Faithful Readers · Film · Giveaway

Sandra Dee O A

Yesterday we had a contest to name the disgusting nail polish color I got during this past unfortunate manicure.

IMG_2982Maybe I could have named it Focus.

Anyway, the winner is…

Silly Putty Fuddy Duddy, thought up by Deb, Who is Back to Being Deb. I have no idea who she used to be, but there it is.

Honorable mention goes to the suggestions…

  • Cockblocker
  • Marvin Made His Mauve
  • Talk to the Bland
  • Unexcited Labia
  • Sandra Dee O A
  • Cadaver Grabber
  • Oh My Liverwurtz

Really, so many of them killed me that Ned and I had to come up here and read them all and take a little vote.

Look at June, making lemons out of lemonade. Getting three blog posts and a contest out of one bad nail color. Anyway, Deb who has returned to being Deb from god knows what, send me your address and you will get your prize of Finger Hands.

You know. One day.

In the meantime, last night Ned had some kind of conference or meeting or job thing he had to go to, and I had my student. I left work, screamed home, fed everyone and let the dogs out, only to discover that flowers had bloomed in our yard. That was exciting.

IMG_2998Crocusesses! Is that the correct way to pluralize it?

IMG_3003These…purple-y flowers behind the bird house!

IMG_3002Daffodils with St. Francis!

I also talked with the neighbor behind me, who has a dog named Fewoosoqwqz. I can never remember that dog's name. Name your dog something people will fucking remember, folks. And if you're too stupid to know what an Edsel is in the course of history, that's your problem.

Anyway, their dog, Fzwzzywg, and the other dog in the other yard back there, Ozzy (see? Easy to remember) and MY dogs are all friends, or maybe enemies. I can't tell. They bark bark bark and run up and down the fence line together, so it SEEMS like they're friends, and it's not at all annoying when all four are talking at once. Jesus.

Anyway, the neighbor's name is Brandy, she's a fine girl, and I'm sure she's not sick of that song. I have a coworker, Molly, who by the way I've been going to lunch with a lot lately, and could she be more popular? Dudes, I am not kidding, everywhere we go, EVERYWHERE WE GO, more than one person will be all, "MOLLY!" like it's made their whole day that they've run into her. She knows everyone.

The point is, when the product Molly McButter came out, she said her life was miserable for awhile. My coworker Austin said his life was similarly hellish when those Austin Powers movies came out, and he wished he could have had, "Yeah, baby!" yelled at him just a little more often.

So, after all that, I screamed to meet my student, and she's usually there before me, but yesterday she wasn't. I got me another Shamrock Shake (shut up) and got my laptop going, not my literal lap, because weird, but my computer. At 6:08, I thought, wow, she's really late, then I decided to check my phone, and there were four messages from her.

And right then I knew, she wasn't going to make it. It must be something to behold my genius.

IMG_3016Fortunately for me, they were showing Top Hat, starring Ginger Rogers and similarly Fred Astaire, at the old theater I like. Ned had really wanted to go, but of course he had his work thing. I texted him to let him know I was headed there.

Son of a bitch, he texted back.

Just like Molly, I ran into people I know, but they didn't act like seeing me was the second coming. They didn't even breathe hard.

IMG_3018I like to sit in the balcony there, so I did, but this time they had an organ player, so I sneaked in a shot of him playing Your Cheatin' Heart. I am not even kidding. It's the South.

I sent this shot to Ned.

Son of a BITCH, he texted back.

IMG_3021I also sneaked in a shot of my own self, about to have popcorn for dinner. I guess my Shamrock Shake was an appetizer.

You'll never guess the plot. At first, Ginger Rogers hates Fred Astaire. Then there's a case of (wait for it) mistaken identity. Then it gets all farcical and they fall in love.

Spoiler alert.

Also, there is dancing and singing. Ginger Rogers wore this dress that was to die for.

Top_Hat5It had, like, this sparkly thing in the front, too, and I just feel like it was a pale pink. Oh, the depression was a lovely time for dresses no one could afford.

After the movie, I went home and got to sit on my porch swing, till Ned got home and got on there with me and made it swing and made me feel barfy. The end.

Why can't boys just sway gently on the porch swing? Why they gotta make it fly around like they're 12? All men are still 12.

Okay, I must go put on my top hat and brush some tails or something.



Giveaway · June's stupid life

Contest! Win big! Best Contest Ever…Hands Down.

6a00e54f9367fb883401b8d0e7ee18970c-800wiYou've all been so funny in the comments already today that I've decided to have a contest. Whoever comes up with the worst best name for this color gets a fabulous prize, a prize I will very likely never send, but still.

Anyone who already thought of funny names, repeat them here and you will be in the contest, because Melted Barbie Flesh is hilarious.

Screen Shot 2015-03-10 at 11.48.31 AMThe winner will receive a nice gift of finger hands, maybe one day. I know!

Okay, go. Name this horrific polish.


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

June in June

I got paid this weekend, which, wooooo! So I went to the Target, over yonder, and bought me a scale. Yes, there's one at work, but I wanted my own. You know what I like? Is when someone says "own personal." Is it? Is it your own personal thing? Thanks, redundant person who is also repeaty.

The point is, I was tempted buy the $39.99 one that gives your water and fat and BMI and TMI and how pretty you look today on a scale from 1-10, but I went for the $7.99 scale instead, because if you all have said it once: Stop being so frugal, June.

Ned got on it right away, as soon as we got home. So to speak. But seeing as I'm a girl and all, I waited till this morning when I could not possibly weigh less.

And? The numbers are too small. Honest to god. I can't see the goddamn numbers. If I COULD see the scale, it'd say, "Dear June. Hoooo care what you weigh, seeing as you're clearly 109."


So, scale giveaway! It's been stepped on twice, and by two major celebrities such as June and Ned. Leave a comment and you know I'll get right on sending it out to you.

After we bought the scale, which sounds like a euphemism but isn't, Ned said, "Would you mind going to the shoe store with me? I need new shoes."

Would I mind going to the shoe store. Pfft. The problem is, and I hope you are all sitting down, Ned had trouble deciding on which shoes, and actually wanted my help. He takes me to a shoe store, with sparkly pretty wedge heels and silver sandals with dangles and doos, and wants me to be over there at boring boy-shoe part? Seriously?

As he was trying on the first pair, I clomped over in a four-inch wedge with a sort of denim stripey strap. "Cute, or slutty?" I asked twisting my foot around for him. Ned was trying on a boring boy shoe.

"Sort of both," he said, "and isn't that the point?"

"It IS the point, but I'll keep looking."

"June. JUNE!" Ned called after me.


"Do you like this boring boy shoe?"

"Sure," I said, trying to make my escape.



"Here are 72 more boy shoes. Will you let me try them all on and you give me your input?"

