope it's clean (bah!), as you know I have this…friend, of whom I am not speaking in order to try not to JINX it like I have done with everyone else. On Sunday, Dick Whitman and I went to a movie, and it was a French movie with subtitles so needless to say the room was not packed, in fact two people were in the theater. Guess who one of the people was? Was it my…friend?

So we all sat together. It was beautiful.

Then last night, I went to the cool Carolina Theater with said…friend. It's one of those old wonderful theaters. My point is, we get in there, and WHO IS IN THE NEXT ROW? Was it Tall Boy? I mean, can I go anywhere and not run into someone I've dated? I've hardly been Fonzie this year. I haven't dated THAT many people. And yet here they all are, like it's This is Your Stupid Slutty Life or something.

Okay, I gotta hit the gym. I am going to end every post like that from now on.

...friend/Ned · I am berserk · June's stupid life

Hold on loosely

I just woke up. I know. What am I, 14?

I went out last night and partayyed with my …friend. And who is getting tired of having to call him my dot dot dot friend?

Here is my dot dot dot friend pouring honey in his tea last night. I know! Raise the roof!


Do you know who needs to get over YouTube?

Anyway, somehow last night I was telling the story of someone I know who has issues with possessiveness. Dot dot dot friend said, "Wasn't it Alabama who told us, 'Hold on loosely? But don't let go'?"


Then today he emailed me to say that was .38 Special, and it's important we get that deep message right.

So I had fun, and did not get to bed till after 2:00, which means neither did the dogs, because they wait up with rolling pins, and does anyone actually wait up with rolling pins anymore? Because if they did, wouldn't you be all, Why do you have a ROLLING PIN? You will be shocked to hear I do not own a rolling pin. Do you? If you do, everyone be sure to get all up in what you use it for in the comments, and then share rolling pin recipes with each other, and then check back and talk about how delicious your rolling pins made everything.

Because I will not come to your houses with a .38 Special or anything.

What IS a .38 Special? I mean, what makes it so special? Is it like when our parents tell us we're all special and it's just a regular gun like all the other guns, really? It's just a kind of chubby, homely gun watching Brady Bunch like everyone else?

Anyway. I have to go now because it is noon and time for Whitney's funeral live on TMZ. Later I will pick a comment of the week, so look on This Week's Special when I get back from the funeral.

When I "get back" from the funeral. I am .38 special.

...friend/Ned · Film · Friends · June's stupid life

The Blogist

My favorite thing last night was when Angelina Jolie struck that stupid pose with her leg out, and when the writers of The Descendants came on stage, the one guy posed just like her. heeeee!

Do you have any idea how hard it is to take a picture of your own leg?

Oh look. I found a picture of it. I didn't even have to photograph my own leg. That was for your viewing pleasure, though.

I watched the Oscars at a party my friend Marty Martin had.

I know. I had my phone with me and the lights were low. Here is my …friend breaking Marty's wine opener.

We got there late, because I (sit down) made brownies, and they wouldn't cook. I kept sticking spade toothpicks in there and it kept sticking. (I just linked you to the ball I had for Edsel after he got neutered. Who cracked her own self up with "Don't get testy, party pictures are here"?)

But see? Not only did I MAKE brownies, but people ATE them. Do you think Dot Dot Dot Friend thinks I'm domestic? It's only about the fourth or fifth time he's ever come over and there I was with an oven mitt on. Oh, what a tangled web we weave…

Here is Marty Martin, trying to fix the wine opener that Dot Dot Dot Friend broke. I really don't think he broke it. I mean, it's the highfalutinest, fanciest wine opener you've ever seen, and it kind of fell apart, but Marty said it always does that. Anyway now Dot Dot Dot feels terrible about it.

Also, Marty Martin was drunk. Did I mention that? He called me when we were already in the car. "WHERE ARE YOU? YOU COMING TO THE PARTY?" I was all, "Yeah, we're right at your street. My brownies wouldn't cook. Why? Do you need ice or something?"


And with that he hung up.

I have known MM for a couple years now, and have never seen him drunk. It was quite a sight.

Here he is with his adorable dog Spiro. Note that Spiro seems tired of his drunk ass, also.

You don't have to tell me how dreadful these pictures are. I should've brought the real camera. So we could have captured Marty Goes to Rehab with sparkling precision.

I thought Penelope Cruz was the prettiest one last night, Penelope_Cruz_26Feb2012A
(I took this photo with my iPhone) and I liked what's-her-name. The Swan. The young girl. Oh, hell. Red dress, beautiful necklace. NATALIE PORTMAN! Geez. She looked good.


How many of you were just up there in that paragraph yelling at me, "NATALIE PORTMAN!"?

I adore Tina Fey, but what the hell was she wearing, with that peplum action? Did she have a saber under there? An extra-value meal? What the hell?

She has a lovely figure, says June, who turned 87 last month. Why doesn't she show it off?

And I am glad The Artist won. Did I not say it should win? Did not June speak? June has speaken. And although Meryl Streep was EXCELLENT in the Margaret Thatcher movie (and perhaps it'd have been nice of her to thank Margaret Thatcher in her speech), I was rooting for The Help lady, whatever her name is. Viola. Right? Viola and Octavia are being some names you hear every day.

So that was my Oscar report. In a post-report, Marty is feeling crappy but made it to work, and DDD Friend wrote me to ask where he could get a fancy wine opener for Marty, and I am still in the brown robe from the photo at top. All is glamorous in my world.

...friend/Ned · June's stupid life · Television

Rain hair

Girl, I got no time to talk today. I am meeting Dot Dot Dot Friend, and I like how that's become his name, for lunch at noon, and it's 10:23 and guess who just woke up 23 minutes ago? So I have to shower and put makeup on and dry my hair, which I assure you is gonna be rain hair because it's, you know, raining.