There is a girl at work who yells out, "SON OF A BISCUIT" when work things bug her. I assure you that's not what I was yelling out in my head.

Every time Ned would tie on a new shoe, I'd slink off to look at more girl shoes, and what makes me a terrible person is that when I'd come back, he'd always actually have an opinion. "The first ones were bettter" or "Do you really think those are a color that goes with anything you have?" (I have PLENTY of things that go with sequin. Sequin is totally a color.)

The good news is, we both got shoes. The ones Ned is wearing were NOT the ones I picked for him, so all that JUNE-ing me was for naught. At one point I said, "I told you the ones I like. Why are we still discussing the other pair?" and he said, "Just let me try to talk you into these."

I had no idea shopping for boring boy shoes could be such a chore.

IMG_0552BUT LOOK HOW CUTE MY SHOES ARE. And I totally needed shoes. Needed.

I took that picture at a restaurant, where I ordered this:

IMG_0554because we'd just come from the movie Fed Up, which I can summarize for you. Sugar is killing us. Sugar is everywhere.

So there you go. Ned got this:

IMG_0553Doesn't that all look fucking delicious? There's sugar in the bread and in the ketchup and probably in the fries because the movie also said processed potatoes were bad and sometimes you wanted to tell Katie Coric to shutthefuckup.

In other news, on Saturday Ned was coming over to sand my ceilings, which sounds like another euphemism but isn't, and while I was awaiting his arrival my phone rang. It was my friend Charlie, the one who is paralyzed. "I invited you to my birthday party, which is today, on Facebook. I kept thinking, 'Why isn't that bitch RSVPing?' when I finally saw you don't have Facebook anymore."

I have never seen such a hulabaloo over anything in my life. It's SOCIAL MEDIA. I temporarily took a break from something that's supposed to be entertaining, and people act like I gave up having an arm. The point is, if Charlie calls me special to attend his party, I'm attending his party.

So Ned sanded my celinings (hooo haaaa) while I got ready, and he went to the thing looking like a building had collapsed on him, with the dust and so on, but it was also very manly and who doesn't like that? There was a couple at the party who'd gotten married that day, early in the woods or something, and had already had their reception and had some downtime before joining their friends. I don't think I've ever just hung out with people who'd been married that day when I wasn't part of their wedding day. It was cool. They looked great, and also 12.

One guy came in, a handsome gay guy, and when he did, Charlie and his girlfriend both said, "Oh my god. June and Rich are in the same room together." Rich, the handsome G.G., looked at me. "I'm going to guess you're inappropriate." It was all I could do not to turn around and present, like a monkey.

Dudes, his name–and I am not kidding–is Rich Jew. "My parents hated me," he said. And I am in love love love love!!!! Oh, Rich Jew is hilarious and so cute and so hilarious. I said to Ned, "You know who I am infatuated with, right?"

He knew.

Charlie had us all introduce ourselves and then he decided (thanks to me, because I am wonderful) that instead of saying one thing about ourselves that we should say something wonderful about Charlie. I introduced myself as Rich Jew's wife. I couldn't help it.

"I LOVE HIM! HOW AM I GOING TO BE HIS BEST BEST BEST FRIEND FOREVER?" I asked Ned. "Try not to scare him to death, step one," said Ned, who is too cool for his own good. My point is, I may have to get back on Facebook so I can oh-so-casually friend Rich Jew, then become his fag hag for life. Do the young folk say "fag hag"?

Charlie's party was held in the early evening, so we had time to go eat, as well, Ned and me (and sadly not my new best friend the wealthy Yid). Our waiter was super cool and drew pictures on our to-go boxes.


IMG_0545I guess those are all the things I have to tell you, other than IT IS JUNE, which is an ancient joke between my friend Dot and me. One night we were leaving our organized, tidy college house to go to a party at what was likely another organized college house, when Dottie decided to turn back and get a sweater.

I was impatient with this, because as you can tell from Ned's boy shoe story, everyone else's needs come first for me. So when Dottie turned back to the house, I sighed. "You don't need a sweater. IT IS JUNE."

Except it wasn't. It was still May. So my grouse was sort of, oh, stupid then. Once I got Dottie a Christmas tree ornament that I had IT IS JUNE painted on. When I got to my computer last night, she'd sent me an email that just read IT IS JUNE.

I was totally pissed because I was getting on to email her the same thing. Anyway, it's my month. June in June.

Which sounds like a euphemism but isn't.

P.S. Don't let me forget to tell you about how Ned walked my dogs and they were good even when a little dog ran RIGHT UNDER Edsel. And I mean it about the scale. Sign up now. Act now.

P.P.S. Goddammit. Here's my latest Purple Clover, about if I had a year to live.

...friend/Ned · Books · Faithful Readers · Giveaway · June's stupid life · My pets

Hi! Hi! Bye Bye, Pie!

IMG_2023See what I did, there? My roots and I waited till Saturday, when no one would read this, to write my "Here's everything I said I'd eventually come back and blog about" post.

Have you actually been sitting here for two months, growing cobwebs–making this literally a website–with the Match Game thinking music in your head, waiting for me to come back and wrap everything up? Because, you poor thing.

Who can't get enough of herself for finding the Match Game thinking music? And her website joke? I guess I went off and got.even.funnier. Who knew that was possible?

Anyway, hi. How are all y'all? When I left here two months ago I said I owed you some tying up of the loose ends, and here I am tying them.

First of all, Myssie1963 has won my friend Jo Maeder's book, Opposites Attack, and seeing as I had the ding-dang giveaway IN JUNE (the month, not in myself, which would be sort of gross), I hope Myssie still wants the book and is still alive and so forth. I'll see if I can't find an email address for her, but if anyone knows Myssie, go tell her she won the book. Why do you think she calls herself Myssie1963? Do you think she was a big fan of the Kennedy assassination, or what?

Anyway, that's done. Let's talk about poor BStar next.

Dottie Headshot
So, I knew the other things I had to tie up, here, included TRYING to get everyone's photo on here from back in 1918 when I said, "Oh! Send me your picture and I'll put it up on my blog!" and then seven hundred and forty-nine MILLIONTY of you sent in a picture, and every once in awhile I'd dig through email to find more photos you sent in, and then I'd get confused. "Did I put this one up already? Didn't I?" and the whole thing turned into a NIGHTMARE requiring ALL CAPS to discuss.

I also knew that at some point in 1542, I awarded some highly coveted Abraham Lincoln Band-Aids to a reader, and I never, ever got those band-aids off to the big winner. In fact, some OTHER reader SENT me Abraham Lincoln Band-Aids just so I'd finally effing send them, and guess what's still unopened and unsent on my bathroom shelf?

The other day, I was looking through the nightmare that is these photos you guys sent me, and I wrote to this person, above, B Star. "Dear B Star," I wrote, "Did I ever put your photo on my blog?" "No," she replied.

So I set her picture aside, and then I looked into the whole band-aid debacle, and I promise you Abraham Lincoln's entire presidency and pesky war of the states was less complex than wrapping up this blog. His insurance paperwork for committing that wife was less difficult. Combing his beard was less taxing.

Insert getting-home-from-the-theater joke here.

My point is, after 86 hours of researching seven years of daily blogging, I finally found the post where someone won the DING-DANG Abe Lincoln Band-Aids, and that winner?

Was B Star.

"Were you the most neglected reader EVER?" I wrote her? "Give me your address, and I will mail these forthwith." She wrote back, and she lives, like, .00003 miles away. Seriously. Poor B Star.

And without further ado–seriously, not one more do–here are the rest of the photos, I think, that you all sent me that time I told you to send me your photo. If yours never made it in, you either didn't title it exactly BLOG PHOTO, or I screwed up. You know. Things happen, man.

Here's Gretchen, who when she SENT this in 2 B.C., said she was the person who gave me useless migraine advice. Thanks, Gretchen. In case anyone is worried sick, my head has been PARTICULARLY ludicrous lately, and am currently drugged to the gills with both Prednisone AND Topamax. Would remove own head with cleaver were that possible. I mean, I guess it IS possible, but it'd make for a dull rest of this post.

-3We all know who this is. This is Joann, who is my friend in real life, who ALWAYS participated in "send me your photo" day, and who just got past a RIDICULOUS health scare, but who is fine. I adore Joann very much. You go, Joann. You back that ass up. You raise the roof. You give good love. You, you got what I need. But you say he's just a friend. Yeah, you say he's just a friend. OH BABY YOU.


Who misses me? And my linear thoughts. Anyone?


-1Okay, dudes, am I crazy? Here's Deb in Denver, but doesn't it feel like we already SAW Deb in Denver before? Is it just that I've seen these pictures now 48 times in my email, or what? Oh, this project. Did I mention it was a mistake?

Mel_10_25This is Melanie. Back in 2008, Melanie won the lovely turquoise pleated Totie Fields dress I gave away, and when I did the giveaway I posed in said dress:

6a00e54f9367fb88340115709d7423970b-800wiAnd then Melanie got the dress and did this:

6a00e54f9367fb88340115709d74b5970b-800wiand I have loved her ever since.

-4This is Emily, who I remember writing to back in 1698 when I did the "send in your photo" thing, to thank her for titling it correctly, because she was the first person that day to not call it "picture" or "blawg foto" or whatever. I showed my gratitude by making her wait through nine presidential terms before her picture got up here.

MeandheidiCaron is the one in glasses. She tells her friend, there, to read my blog, but that friend only reads when told. YOU KILLED MY BLOG, FRIEND.

Deb in maine-2This teensy little put-it-in-your-wallet picture is of Deb in Maine. It came this way, this small picture. It's not my fault. Anyway, I know Deb read me forever, and I belive she is my Facebook friend, which means we have a deep and meaningful relationship. Deb and June, TLA.

Okay, so that's it. If I MISSED your picture, I sincerely apologize. You have no idea what a pain that was. I should have made a folder on my desktop and plopped everyone's pictures in as they came in, but perhaps you and I have not met. I am not what you would call organized. I know. I hope you were just braced.

So, now, our loose ends are tied up. And in case you are wondering, everyone is fine.

IMG_2166Iris continues to murder everything that remotely has the nerve to live within our back yard. There was a dead possum back there recently, and I am hoping against hope it died of natural causes. Because if that teensy sightless cat got a possum, my neighbor Peg is next.

IMG_1878Lu will be six next month, and I kind of feel like mostly she wonders why I felt the need to add to the pet collection, as I was doing great with just her. Mostly I feel like she kind of has a point.

100_1709Lily. Superior. The end.

IMG_2066Last month was the year anniversary of when someone put that puppy, Violet, in my car, so I drove out to the fire station and visited said puppy, who as you can see is no puppy anymore. She is Tallulah-sized, and she got right on my lap and sniff-sniff-sniffed my head. If you ask me, she knew just who I was. I was so happy to see her.

IMG_2321Edsel has the biggest news of all, because he's decided to become my running pal. Yes. My running pal.

Like an idiot, I signed up for a half-marathon, which I will run in April, and I'm going to train with Edsel, at least for the lower miles. I don't know that you're supposed to make your dog run 13 miles, even a dog like Eds.

IMG_2327Of course some days I'll take Talu, but she has never liked running all that much, and ever since she got hit by that car, her hips are a little stiff. Plus, I don't know if you've gleaned this through the years, but Edsel has a lot of what you might call The Energy. So. Although sometimes, as shown above, he can slow me down. What with his NEEDS and all.

IMG_2325At any rate, we're having a good time, and maybe I will have fewer hips and migraines, so yay. Oh, and does anyone have any headphone recommendations for running? Because could these FALL OUT MORE OFTEN? And could that be MORE IRRITATING? Exercise is so good for your moods.

IMG_2224And yes. I am still with Ned. I just love me some Ned. I pretty much think Ned is my person, and that's all I have to say about that. Tonight we're getting up with Dick Whitman and his woman, and I will tell Ned and DW you all said hello.

IMG_2185Thanks, everyone, for coming back for the tie-up post, which sounds dirtier than it was. I hope you're all Brett Sommers happy, and that your hips and migraines are few.



Giveaway · June's stupid life

God save the wax queen

Yesterday, I had another of my hard-hitting, inciting-envy giveaways. Y'all had to guess who these very recognizable people were, from what is clearly a quality wax museum:

286I think what we all need to do is get together for some kind of Bye Bye Piefest at this wax museum. Because, ridiculous? The problem is, I don't wanna say where it is and get sued or anything.

So, Faithful Reader SBtar correctly ID everyone in their wax, and about an hour later in the comments I wrote that no one had guessed it yet, and then my friend Dot–who had GONE to this stunning wax museum like it was good–wrote me and said, "BStar guessed it." I was all, "She DID?" Am certain it comforts you all that I read your comments so carefully.

The first one, believe it or not, is supposed to be Queen Elizabeth. I KNOW! And then most of you guessed right that for some reason that's Elvis as a waiter in a diner, and Michael J. Fox. I should have blooped out the background.

So, email me, BStar, for your fabulous gift.

I know, dude. You are so welcome.

In other unwaxy news, this week is Faithful Reader and Friend in Real Life Jo's birthday!

IMG_2151We had lunch to celebrate. She had a waffle with an egg in the middle. Hang on. I think I took a photo of it.

IMG_2153I did! God, I am excellent. Please note that Jo hangs out at this particular restaurant so much that she has her own coffee mug. Latte mug. Whatever. The point is, she is totally Norm on Cheers.