So I will dash, but not go to Dash, the Kardashians' store, but before I do I wanted to tell you I got sucked into Downton Abbey like everybody else. You know how I have Netflix on my DVD player now? Perhaps you did not see it on your CNN news feed on your home page. Well, I do. I can just turn on my TV with my smile and then say, "Netflix, please" and there it is.

They had season one of Downton Abbey, and I said what the hay.

Guess who sat there for the next seven hours, watching show after show? Then yesterday I went on SnootyPublicTelevision dot com and watched the first two episodes of season two. So now when y'all prattle on about this show in the comments I will not be bored to death.

Speaking of snooty TV, why is Vicky so religious all of a sudden on Real Housewives? It feels phony to me. Especially given that she is such a rude person. God is probably all, "Get her off my team." Wait. I should use some kind of God font. Get her off my team.

God speaks in sans serif, apparently. You know, this Typepad is really crappy when it comes to giving me good font choices. I realize that is kind of a first world problem. But really. It was hard enough finding a Lily font, much less a God font.

I wonder if there's a way to get new fonts in here, so I can have richer font choices when I am making fun of Vicky Gundelson and being sort of blasphemous?

See. This is why I'm late for things. I start worrying abou how to get a God font, then I Google it, and next thing you know I am at lunch in my pajamas.

So okay. Going. Downton Abbey is a good show, though. By the way. I need no fancy font to tell you that.



...friend/Ned · Current Affairs · Grammar and Spelling · June's stupid life

Catch you on the flip side, Davy. Oh. Also? Tallulalina Jowlie.

In the past 24 hours, Iris slept on my head, Edsel bit me, and poor Davy Jones died. Who gets his locker?

I liked Davy Jones. I mean, didn't we all? And one of my fancy LA friends just told a story about him, on Facebook, and the gist of it is he was a lovely person. Of course, we already knew that.


What. You thought I WOULDN'T put in a You Tube clip today? I practically AM YouTube by now. YouJune. Anyway, once he took Marcia to prom we all knew he was a good guy.

Oh, and Edsel didn't mean to bite me. We were playing with his stupid toy that if you ask me resembles a marital aid, and we were tugging-of-waring, which is a fine phrase, and his ludicrous teefs came down on my finger instead of the toy. "OWWWOWOWOWWWWwwwwww!" I said, and he was mortified. He kept pushing his luggish head into mine and wagging furiously, so I'd know how sorry he was. Then he groaned over to his sensitive chair and started at me for 70 hours, like he does.

…I just spent an inordinate amount of time looking for a photo of Eds in his sensitive chair,

and you know what I should do? Is somehow organize my photos on this computer. Anyway, my Mac has a fabulous feature called "Faces" that just shows you, you know, faces, and I got interested in looking at that, and I found a lovely photo of my pal Miss Doxie.

Even though she's this annoyingly pretty–and I was with her that day and all she basically did was shower, throw on a little lipstick and go–you can't help but like her. Mostly because she sends me stuff like this:

Would I still be able to love Tallulah if she grew an Angelina Jolie leg? Tallulalina Jowlie.


Oh, and I went to lunch with my …friend yesterday.

We had Vietnamese food. Yes, I did drag out my tired old joke about Agent Orange chicken.

The place had everything. Marvelous decor,

in-proportion disco balls,

lots of food.

This leaf is from the collection of weird leafy things …friend put in his soup. He ordered an enormous bowl of soup, then said, "I come here quite often. It's a break from the boring soup and salad I usually get at lunch."

"But you're …eating soup. With leafy salad-y things in it," I pointed out.

It was then that I turned to the literature and read that.

I parked right here under this sign, and you can imagine how this did not bother me at all. "Walk in is." Or perhaps the "in" owns something. Not the walk-ins, though, because there is no hyphen to connect walk-in. Really the whole sign gave me a hive. I wish people would call me before they spend money on signs. Did I ever tell you about the place I drove past EVERY NIGHT in LA that said, "Eyebrown Wax"? Or what about the other place, that sold "stuffanimal"?

It is hard to be me.

Somehow during lunch, I mentioned the fact that I had gotten a perm in the '80s and afterwards I emailed this fine photo to …friend.

6a00e54f9367fb88340133ecf7216a970b-800wiWhat hair? Thanks, loved ones, for warning me not to get a perm.

I had better slip on my turquoise loafers and get started with my day. Some idiot felon-looking person already came to my door and asked if I wanted an estimate re my trees. It was 9 a.m.! Rude. And he did the thing where he rang the doorbell, then knocked insistently, as though he had something crucial to tell me. You can imagine how this pleased the dogs.

I was in my robe, and I am telling you he gave me the once-over. THE ONCE-OVER! While disturbing me at the early early hour of 9:00 in my very own home! Guess who did not say sure, give me that estimate. Perv.

Catch you on the flip side.

...friend/Ned · Beauty products · Hair · June's stupid life

Madre de Dios

I gots no time to gab today. I just woke up (don't ask) (okay, I was out late with …friend.) and now I have to scream off to Raleigh to get my hairs done at 12:30.

The only way I knew there were storms was because I just read the comments from last night. Everyone check in and let the rest of us know how you are doing, in the comments. You know how Faithful Reader Sadie worries.

Here. I found this picture in my archives of Edsel and TinaDoris' dog. We can have a caption contest. I have a brand-new, still-in-the-package tube of Cover Girl Lash Blast mascara that I hate. WHAT A PRIZE! Anyway, you know I'll never send it to you so CAPTION AWAY. Oh, and if a boy wins the contest, I will [not] send you inflatable toast.