Tonight she is having a bash at a restaurant right across the street from Ned's house, so that's convenient for us. And Ned took tomorrow off, so PARTAYYY! We could be out till TEN or something.

Actually, Ned is a late-night person. Sometimes I'll say I'm tired and he'll be all, "It's not even 1:00 yet." Okay, Vampira. Girlfriend is old. Tallulah's been in REM three hours, and I would be too if I weren't hanging around you.

Doesn't a poached egg sound good now, looking at Jo's food up there? I have no eggs. I know this is shocking information for you. I do have fish sticks and some Amy's burritos. I am pathetic.

Anyway, so that's what I'm doing tonight. Celebrating the event of Jo's birth. At a restaurant where Ned and I had our second date. If you think about it, that was a clever move on his part, going somewhere right across the street from his pad. "Sayyy, would you…like to see my cat condo? It's right across the street."

In fact, he didn't do that. He didn't even TRY to invite me in to his swinging bachelor abode. As I recall, we ate and then he drove me home. Now I'm kind of mad. Was I REPULSIVE to him? Why didn't he try to lure me to his place? God!

Do you like this? Now when I talk to him today I'll be that woman. "…Oh. Hi. No, nothing's wrong. {sniff}"

Oh! Oh, oh! And before I forget, some of you in the comments said we should have an Ask Ned day, so go ahead and ask Ned any questions you have. I presented this idea to him last night, and he seemed…cautious. Kind of like how he was cautious about stampeding up to his place when we were right across the street back in January and I'm just getting mad about it now.

My point is, I told him he only had to answer the Qs he wanted to, so keep that in mind.

I will go now, maybe have some fish sticks, but I did want to leave you with this.

I saw the towheaded children in my neighborhood again last night, the ones who used to own Snowflake before Snowflake's tragic demise.

IMG_2165This time they called my dog "Tatoola." They don't even acknowledge Edsel, which I think is because the name throws them too much and also because the whole time I talk to them he is making himself invisible behind my knees. They have never managed to touch that creature even once. Lu stands and patiently gets her head petted, even though you can tell she'd rather not. She feels about children the way I do.


IMG_2170I do like those kids, though, because they actually play. Outside. You never see that anymore. And yes. I DO want to go back there and tidy everything up.

Anyway, thanks for playing "Identify the wax figures" with me, and I agree that looks absolutely nothing like Queen Elizabeth. Oh, and don't forget to ask Ned whatever.

Giveaway · June's stupid life · Marvin

Spike. In my blood pressure. Also, June waxes on.

My sink’s water filter broke, and I know you wonder how I am able to carry on, and let me tell you I almost didn’t. Am I just supposed to go around drinking BAD CARCINOGENIC WATER from now on? Because, unacceptable.

I made the fatal error of phonng Marvin to see if he had any idea of how to fix said broken water filter, and does anyone remember that Marvin used to bug me? Because I DO. It just ALL CAME BACK to me.

He let me tell him the whole story of how it broke (the thing won’t go back on the thing) and what I tried and my theories about what it could be that broke it, and after all that he said, “Yeah. I have no idea.”


I forgot to tell you that he managed to not only bug me during that fruitless phone call (Ned was working. This is why I plundered my past for water filter help. Ned and that pesky need to make a living. Can’t his job just be ensuring my comfort and clean water at all times? And what do you MEAN lucky Marvin?), he also managed to bug me from afar the other day with the popcorn salt.

I like things on my popcorn that have nothing to do with butter (blech) or salt. This, in fact, is one of the many reasons I like Ned. He, too, abhors butter on his popcorn. Every week we go to the movies and split a giant tub of (“GodDAMMIT, I like popcorn”) popcorn, and nearly every week the kid says, “Butter?” and we both screech, “NO!” like they’re taking away our free will or something.

So generally I put Spike or Mrs. Dash–or in my case, Mrs. Kind of Trot–on my popcorn, and I also live large and put Parmesan cheese on there, or if I’m really lucky, nutritional yeast. Poke fun at me all you want. It’s good. You just have to remember to get the nutritional yeast at the hippie co-op, is the problem there.

But the other day I made popcorn and I was out of Mrs. Kind of Trot, so I got on a chair and searched the depths of my spice cupboard for something else. And lo and behold, there at the very back was some cheese-flavored popcorn salt from God knows when. From when I was married, at least, as I was about to find out the hard way.

“Yay! Cheesy salt!” I thought, and let me tell you, odder things come out of this brain in the course of a day. I took the lid off and shook. And shook. And shook it like a Polaroid picture. Because 2004 called.



I pounded the side of the exciting cheesy salt.


Finally I looked closely. Marvin. Marvin, who’s been gone a year and a half, had done the thing to the salt. My cheesy salt.

You know how you get a food item now, and more often than not you remove the lid–let’s use peanut butter as an example–and for who knows what reason they now put a foil-ish kind of SECOND lid underneath? And you have to peel that stupid lid off to get to the real food? (Do they think this really keeps people from tampering? Do you not think if you were diabolical enough to want to tamper with peanut butter you’d be man enough to circumvent the flimsy lid?)

Well. Marvin? Never removed those aluminumy second lids.

It’s like he was SUCH a busy executive that he couldn’t take time. It was like the house was aflame, but he just needed one dip of peanut butter before saving the pets from the licking inferno. He’d peel a LITTLE of it, then leave it in tact, sort of pat it back down. Because apparently MY job was to take off the whole thing at some later date.

So the salt? My cheesy salt? My big find at the back of the shelf? Marvin had poked the world’s tiniest hole in it, so just one grain of salt could get out per pour. It’s like he must have used a pin, and poked a hole THROUGH ONE OF THE PLASTIC SALT SHAKER OPENINGS, to get a Lilliputian drop of salt out of that thing.

Guess who is lucky he doesn’t live here anymore? Because guess whose next colonoscopy would suggest he’s gettin’ a little too personal with Lot’s Wife? Guess who’d have condiments in each of his nethers? And no, I have no idea what “nethers,” plural, means, either. I’m mad. Cut me some slack.

And in case you’re worried sick, I bought me some original flavor Mrs. Dash yesterday. And I peeled off the lid completely.

In other pressing news, my old friend Dot sent me this.

322Dot knows what a huge Yoko fan I am, and also how much I enjoy hearing about her three-ways with celebrities.

“Okay, where WAS this? Because those are the worst replicas of John and Yoko I’ve ever seen,” I wrote her. “Oh, we went to a wax museum,” Dot told me, “and no one there looked remotely like anyone was supposed to. It was hilarious.”

And that, friends, is how I decided to have a giveaway (I KNOW! You know how good my giveaways are. And how I hop right on getting your winnings to you.). The first person to actually guess who these inexplicably bad wax figures are wins a brand-new, super-exciting, chosen just for youuuuu….