I'll do comment of the week tomorrow. By the way, Hulk has been comment of the week all week. I sent him some mascara.

...friend/Ned · I am berserk · I hate everything · June's stupid life

June likes cats. Story at 11.

I had photos to show you today, of …friend's cat, who is cute and who hates me. Which of course has nothing to do with the way I stampeded in and said, "HI KITTY! I LOOOOOVE YOU, KITTY! COME SEE ME!" Which by the way is the ultimate technique to win over a cat. I am like Edsel. I cannot even pretend to be cool.

However, when I plugged my trusty iPhone into my trusty iComputer, my photos would not sync. Or sink. Instead they psyched. This resulted in me calling Apple Care, and there's a job I'd be good at. "How the hell should I know what's wrong with your dumb computer? Just punch it."

The point is, as we speak I am downloading or uploading or totin' the weary load and in an hour Apple Care is going to call me to see if we fixed my load. I know! Fancy. I wonder if Apple Care is in any way related to Gwynneth Paltrow's child? Apple Paltrow or whoever.

Oh, but I forgot I had this! Here is a lovely photo of …friend's cat that he sent me ages ago. His cat likes to put bags on her head, I am not making that up, then walk around for awhile, take off the bag and see where she ended up. You can see how I was unable to be cool around such a creature. I LOVE YOU, KITTYYYYY!

Speaking of my lack of, you know, indifference to the animal kingdom, baby horsie is still unborn. Whiskey Tango Foxtrox? Does this horse not understand my needs? I need to see new baby horsie pony baby.

Anyway, I must go because I have 495959494 pages to edit. Oh! But guess what? In case you are keeping a record, my doctor quit again! AGAIN! This makes at least five I could name off the top of my head, plus the one who killed himself, plus the one who just up and died from being old–Dr. Sherwood B. Fyne.

I give up. Clearly next time I get ill Ima have to go to Granny on The Beverly Hillbillies and have her make me up a poultice.

Okay, really going now. Seriously. I have to read the world now. THE WORLD! If you own something with words on it, I have to correct it. Just hand it over to me now. Gotta get my fly eyes on so I can read eight things at once. I would say more dramatic things re this but I cannot think of any.

Will chat at you tomorrow. Ooo, should we do Pieces of Wisdom tomorrow? What shall we discuss?

...friend/Ned · June's stupid life · Photo essays

June and Silent Blog Strike Back

In my quest to just show you pictures from my week in order to save time blogging so I can get my 394949339 pages of editing work done, I, you know, took a lot of pictures. Then this morning I went to upload them and could not find them and just spent 35 minutes with Apple Care.

June. Making her save-me-time blog take longer than ever before. And the guy I spoke to at Apple Care? Wow, what a personality on him! Who is over here assuming Mr. Apple Care has been laid approximately never? Who is over here assuming Mr. Apple Care might be familiar with Dungeons and Dragons or whatever nerdy thing is in with the nerd crowd these days?

Holy cats.

Anyway, Smoove Operator and I found the photos and I will share my Monday with you now. And man, will it ever be worth it.

100_1217I drove to my friend and Faithful Reader Laurie's house for lunch. Yes, she does live in a nicer neighborhood than I do.

100_1219Cute. She has plans to do all Easter things next. Laurie. Crafting since who knows when because I never ever join her.

100_1224We had lasagna soup. Dude, I know. I mean, when I picked her up at The Nester's party two years ago I really knew what I was doing.

100_1221Garlic bread. And my cankles.

After lunch, we went to the back yard because it was full of color and blooming things and snakes. Okay. We did not SEE a snake, but my theory is they're out there. Being all springy and hissy.

Laurie took senior pictures of me. All we needed was a wagon wheel and my floating head behind me.

100_1238"To a great girl I met in third hour. Good luck with the guys and never forget Mr. Mosca's class! Ha Ha! FF. June."

100_1225Then I kind of got a message from the universe that I had to go back home and work. Because that's what the universe is over there worried about. My deadlines.

IMG_0790It was a nice day, so I worked on my deck, with my coworkers Bark and Barkier, over there. Lu not bark. Maybe Pit Bull growl occayshunlee.

IMG_0796Eventually I slapped leashes around the snouts of my coworkers and lead them down the street with leashes. You can see how well I "lead" them, with them out in front of me.

Then I got an email. Remember that place where I interviewed last month? And I was in their top four? I didn't get the job. I am totally Pete Best. Also, I suck.

I felt pretty bad, so I decided I had better get out the house. I went to a coffee shop to do my work there so I would not sit here and hate my own self, and then like an idiot emailed a …friend because the coffee shop was near his place. "If you get time, come say hi!" I said.

IMG_0801June. Talking to …friend for two hours when she should have been working. Also, I realize …friend is totally wearing a Marvin shirt.

6a00e54f9367fb88340133f17f378f970b-800wiClearly I have a type. I know I could have found a photo of Marvin in a shirt EXACTLY LIKE …friend's. But dudes. THIRTY-FIVE MINUTES with Apple Care. And did I mention my workload?

Anyway. Eventually I came home and worked into the night.

IMG_0802With my other coworkers. Note that job candle mocking me. "You will never get a job, Joooooon! You suck, Joooooon!" I don't know why St. Joseph talks like a ghost.

Okay, that's all.

...friend/Ned · Books · June's stupid life · Pieces of Wisdom

Okay, SERIOUSLY no time today

Went to the BookUp again last night. May or may not have gone with …friend. May or may not have stayed out too late. May or may not have LOOMING DEADLINE.