Screen Shot 2012-08-29 at 12.39.34 PM…box of Abraham Lincoln bandages.

I KNOW! Honest!

Get it? Do you? Be sure to take them to the theater, in case you get wounded.

June. Tasteful and appropriate since 1965.

Okay, here we go. Who the hell are these wax people?


Good luck. I mean, I don’t want to put too much pressure on you, but again. Abe Lincoln bandages.

I’ll even peel the lid off the package, if it has one.

Giveaway · June's stupid life · My pets

A post about my cats. Surprise!

I've been waiting to tell you this until it was for sure going well, but Anderson Cooper doesn't live here anymore.

I know!

Marvin was saying that he was going to get another cat, because Henry was sad and meowing and bored, and he was even considering licking Henry himself, because that's what Winston used to do. I suggested this might be crossing the I-heart-cats threshold.

I thought about it and offered him Anderson. I thought if I got kittens, they'd grow up okay around dogs, and certainly that's been the case with Roger, who splays on top of the dogs to sleep, and leaps up onto Edsel's head and stays there just for yucks and so forth. But Anderson was always scared of them, and whenever he walked across the room, the stupid dogs would chase his delicate self.

You always found Anderson hunkered up high on something.

"I think he'd be happier with just a cat friend," I said. "I LOVE Anderson!" said Marvin.

Can I just tell you that when I met Marvin he was unfamiliar with cats, and all awkward around them, and I consider it a personal victory that I have turned him into a cat-loving girly man?

Anyway, Marvin got him over a week ago and I am happy to report that Anderson is so happy. He and Henry are playing and running around and Anderson gets to actually run across the floor and there was only one hiss out of Henry initially.

I didn't mean to put this picture in, but you can see how deeply concerned Roger is about losing a brother.

Photo on 11-20-11 at 4.22 PM #2
Here's the picture I meant to put in. I will miss my little gay cat. But I think I did the right thing by him. "I'll try not to lose this one," Marvin said.

While we're on the subject of my cats, and hi, Hulk, we have a winnah! in the photo caption contest.

"rodger in junk drawer. rodger wish he still had junk. in his drawers."

Yes, Faithful Reader Funny in my Mind was funny outside of her mind. Send me your address, FIMM! You get the yodeling pickle! Christmas has come early.

An honorary pickle goes to the disqualified-before-the-contest-began Paula, because we all knew she'd be effing hilarious. She came up with about 47 captions, including:

"Oh, Miss Gardens, thank you for coming in. I have the results of your cat scan right here."

"I hate this desk job."

"Do these drawers make me look fat?"

"Man. Pete Campbell's office IS cramped." (That's only funny if you like Mad Men, WHICH YOU SHOULD.)

"NOBODY puts Roger in a drawer."

Paula. Killing all of us since whenever the hell she found this blog.

I must go, but before I do, let's start the good deeds thing. Because I don't still have your photo project to do and a statistics textbook deadline and this house doesn't look like Sanford & Son's house or anything.

Every year I like to do this on my blog to make myself break out in hives–too late! But it's a nice thing to do and we all end up liking it, except for Jan and Steve.

We pair up with each other cyberly and do good deeds for December. So all you have to do is write in the comments: "I'm in!" and then I will at a later date (maybe Friday?) pair you up with your good-deeds partner. So please be "in" by Wednesday at midnight.

And the good deed should be generally free or very low-cost. Open the door for someone whose arms are full of packages. Put quarters in all the parking meters down a street. Anonymously leave cookies for your old-lady neighbor. Whatever. Nothing huge, nothing fussy. Just come back here before Christmas and let us know in the comments what your good deed is, and your partner will return the favor with a good deed of his or her own.

Who is in?

Giveaway · June can't keep a man · June's stupid life

June torments Tall Boy and has a giveaway (No, I am not giving away Tall Boy) (That would be funny, though)

Last night, I had Thai food with the Tall Boy. Who is delighted to have her phone back, do you think?

Anyway, Tall Boy is a vegetarian, and I wish I could be one because I love me the animals but also they are so darn delicious. My point is, it seems like it must be a pain in the arse to be a vegetarian. "I'll have the spring rolls, but without shrimp."

"You want chicken in the spring roll?"

"No! NO! Not chicken. Just no shrimp."

It's like the whole world is a meat obstacle course. Anyway, my cashew chicken came, because I'm sensitive that way (I asked if he'd mind if I had them kill it right at the table) and Tall Boy said, "What's that on your plate? Is that a big mushroom? It looks good."

"That is a piece of CHICKEN," I said. "Would you like to try it?"

"Yeah. I really do. I am meat-curious," said Tall Boy, with the enthusiasm of Kristen Stewart.

My point is, because he did not help me eat it, I had leftovers, so I put them in Tall Boy's refrigerator, where I have never looked before. It was a monumental night. I saw Tall Boy's fridge.

Is it just me, or is this a tidy refrigerator? I mean, for a boy. The little stacks of Tupperware, how the butter is right next to the bread. I don't know. Maybe it IS just me.

Look how the garlic sit in their own slot. It's disturbing, yet kind of reassuring. Maybe I am just used to slobbeldy Marvin, who would have the milk way back so you have to knock everything else over to get it, and the garlic would be rotting on the counter. That's what I'm used to.

At any rate, who was completely over me and my cell phone by the night's end? "Oooo! Can I take a picture of this? You want to see this app?" I am a fun date.  Really in the moment.

In other news, I got a gift yesterday from Faithful Reader Texas Kari. She felt bad because she told me she was the woman who looked at me on OK Cupid, which lead me to send said woman a rather forward message, when in fact Texas Kari was lying through her Texan teeth.

But look! Here's Topol, the smoker's tooth polish! Do you remember that commercial? What is wrong with me? Compile a list.

What I WANTED to say was, look! Look how cute her little package was, with the tissue and lace and the little tag. Am so stealing this idea.

(It was because she had a cute package that I tried to pick her up on OK Cupid. Whooooo-hahhhh!)

IMG_0022"edzul not like dis ideeya. not madogga."

IMG_0021She sent me vintage Christmas kitty pillowcases!!!!!!

Who better to receive such a thing? Hmmm? WHO BETTER? Love them. Thanks, Texas Kari. And it all worked out. That woman on OK Cupid and I have had a few dates and am working up nerve to kiss her. (It was actually another faithful reader who looked at me that day. She emailed me on OK Cupid to tell me. In case anyone wonders, she and I have 84% compatibility on OK Cupid and we really should give things a try.) (Apparently I am meat-curious today, too.)

I must go, as I am in statistics-book-proofreading hell, which explains why I went gallivanting around to Thai restaurants all night, but before I go, we are gonna have a little contest here at Bye Bye, Pie.