This may or may not be my pal Jo at said BookUp. Who needs to stop saying "may or may not" about everything? May it or may it not be me?

So I will go. But someone in the coments yesterday came up with an interesting Pieces of Wisdom question and I am SORRY, dude, that I do not have time to go CULL the comments and see who said it. I may or may not have time.

Do you have any superstitions about money? For example, I never put my purse on the floor if I can help it because I heard you will never have money in your purse if you do that. And actually I never have money in my purse because I use my ATM card for everything. But when I DO have cash, I always face it in my wallet in the same direction, in number order. Suze Orman said to do that so I listened. I may or may not be relatively not flush. Still.

So what are yours? Do tell.

...friend/Ned · Hair · June's stupid life

Hot air

Your comments yesterday about your least-favorite songs were the funniest ever. I was in tears laughing. Everyone go read yesterday's comments. I'd cull them, and you know how I like to use the word "cull," but my deadline IS TODAY and I have to scream on here, write something, GO MEDITATE AND BE SERENE, and get my work done.

Then tomorrow I head for the Outer Banks, which I just typed "pouter banks" and I hope I do not end up pouting when I am there.

For a long time now, in fact probably since we installed it–and by "we" I mean not me–the dryer has been a pain in my arse. You have to dry clothes for 200 minutes. That is not one of my exaggerated numbers. The most the timer would go is 100, and I'd ALWAYS have to turn the timer all the way to the end twice before I didn't have I-live-in-Seattle damp clothes.

My mother has always insisted this was, you know, bad, and that I should do something about it, but I was very busy adopting cats.

On Saturday, I was doing some laundry and I noticed a smell. A burning smell. Burning. From the dryer. Well, that seems like not a good sign, I thought cleverly.

So yesterday I called Lowe's, where the dryer was purchased, and I got a man with quite the personality on him. Remember that movie with Robin WIlliams where the people were in suspended animation for decades and Robin Williams was a doctor and he got them out of that state and then the drug didn't work and they went back to being unanimated?

This guy was clearly on his way back to being unanimated.

"lowe's," he said, with all the excitement of a tree sloth. I told him my tale.

"Whatyear'dyoubuyit," he intoned, and it was like he was asking how long he had to live. "April 19, 2008," I said, because I am weird with dates.


"Oh, no. I mean, I really like having my picture taken, and I have a blog so a lot of people see me. But model? Ha! No. No."

"what model's yer dryer, ma'am."


Anyway, as much as I wished he himself and all his sparkling charm would have been the one to come over, they sent some guy from Snappy Appliances or some similar name.

"HOW YOU DOIN' MA'AM!" Now this guy had some oomph. And he loved my dogs. And he was male, so you know how Edsel got. Is it possible for a dog to grin? Because Edsel was doing so manically.

I was emailing …friend about this whole scenario, who was surprised that I had failed to mention to him about the dryer, you know, catching fire the other day. "I'm taking care of it," I told him. "Right now I'm putting on makeup so the dryer guy approves of me."

"Now, see, had this happened to me, the next day I'm out getting t-shirts: Ask Me About My House Fire. But I guess one person's major episode is another person's reason to put on makeup," he wrote.

While I was reading …friend's email, the dryer guy says, "Oh, wow." I do not think he was appreciating my makeup.

"Ma'am?" he came into the computer room. "Your vent is completely clogged with hair."

I guess none of us should be surprised by that news. Of course it was right then that Here's-My-Fur Lily made an appearance, furthering this guy's impression that I literally had a house made of follicles.

It turned out I needed a whole 'nother person to come: a vent guy. The hair was so bad I had to get a whole new, you know, vent. And YES. I clean that lint thing each time. When you are Bernie on Room 222 with your hair, a few swipes in the lint tray are not gonna do it.

Honestly it's like these people must sit around waiting for good times such as these. Because Vent Guy was over before I could even put my afro pick back in my pocket.

"Oh, wow," he said, back near my vent.

"You know what you don't want to hear from your vent guy?" I wrote …friend. 'Oh, wow.'"

In the meantime, Edsel had his bedazzler out to add a "V" to his collar, because he has changed his name to Edsel Vent. If you thought he loved the DRYER guy, Vent Guy was like Rhett Butler swooping in to usurp Ashley Wilkes. There was no comparison.

"Dees is a nice dug," Vent Guy said. He had some kind of accent. You know all my accents sound Finnish. Vent Guy was Mediterranean, maybe? Hispanic? I don't know. All I know is my dog is taking him to the courthouse for a nice civil ceremony this weekend. They're getting a place on Fire Island this summer.

"Come loooook at dees, ma'am," said Vent Guy. Why do they always want to SHOW and EXPLAIN to you what's wrong? If I wanted to know from my vents I'd have gone to vent school. Just get the 95 pounds of hair out my dryer and be off with you.

Anyway I have a whole new hole in my house with a fancy vent that opens and closes instead of that old-fashioned metal thing that kind of looks like C-3PO, and yesterday I did a load of towels that took 50 minutes to dry.

FIFTY MINUTES! I feel how Ma Ingalls must have felt when she got new clothespins. It's all so high-tech.

He also gave me this giant brush that I have to stick in the dryer every three weeks to, you know, fish out the…hair.

Today the dogs, cats and I are going to a sheep farm somewhere and getting shorn.

...friend/Ned · Friends · June's stupid life

Pink beach. April wine. LaUral humps a puppet.

Sometimes you're hard-pressed to even begin to describe what you did the night before.

However, I will try.

…Friend and I got up with Dick Whitman and my pal Jo, in order that perhaps maybe I could fix up my pal Jo with the Dick Whitman. I thought of it all by myself at the BookUp a few weeks ago.