Whoever comes up with the best caption for this wins a yodeling pickle. You must think of it by midnight tonight–whenever that is for you. I'm just saying when I get up tomorrow time is up.

Should we just disqualify Paula H&B right away, because she is funnier than all of us put together?

I know you do not want to miss out on winning THIS. I wish my pickles wore leiderhosen. What gives? Also, my pickles are more whiskey connoisseurs.

Here is the photo again.

It's just like Reader's Digest or something, isn't it? Good luck! Good luck winning that yodeling pickle, which I won't take 700 years to finally send you or anything.

Faithful Readers · Giveaway · June can't keep a man · June's stupid life

Shallow superficial June

I have so much to tell you I could spit up. Fortunately, I have no real plans to spit up.

So obviously yesterday I felt bad. Bad bad bad. One of my coworkers said to me, "Your face when I first saw you walk in the door? Has haunted me. Do you need to go out and get a big giant drink with me or something?"

I love my coworkers. I really do. I didn't even TELL y'all about going out with them Friday night. But I have too much to tell you to get off on that tangent. (Someone got an espresso martini and it looked DELICIOUS. She was an awake drunk.)

At any rate, there I was, feeling sad about he-who-must-not-be-mentioned, and having a big cloud over me, and thinking dramatic thoughts. Am I the only one who breaks up with someone and gets the dramatic thoughts? "I will NEVER love ANYONE this much AGAIN! I will NEVER find ANYONE like that EVER. This was it. He was the ONNNNNE for meeeeee! Even though he made me miserable! Wooooooaaaahhhh is meeeee!"

Do you? Do you do this too? Please tell me this is not like how I am the only person whose mouth got numb eating grapefruit and I thought it was a universal experience but instead oops! I am allergic to grapefruit.

But guess what. Guess what happened. On Monday? When I told y'all about how things were not gonna work out after all with HWMNBM? I got an email. I mean, I got a lot of emails, from my real-life friends, and from all of y'all, and basically everyone was the bomb.

But this was a special email. It was from a woman who had briefly dated Daniel do-not-mention, and apparently he had told her about my blog. "I only dated him a bit, but I've been reading you ever since," she told me. She went on to tell me all sorts of encouraging things about how I am fabulous and lovely and the smartest, most desireable woman on planet Earth.

Perhaps she did not lay it on that thick. But it was implied. Because all that stuff is a given.

Anyway, I was touched that she wrote me, and we exchanged a few emails back and forth, and she said, "Honestly, I don't know why you don't go for The Fireman. He sounds wonderful."

"The Fireman IS wonderful," I wrote her. "Hey! Would YOU like to meet him?"

And that, folks, is how a woman who dated Daniel Boone got set up with The Fireman. I had corresponded with The Fireman this weekend anyway, so it's not like he didn't kn0w my heart had been shattered, so I told him the whole story about this woman and how he should totally meet her.

"I don't know whether to feel really liked or really rejected," said The Fireman, who has to analyze everything.

"Do not feel rejected," I told him. "Think of it like you are a really fabulous pair of shoes that I have, but unfortunately I am only into painful spikes right now, so I am loaning my fabulous shoes to someone else."

Even though The Fireman is really manly, fortunately you can give him analogies like that and he is cool with them.

I hope it works between them. You know how people say everyone comes into your life for a reason? And you know how everyone who says that is a real asshole? I am hoping that Fireman and this woman fall madly in love, so I can justify these four obsessive painful unrewarding months by saying DB and I met in order to fix those two up. NO PRESSURE, YOU TWO! YOU'RE ONLY GIVING MEANING TO AN OTHEWISE HORRID RELATIONSHIP!

Talk about your blog giveaway! The Fireman. The new inflatable meatloaf.

Okay, so that was good, and then I got home and got the news about Winston being missing, and I can't even think about it because if I do I will cry again and I am SICK OF CRYING and I hate myself and I love Winston so bad. Winnie was always my f-a-v-o-r-i-t-e. Don't tell anyone.

Right after Marvin called to tell me Winston was gone, I had to go on a date.


Last week, after I declared my undying love for DB, which by the way feels like eleven hundred centuries ago, I got a Match message from someone. No one interesting has contacted me in months. I have gone on a few dates and they have all been eh. So literally 10 minutes after DB and I decide to become a thing, this guy contacts me and he was pretty interesting, and I was all, Wouldn't you know it and I closed down my Match account.

On Sunday, when it was evident things were not gonna work with DB, I wrote the guy back. Several funny emails resumed, despite my dark cloud and my tears and my dramatic thoughts.

He proposed we get together. "Have you ever been to Hillsborough? We could meet there."

I paused. Hillsborough is exactly where DB and I had our first date. Of all the gin joints…

"Okay," I said. "Sounds great." Yes. Let's meet there. That is where I met the man I will NEVER EVER GET OVER because I loooooove him and he is terrrrrrrible to me and I will Miss Havisham over him for the rest of tiiiimmmme. Sounds great!

I drove there last night with the news of Winston weighing on me, a migraine threatening, this work thing hanging over my head, and oh! When I turned on my GPS (I turned it on with my smile, just as I turn the world on), and typed in, "Take me to Hillsborough," it asked, "Do you want to go to Daniel Boone Drive?"

"NO! No I do NOT want to go to any Daniel Boone Drive. THANKS!" I snapped at it.

I parked in exactly the same spot I parked when I went on my date with DB, who we all said we weren't gonna mention and yet we still do and why must we obsess, and I walked over to the restaurant.

And there was my date, leaning against a lamppost, and he was so hot I could have melted into the sidewalk.

Hot. Seriously. He was hottie hot hot. Attractive, is what he was. And I liked what he had on. Sort of preppie fashionable. And I could tell he liked me. Because I had on my high-heeled boots that are sexy if one is attracted to Nazis and who isn't.

He does that nervous talking thing as I do. "I know on my profile I said I was a good listener, but really I just think I'm so funny that everyone should be hearing what I have to say. I'm a terrible listener," he said.

"Oh my god I'm exactly the SAME WAY!" I said, not listening.

Our food came, and even though I hadn't eaten in seven hours, I had three bites and was not hungry. Oh my god, I'm twitterpated, I realized. When I'm twiterpated over a boy I do not eat.

What kind of shallow superficial tramp gets twittered over a boy when she is in LOVE with another boy?

This shallow superficial tramp.

Oh we had the best time. Seriously! We laughed, we talked, we tormented the waiter. Finally it was time to go and he walked me to my car. It had started to rain, so we stood under an awning talking. And I am sorry to tell you that old in-love-no-one-will-replace-him June KISSED ON THE FIRST DATE.

Three times.

"So I'm thinking Sunday," New Boy said. Whose name is Tom, and when I asked what he wanted his name to be on my blog, he said, "How about Tom?"

"What Sunday?"

"Our next date. I'm being bold, here. I'm going out on a limb."

So June has a movie date on Sunday. We are going to a foreign movie to be pretentious. 

And even though I am sad and cloud-covered and cannot stand thinking about Winnie in the rain and hope I don't get fired about the work thing? 

That was one damn-ass fun date. 


Faithful Readers · Friends · Giveaway · June's stupid life

Giving and mostly getting

I want you all to dry your tears and carry on like adults, but Juice has won the inflatable toast. Last night before I went to bed, I ran the random number generator to see who'd win at that time? And it was Juice. Then today, when I had the official number of comments? Juice won again.

God has spoken, y'all. Plus, what goes better than toast and Juice?

And speaking of gifts and food, people have been feeding me lately.

Snouty Not that I have taken to eating dogs. And do you know what I like about this dog? Is her short, stumpy nose part. What nose? I cannot smell you.

A few weeks ago, I was heading into PetSmart, as I do 900 million times a week, and a faithful reader spotted me. She told me she knew we'd see each other one day, as she similarly goes to that PetSmart 900 million times a week, so there are the odds right there. Anyway, if you recall–as I mentioned this when it happened–I found out she had greyhounds and totally invited myself to her house, and Thursday is when I eventually wedged myself in the door and made her feed me lunch.

AlsosnoutySnout? I gots no snout. What you mean? I a Pug.

So I met her short, fat, no-nosed greyhounds and as you can imagine was totally indifferent to them. Did you know greyhounds are really mellow dogs? And I'm sorry. That first sentence in this paragraph was sarcastic, and then I meant the part about them being mellow. Keep up. Greyhounds are good apartment dogs, believe it or not.

There is a greyhound rescue place, and Laura and I are going to it together soon. Shut up.

In other people-are-feeding-me news–

Oh, wait. My mother and my best friend always want to know what I HAD when I eat places. I am kind of indifferent to that part, preferring to concentrate on the pet part. Faithful Reader Laura had a delicious spread of fruits and vegetables (strawberries, carrots, etc.), then chicken salad, a cucumber and dill salad, another thing that was risotto-y but that wasn't what it was. What was it, Laura? I ate a ton of it. Oh, and peanut butter Whoopie Pies.

When she was washing the strawberries I told her and her kids (oh, did I forget to mention she has kids?) that I'd found a tiny worm on my strawberry the day before.

"I don't feel like eating anymore," said her six-year-old daughter.

June. Ruining the appetites of kids since 2011.

Okay, so in OTHER people-feeding-me-news, I am in a book club in real life, and there is literally a Jewish mother in my book club, who I will call W. She has a whole name, I promise. Anyway, she got very concerned about everything going on in my life and asked if, after Passover, she could come over with an entire dinner for me.

Like I was gonna say no to that.

So I got some snacks, which the dogs promptly stuck their stupid tongues in right in front of her, and W. brought me homemade chili, brown rice, a salad, and even a can of Pellegrino. Then there were homemade cookies for dessert!

W. stayed for over an hour, despite the part where Tallulah fell desperately in love with her and kept PAWING her and Edsel kept LEAPING on her and OVER her and licking her EAR and really I don't know why anyone comes over, ever. And does anyone recall that BOTH dogs have been to obedience training? Cesar needs to MOVE IN to my home. Is Cesar single now?

Anyway, we had the best time. Well. I had the best time. She was probably counting the minutes till she could reasonably leave. I watched her nice pants get furrier and furrier until she looked like Chewbaca by the time she left.

So I am remaining well-fed and I do not know how I luck out in the friends department. I must seem sort of sad and hungry, like Dondi.

Dondi When did comics ever cost twelve cents?

At any rate, I am going now. To return to my statistics textbook. Which I have spent more than 10 hours on already and have not proofread page one of yet. I know. Don't you wish your weekend was hot like mine?

Comment of the week goes to the Chief, because come on. The Mt. Rushmore of lesbians? Click on This Week's Special if you wish to see.

They should totally make a Mt. Rushmore of Lesbians in real life.


Giveaway · Health · June's stupid life

Snot fun to be me

Your old pal June is sick sick sick. Of course, you knew that.

I had Marvin get me a box of Puffs, which I want you to know is a luxury for me. Usually I just blow my nose on toilet paper, figuring kleenex is a treat for rich people. Anyway, Edsel took the box while I wasn't looking, pulled every last Puff out of the box, and tore it all into tiny shreds.

Why did Marvin insist we get a puppy, anyway?

Okay, getting up and typing has exhausted me, and I only got 13 hours of sleep last night, so goodbye. Don't forget tomorrow night is book bluc.

Book bluc. Who feels miserable? Who is dizzy and out of it? Book bluc.

Anyway, for more info on book bluc, click on Mince Words with June over there on the right. Or Thgir.

Oh, one more thing. Edsel the eater of Puffs has already grown out of his collar in one week, so does anyone need a 10"-14" red and blue doggie collar? We can do a little June-is-too-ill-to-blog-and-can't-even-spell-"club" giveaway today.

I will assign comment of the week tomorrow when I can form a thought.

Can anyone bring me more Puffs? We can form a little "Help Sick June" bluc.

Faithful Readers · Giveaway · June's stupid life

And the check June picked was…


Oui, oui, mon chere. Crepe Suzette! Poodle! French toast.

Yes, I am fluent in French. Hence the French checks. And do you like how I cleverly painted over my name and account number? I am Fort Knox. But I'm French, so I'm Forte Knoxe.

So for those of you who guessed the French check, or cheque, you are correct.

And really? Puppies? Really? I mean, I know I like Tallulah and all, and I ask for a new puppy 6,385 times a day, but do I really seem like a PUPPY CHECK person to you? I never.

I did a random number pickerizer and the winner of the contest is Gra, which means I have to send a bacon tuxedo jigsaw puzzle to fricken Ireland. But I am happy to do it, Gra. This is the price you pay when you are so worldy, so welcome, like June is. Plus also, if I suck up to you enough you will invite me to visit and then I can just hop over to Paris from your house. That's easy to do, right?

So give me your address. I will also send you some nice Irish Spring. Because I know how the Irish enjoy them the Irish Spring.

My father really nailed it best, though. He emailed me and said, "I bet you picked the Eiffel Tower or else the gardening checks" and in fact I was IRKED when I went online to show you potential checks and saw that Marjoleen Bastien had garden checks, because I totally would have picked those. So dad was right. But he's not getting any tuxedo bacon puzzle.

He would never play with it, for one thing, and also he did not leave a comment. So he was not even up for selection by the random pickerizer.

Also, I do really love Bugs Bunny, and to prove it to you, here is a nine-second Porky Pig cartoon. Which I know is not Bugs, but I love the whole genre. Believe it or not this cartoon was actually shown in theaters, even though it has a shocking word in it.