2012-03-20 18.42.42
Here I am with …friend at the BookUp. I know. I just totally put in a picture of …friend. And look! I'm talking and not reading!

Anyway, Jo is the person who coordinates these BookUps, and she's super extra pretty and she's a writer and she has a bangin' body and it finally occurred to me. Hey! Dick Whitman might be into that type of woman.

I mean, he liked ME.


So last night we got together in Winston-Salem and after .0003 seconds, those two talked among themselves and …friend and I were all, Why did we even have to come to this shindig? Those two are fine alone.

Am totally Single White Female-ing Jo on her lipstick, by the way. In fact, I have to be at her house at noon and am seriously wondering if I can bang this post out and get to Belk before I go to her house. Clinique. Pink Beach. Which is kind of how you can describe me.

Last night was First Friday in Winston-Salem, which in case you hadn't noticed I like going to. They close off the street and have art and you can wander around and get all tanked at the bars (please see Faithful Reader LaUral in first photo above) and just have a lovely time.

Oh, yeah. Because Faithful Reader LaUral and her friend from college joined us later in the evening. And this odd puppet thing had been on display in the road all night, but once it collapsed LaUral had to go mate with it.

You know, it made total sense last night.

You have to admit, it's a tempting siren of a…puppet…thing.

Anyway, I think maybe Jo and Whit, Man, hit it off. I guess we will just have to see. But if they did I am taking full credit for the whole shebang. So to speak.

Time and time again I see, a menu that seems strong, was not meant to be. God, I love me. If I weren't such a pink beach.

Comment of the week goes to Nithya and Hulk.

...friend/Ned · June's stupid life · Times I Amused My Own Self

In which June whips out the Johnson

I gots no idea what Ima blog about today. Did you ever try to blog every single day of your life? Because sometimes it's hard. You got nuthin'.

Yesterday …friend and I went to a movie (we saw Chico and Rita. We totally got to see cartoon sex.) then we had brunch, and there was another Art-O-Mat at the restaurant and of course I bought another $5 piece of art.

TskwI've talked about these 68 times, but Art-O-Mats are old cigarette machines that now have teensy pieces of art in them, from artists from just everywhere. I was torn between getting Scrabble earrings or this wood block, and I went for the block. I would photograph it for you but I am extremely busy.

Should I drive back today and get the Scrabble earrings, too? Please note how extremely employed I am.

Hey, did I tell you I'm freelancing at my old workplace starting later this week? Not the LAST place that laid me off, the place that laid me off before that.


This was where I had to bring in a childhood photo of me, remember? And they put it up in the lobby with everyone else's childhood picture?

6a00e54f9367fb88340133f244bad8970b-800wiHey, will you remind me to pick up a greenish-brown chair?

Okay, I just went into my archives to find the childhood picture, and I found this passage from back in July 2010:

I could not wait to get home and fix my bra straps. All day my left strap kept visiting my elbow, like they were long-lost friends who couldn't wait for a coffee klatch. Like they were Celie and Nettie in The Color Purple. You and me, us never part. Makidada.

Stupid effing strap. I'm certain I looked professional dipping down my shirt all day.

Who cracked her own self up with that? Also?


Here is the thing. Marvin found a lot of funny crap on the Internet and it contributed maturely to my blog. Without Marvin, we'd have never shared the "Hide your wife, hide your kids" guy with each other. I wish I could afford to hire Marvin as a consultant to find me stupid things for all y'all.

…friend is not into the Internet at all. Yesterday he said he thinks the Internet is more a girl thing, which I heartily disagree with. "What about porn?" I pointed out. What do you think? Girl thing or boy thing?

Tallulah just came in here and will not stop obsessively sniffing the floor, and I realize she is a dog and that is her job but it makes me nervous that there is a vole in here or something. I tell you what. If Roger were still alive I'd have no concern that Talu was on vole patrol. You get a blind kitten and a fancy-pants lovely cat to replace Roger, and sure, it's cute and all, but you don't feel quite so…protected.

Remember in Little Town on the Prairie when Laura had a new kitten and it totally killed a mouse even though the cat itself was not much bigger than the mouse? What Laura had, there, was a Roger kitten. And what do you mean no, you don't remember that?

Okay I am off. I have to go to the doctor today for my annual RICOLAAAAAAA! exam. Every year I pull out the RICOLAAAA! joke, and it just gets funnier. Ooo, but before I go, who watched Mad Men last night? That grandma is the best.

...friend/Ned · June can't keep a man · June's stupid life · Weblogs

In which June becomes an adult. hah!

Your gal, June, here,  just woke up. Am I 17? I was out till quite late with …friend, and let's discuss what a grownup I am. I mean other than the part where I got home after 2:00 and just woke up.

I won't go into details, but let's just say I had issues with friend. Issues. Basically he was being a boy and I was being a girl. And I was King Kamehameha being a girl. My POINT is, even though Hulk told me there was NO WAY I could go to …friend and calmly discuss what was going on, and he said he saw me as a cartoon character with tears flying off her face instead of a normal person,

I WANT YOU TO KNOW I DID NOT ACT THE FOOL. I really was calm. You know, for me. And we talked at length, and I think things are pretty okay with …friend and me now.

I know! Aren't you proud of me? I was kind of an adult and also I am not having to get on here today and be all, "…friend is no more." Which if I had to get on here and do that today I would have been a mess.

And I actually kind of have to credit Daniel Boone for that, just a little. You have no idea how many times in the four months I knew him he'd say, "Why don't you just TALK to the person?" "For God's sake, June, did you TALK to him?" until finally all on my own I hear myself thinking, Why don't you just TALK to him?

So I dredged a good habit out of that bad relationship. See? It wasn't all bad, that Daniel Boone thing. Okay, it was mostly bad. Still.

I must go now and get ready to see a movie with …friend. Ellipses. Dot dot dot. Oh, but before I go, I do want to talk to all of you, too. I have been thinking that I don't want to blog every day anymore. I've been doing this every day for five years and I am kind of burnt out. I was thinking I'd just come on here when there was something to, you know, say.

The reason I've hesitated to do so is because you all have created such a community in the comments, and I feel bad about not providing a new place for y'all to get together every day. But if you guys wanted to chat, you could just do so in whatever post is up, right? I mean, I'm being silly.

So that's all my news for today. I guess I have to get all cute now to go to the movie, so I'm getting in my WayBack Machine to 1990.

...friend/Ned · June's stupid life · Not Grace Kelly

June tries to read the waffle iron

The Snowflake children down the street got a new puppy.

I know. And it's a chihuahua, so you know it will bite someone just like Snowflake did.

It's kind of cute, though, in an I'm-a-chihuahua kind of way.

June. Repulsing everyone who loves their stupid chihuahua since 2012.

And in case you just got here, about three blocks away from me live these extremely loud children, who I am pleased to say you see playing–actually playing–outside all the time like it's 1969, and I always stop and talk to them. Mostly because as we walk by they scream, "HI LALUUULAH! HI ETHEL!" and they always want to pet my dogs. They had an absolutely beautiful big dog named Snowflake but it bit someone (allegedly) and the dog got taken away to the pound.

The end.

And yes, person who just got here and asks the obvious questions, I DID go looking for Snowflake to snatch her up myself. Because in a million years I can't see her biting anyone. She was a sweetheart.

I have no idea what that child's t-shirt says. Something at the beach. I left my dog at the beach. I stay inside with a Wii like the other kids in America only when I'm at the beach. I will finally learn your dogs' names at the beach.

In the meantime, I been talking to them four years and know NONE of their names. They have told me, but (a) they aren't pets so it's irrelevant to me and (4) you really can't understand them half the time because they all scream at once.

In other news, …friend sent me this:

Screen Shot 2012-04-20 at 7.34.09 AM
Wait. What?

Recently, …friend, who is a tasteful as me, was trying to make a Helen Keller joke and accidentally said "Anne Frank" instead of Helen Keller. Which (a) makes no sense and (b) is horrible. I mean, I act like making jokes about Helen Keller is so much more wonderful. But anyway, the terribleness of that sent me into hysterics, because you know how I am, and this is probably why he thought of me when he saw this article.

"Oh, June is a bad person! She'll appreciate this!"

Will somebody please get me some Helen Keller sunglasses? Please? I need them. As badly as I need w-a-t-e-r.

I guess that's all I have to tell you, but really, that should be enough.

...friend/Ned · June's stupid life · Music

Say it isn’t so

"You know there's a Hall and Oates hotline," …friend told me, like it was just common knowledge and I was the last to know. And no, I don't know what we were discussing beforehand that led to this riveting disclosure.

And who cares? THERE'S A HALL AND OATES HOTLINE? You make my dreams come true!


According to …friend, you could call a number and it'd say, "For Maneater, press one. For Sara Smile, press two."

"Go ahead and call it now," encouraged …friend, who is apparently out of touch and out of time, because although I DIDN'T call it then, I put it in my phone's Google search so I'd remember to look it up later. And when I did? All anticipatory and gleeful?

It's a bitch, girl. The number no longer works. I may have to get my private eyes on this–they're watching you, stupid nonworking hotline! Cause they're on my list. I can't resist.

Okay, I'm done. I can't go for that anymore.

Hall and Oates hotline, every time you go away, you take a piece of meat with you. Marvin used to sing that, and you have no idea how many songs Marvin has ruined in my head. Also, do you like how I said I was done but kept going with the Hall and the Oates lyrics?


Why is every photo of these two so homoerotic?

And I realize I could just, you know, go on YouTube and hear any Hall and Oates tune I wanted–AND WHO DOESN'T DO THAT ALL THE TIME? but it was more exciting to CALL and get Maneater or what have you.


Why is he tired of playing Ovaltine?

So, that was my disappointment for the weekend. If I were a rich girl, maybe I could bribe them to put the Hall and Oates hotline back up.

Okay, really done now.


My baby hair with a woman's eyes will talk at you.

Right after I get my going-as-Hall-AND-Oates Halloween costume done.

...friend/Ned · Hulk's sex life · I am berserk · June's stupid life

My riveting weekend. Written by June Gardens. Spent with June Gardens. Because I’m stuck here inside my own self. Which is often mortifying.

I had a busy weekend.

The end.

Wouldn't that be irritating? If I just said that and hit "post"? I think of all kinds of ways to irritate y'all and then I just go ahead and be my regular self and irritate you anyway.

On Friday, I had to tell my temporary workplace "I need to leave on time today," which is sort of sad, that one has to do that, but that place is SO BUSY. Unsure if I've emphasized that enough. They are way busier than when I was a real employee. Which, you know, good for them. Good for the economy. Yay.

But I had stuff to do.

I was getting up with Dick Whitman, and the woman he has been seeing, and …friend. We went to an opening of an exhibit, because Dick and his Whit is a fancy artist type, man.

And yes. He DID wear his orange polka-dotted shirt again. I know y'all missed it.

Oddly, we all met at the very restaurant where DW and I had our first date way back a year ago when I had no idea we would end up repulsed by each other and just be friends instead.

I got there first, so I ordered a cranberry and soda (June. Hittin' it hard since 2012.) and took a picture of the area where DW and I had that nervous date.