Now that I have rocked your world with that, and you are crying in your morning beer over not winning the coveted bacon tuxedo jigsaw puzzle, I guess the only thing to do is tell you about my dessert night with Faithful Reader Laurie.

Faithful Reader Laurie, one of the 204850149 Lauries who comments on this blog, lives locally. We met at a party at The Nester's a few months back and since she has big hair, we bonded immediately.

Tonight we got up with each other, as they say here, and had us some desserts.

Do you think she is going to unlike me now because I said she has big hair? But look how she has pretty ringlet-y curls, whereas I always just had large puffs of frizz.


Here we are together, and do you like how I have managed to get my whole head in there, and just barely eeked hers in the corner, like a bug? Have I mentioned she is going to unlike me?

Laurie is a professional photographer, which is why she was drawn to my blog of course, and also she is a medical person. She does not specifically say on her blog what she does in the medical profession so I am not giving it away here, but suffice it to say I may hire her to just hang around me all the time.

After our hummingbird and cheesecake (yes, she got hummingbird cake. No, it was not made from real hummingbirds. I asked), we both had to go to the grocery store. I needed something for heartburn, and she needed toilet paper and plastic wrap.

God, we're glamorous.

So that was my night. Thank heavens I put on my bacon tuxedo, just in case.

Giveaway · June's stupid life

June’s blog. Where you come for the prizes that she never sends you.

I was just so NICELY napping on the couch, when someone had the nerve to stop with their DOGS, TWO of them, and let one of them poop on my lawn. The dog walker cleaned it up, but Tallulah had 47 fits about it and woke me up. She acts like she handles the lawn care at this establishment. When really all she does is leave her Kong on the lawn to get all buggy on the inside.

Obviously I am writing this on Wednesday night and I am going to publish this on Thursday a.m. Because I plan ahead that way. Don't you think "plan ahead" is redundant?

The most interesting thing that happened today is that I got my new checks. I opened a new checking account and the guy at the bank said, "You get free checks, unless of course you want pretty checks."

He said that with disdain, as if WHO in their RIGHT MIND would order pretty checks that you had to pay for when you could get free, boring checks.

"Yeah," I said. "Get me the book. I want to select the pretty checks."

So we are gonna have an exciting game here at Bye Bye, Pie. It's called How Well Do You Know June?

I am going to show you several types of pretty checks, and you guess which one I really got. Those who guess the right one will be in a drawing to win a delightful bacon tuxedo jigsaw puzzle.


This should delight the people who are still waiting for me to send their cupcake-flavored dental floss. And what else was I gonna send? And inflatable fruitcake? Do you like how I've gotten right on sending those?

Anyway, you know you want a jigsaw puzzle of someone wearing a bacon tuxedo. Who doesn't?

So here are the choices. Which check design would June choose? Hmmmm…

Would June Gardens pick a garden look?

What about puppy snickerdoodles? You know she likes her the puppies.

Eiffel Tower/Gay Paree images? I have an Eiffel Tower tattoo. I mean, June has an Eiffel Tower tattoo.

Bugs Bunny? I have shown you Bugs Bunny You Tube clips. Oh, I give up on speaking in third person.

How about girly roses? You know I like pink.

It's tough, isn't it? Hey, it's not easy to win a bacon tuxedo jigsaw puzzle. I can't just GIVE those away for NOTHING.

I would really like to get Marvin a bacon tuxedo. His niece's bat mitzvah is coming up next year. Perhaps we could emulate the outfits on this puzzle. How quickly will our invite get lost in the mail, do you think?

Okay. I look forward to your answers. You have until midnight Pacific time, Thursday, September 16 to guess.

Faithful Readers · Giveaway · June's stupid life


We have a winner in the shopping spree contest I announced on Friday. Congratulations to Shannon of The Shannon River. Not because she won. Let's just congratulate her.

No, no. She was our big winner. I picked her by going on a random number generator site. I didn't pick her because I like her better than you.

Perhaps will let us do another contest someday and you can try again. Because you know what Winston Churchill said. If at first you don't succeed in a blog contest…

Oh, and Marvin called the electric company today. The Electric Companeeeee, The Electric Companeeeee…

I'll stop. Anyway, they were home at 6:30 in the morning. How dreadful. But hoping to stop living like Mary Ingalls soon. Who needs those night-vision goggles like Jodi Foster had in Silence of the Lambs just to brush her teeth at night?

Giveaway · June's stupid life

So, I’m giving away this diet book

A few months back, this promotional company asked if I'd read a diet book and review it, then give one away. They didn't offer me any money or anything but I said okay, sure. Because apparently I am affable like that.

Then the deadline for posting my review got moved, which is good because I was right in the middle of thinking I was dying of a brain tumor, and you certainly would have gotten an informative and fun review right there. "Go ahead and enjoy this book! I won't be around to watch you enjoy it, but…"

Anyway, I got the book, Dear God Let Me Lose Fat Amen (and I just noticed the cover doesn't have punctuation, so I didn't punctuate either), and it strikes me that it's less of a book and more of a handbook. It's paperback, and tall, and technically you could cut out each page and display it somewhere, because each page is its own little subject. (And each side is actually perforated, for your cutting pleasure.)

For example, page 17 tells you all about how calories are created. Page 37 lists little exercises you can do during the day, like running in place for six minutes, or doing push-ups against the wall for eight minutes. Page 31 reminds you that if you skip just three bites of a 1,000-calorie meal, you lose 150 calories right there.

And I guess the fact that this information on losing weight is given to the reader in increments is the point of this book. If you take this information one piece at a time, maybe it will sink in. And you really could maybe take the pages that resonated with you the most, and actually put them up somewhere, like on your mirror with a little scotch tape. Unless your family will make fun of you for that, in which case you need to get your own apartment, because if your family is making fun of you while you try to do something good for yourself, they can just live without you. Is what I say.

What I liked about this book is that it encourages losing weight very slowly, making tiny changes in your life. I mean, you're reading a person who ate a Sonic chili cheese dog today for lunch. Again. But it seems to me that making small changes is a lot more effective than trying to wake up one Monday and saying okay, that's it. Starting this week, no more dairy. Or something similarly dramatic. I mean, saying okay, today I will eat three fewer bites seems a lot more reasonable.

So, do you want this book? According to the back of it, it is a $25.99 value in the U.S. and it's worth like 4 million dollars in Canada. Why does everything cost so much more in Canada? Are people even overweight in Canada?

The company sent me one copy to read myself and one copy to give away, but I have to tell you I have paged through both because I kept misplacing them. I am the least organized person you have ever met in your life. But neither copy is dog-eared or anything, Felix Unger. Calm down.

Write in, if you want it, and I will let you know on Friday who gets it. I will also send you apartment rental info and some scotch tape.