See right there? Where no one is sitting? That's where we were. They don't allow anyone to sit there in honor of that auspicious occasion. Why is everyone sitting alone and looking down? What is this, the Pink Floyd Bar and Depressing Grille?

Finally, everyone in my party showed up and I took a blurry photo of …friend's salad. I wish I could make you understand how many effing salads …friend eats. "I just got back from lunch." "Oh, let me guess! What'd you have?" Seriously. I don't know how he isn't sick and tired of greens.

That said? …Friend looks really good. So I guess there are rewards to this kind of thing. I had an ahi tuna wrap. The wrap said, "Taaaaake on meeee (take on me!), taaaake me onnnn!"

I guess that'd be an a-ha tuna wrap. Anyway, I chose red and blue tortilla chips over fruit. See above re …friend's eating habits and how he looks good. Betty Draper called. Wonders if she can borrow my muumuus.

Anyway, the exhibit was cool and everything …friend and I liked, DW and his date hated. Did you ever see Manhattan?

On Saturday, I went to a Murder Mystery Party at Marty Martin's girlfriend Kaye's house.

All my pictures turned out (wait for it) blurry, and I emailed Kaye to thank her for the fun time and said, "Send me your photos for my blog" and she never did, so now you get blurry pictures and THANKS, KAYE. Thanks for RUINING MY BLOG.

Here is blurry Kaye making duck face, which I just accidentally typed "dick face" and cracked myself up cause I am in 7th grade. Anyway, she was kind of the femme fatale character.

Oh and please note I got this invite a month ago, kind of noted the date of the party, then FAILED to read the detailed invite till three hours before the bash. I had to go scrounge up a fortune-teller costume (I used my sari and my Hello Kitty 8-Ball).

So here we are, reading clues which lead us to the murder, and GUESS WHAT?

I was the one murdered.


Blurry Marty Martin, who was a mummy, had to use my pink reading glasses to read his clues. He and another friend who was there, J-9, both said, "Oh we have to read? We can't see a THING with our contacts!" I was all, "Do you have reading glasses?" And it was like a miracle. Neither one had even thought of trying reading glasses before this and they were both, "I CAN SEE!"

And crap. Now it's 8:34 and I didn't even get to Sunday but trust me. Movie and brunch with …friend. Book club with Faithful Reader LaUral.

Look how cute we are, other than my acne blemish. Hello, 46. Really? Wrinkles AND acne blemish? Thanks. And I got those earrings when I was out Friday night. Pretty, aren't they? They set off the blemish to perfection.

Anyway, I had much to say about Sunday but I will be fired if I don't get off the computer and get to work but OH! Mad Men! Poor Sally! Peggy is shacking up! Dr. Laura'd be PISSED. Joan got her figure back! I kind of like Megan.


...friend/Ned · June's stupid life · My pets

Drama in the LBC.

So I was planning to have a delightful weekend. Yes, I was. On Friday I was going out with …friend, and on Saturday after a quick trip to the vet, Tallulah and I were going to the farm to hang out with Chris and Lilly, then I was going to meet …friend's best friend, who I am supposed to think of a clever name for but once I have to be clever I never am, so all I can think to call her is …friend's best friend, and try to stitch up your sides from laughing at my rapier wit, there.

Then on Sunday my pal Poochie and I were gonna have dunch, which stands for lunch at, like, 3:00 because your lazy ass doesn't wanna get out of bed too early.

So yeah. Weekend was looking good. Partayy. Rolling down the street smokin' endo, sippin' on gin and juice. Because apparently my weekend was gonna be spent in 1993.

(Dude, it's a Snoop Dog veeedeo. Need I say not safe for work? Or anywhere, really.) (I love me the Snoop Dog. Did you ever see his TV show, Doggie Fizzle Televizzle? It was the best show ever, Sopranos be damned.) (Ima add "izzle" to the end of everything from now onzzle.) (I realize I left out the "I." Am already bad at thizzle.)

 Anyway, you know what? On Friday afternoon, as I was leaving work, right there on the street was my old pal Charlie, whom I adore.

IMG_1130Here he is, talking to everyone from work, as we all exclaimed merrily when we saw him. Charlie got laid off from that place the same day I did, and of course has bounced back, because he's Chas.

Anyway, my point is, I was all, What an auspicious start to my weekend! Wait. Does auspicious mean bad? Or just "it's a sign"? You know what I could do? Is look on Merriam-Wizzle.

IMG_1137I did see …friend on Friday. We went to First Friday, which was convenient seeing as it WAS Friday, and I wonder how many time I can say "Friday." We looked for King Friday and then we fried all day. Fo' shizzle.

First Friday (I said it again), in case you don't have them, is where the shops downtown stay open and serve wine and cheezzle and there's live music on the street, as opposed to dead-people bands, which are rarely fun. Above see a quartet playing in a window at First Friday on Friday. I think it's a quartet. Who can remember? That was way back on Friday.

IMG_1134We also popped in to my friend Kit's vintage clothing store, where she was having a sale on everything polka-dotted. How bad do you love her dress and bracelet? How bad do you love Kitzzle?

So, yeah. It was all going well. And the next day I said, Come on, Tallulah. Let's go to the vet, my nizzle. 

And that's when everything got stupid.

Because she was just there for her routine shots.

Marshall, Will and Holly. On a routine expedition. "Daddy, do something! Ahhhhhh!"

Honestly, what is wrong with my brain? Who can name that show that just popped in there?

Anyway, yes. Just in there for her routine shots, so she doesn't get all rabid Pit Bullizzle on our asses. "Is Tallulah doing okay in general?" asked the vet. "Oh!" I said, having almost forgotten. "She's got a bump on her side. Can you look at that?"

And 15 minutes later, the vet came back with the really shocking news that Talu's bump is cancer.

I mean, what the HELL. With my luck. WHAT.THE.HELL. I mean, I realize technically it's TALU's luck, but still. The cancer she has is common in dogs, and in most cases is curable. She has surgery to remove it on Friday (I got to say Friday again), and they will send it to pathology, which by the way they are ALSO doing when I have surgery in (wait for it) two Fridays, so really everyone around here is waiting for pathology results. 


So it is very likely Tallulah will be okay, but still. I've been calling her Brian's Song all weekend. My poor doggie. I took her to Chris and Lilly's farm as I had planned, but suddenly watching her play and frolic felt very Make-a-Wish.

SHE WILL BE FINE. She has to be FINE. Do you all hear me?

100_1308As upset as I was, there was no better place for me to be than on that farm. Because it's kind of my favorite place on earth. Baby horsizzle is getting big. And sassy.

100_1303And am certain I need to discuss with you how indifferent I was to the part where there are FIVE KITTENS right now.

100_1294"who hare lady? kitty skare."

100_1299Are you dying at how they look alike? If my dad were here, he'd say, "That Mendel. What a guy."

100_1288Dear dad, The mom looks just like the babies. Isn't that a miracle?

Dad is very science-y. He thoroughly enjoys when I get amazed by genetics. Genizzles.

Anyway. So, despite my traumatizedness, I carried on and went with …friend to Durham to meet his best friend, not that he's never met his best friend before, as that would be pathetic. She had a Kentucky Derby party, and I honestly think that's the first time I've ever watched the Kentucky Derby, and who knew it'd be exciting? And six seconds long?

Then …friend told me all about the OTHER horse races, and all about horse things, and I was all, Who are you? Why do you know horse things? Are you Almanzo Wilder?

And …friend's best friend? Has five dogs and three cats. She is our people. You would all love her.

Here's one of her 959594 dogs, and guess her name. GUESS! It's Iris. I KNOW! And how cute is that dog? With her speckly earses?

I was kind of thinking of taking her. I mean, Ima be down a dog soon.

June. Going to hellizzle in a handizzle.

And speaking of which, I spent the entire morning lying with old Jenny from Love Story, petting her ears and kissing her dog haunches and basically driving that relatively aloof dog berserk. Guess who just wants to tie on her bandanna and get this cancer over with so mom will GET OFF HER?

But after my Terms of Endearment morning, I did get up with Poochie for dunch.

Who's my cute friend? Is it Poozizzle?

Ima let you guess who ordered the salad and who got the cheesy meatball hoagie.

So there you have it. M'dog gots cancer. Or can-sa, as they pronounce it in TinyTown. But I know my girl will be okay. Because God would never leave me with Edsel as the alpha dog. I mean, that doesn't even make sense. Lily would have to take over, for heaven's sake. You know? It ain't fittin'.

Oh and before I go, I did want to say:


God I'm annoyizzle.

...friend/Ned · I am berserk · June's stupid life

In which …friend is woefully straight

I forgot to tell you something about my weekend. I KNOW. How many more ding-dang things are there to TELL about a 48-hour span?

On Friday night (and I know you're worried Ima say "Friday" 600 times like I did on my last post), when …friend and I went to First Friday (I said it again) festivities, we were wandering around downtown, and he said, "You wanna go in the midcentury modern furniture store and look at your good-looking man?"


Why I gotta tell everybody everything? Like, I don't even KNOW when I spilled the beans to …friend about the spectacular man at that store, but it was probably at some point when I first met him, and he said, "I live downtown" and I probably said, "Oh, do you know the spectacular-looking man who owns the midcentury modern furniture store?"

Because I have no STOP button, is why. Do Undo. No Escape key. And other stupid computery examples of how I never shut up.

My POINT is, I said, "Oh, no. Let's not."

"Oh, come on," said …friend, who does not appear to be threatened by anything. As we headed there, I said, "You know, I've blogged about the Midcentury Modern Furniture Man a couple times, and I always worry that somehow he KNOWS that, and when he sees me he's scared to death."

"I think he'll see me and feel sorry for me," said …friend. "Midcentury Guy is looking at me and thinking, 'Look at that poor sap. Little does he know I could just snap my fingers and that woman would come away with me.'"

…friend doesn't read my blog, so Ima just tell you something in confidence. At this point, if Barry effing Gibb called me, I'd say, "You know? I'm kinda into this …friend guy at the moment. Maybe some other time, Barry Gibb."


Anyway, we were about half a block away when I noticed Midcentury Guy leaning against his store. "THEREHEISTHEREHEIS!" I screeched in a whisper, grabbing …friend's arm in what I'm sure was a not-annoying way.

"Really?" said …friend, after I gave the most fake-casual hello and walked into the furniture store. "THAT'S Spectacular-Looking Midcentury Furniture Store Guy? He just looks like a normal person to me."


This is why I need to be dating gay men. There is NO WAY Midcentury Guy is anywhere NEAR average. In any universe. Ever.

A normal person. For heaven's sake. I never heard anything so wrong in my life. And anyway, my fun was ruined, because every time Midcentury Guy was near us at the store, I knew …friend was watching me with mockingness, and mockingness is in fact one of the first words ever created in our Mother Tongue and it is a lovely word, and anyway it took all the wonderful clandestine pervyness out of the whole thing.

So that's all I have to tell you about that.

June. Getting her stalking ruined since 2012.

…friend. Being straight and not knowing from hot men since, well, since probably forever. But at least since Friday, which please note I just got to say again.