Do you ever wish everyone would just stop talking to you? I don’t mean blog comments–I can honestly say that there hasn’t been one time I’ve gotten a blog comment and gone, UGH. A COMMENT. Goddammit. Not once. I’m always glad to get those. Continue reading “June’s Room of Her Own”
I have to be brief today, as opposed to boxers, as I need to take my car in to get the brakes looked at and COME ON, GOD. Continue reading “Coffee. Brakes.”
I have an exciting fact for you.
I worked till 10:00 last night, on freelance stuff, and my real work was busy yesterday, too, but at one point one of you wrote me. "I left you a tip."
"Oh, you did? Wow, thanks!"
Eventually, I got over there, to m'tip jar, and you'd left me enough tips that I don't have to borrow from any random well-off exes! Yay! Thanks, you guys!
Just today, I went to Steely Dan's hallowed Feeding Area® and noted he was on his last can of food. He wouldn't have STARVED, I have dry kitten food, made from real kittens, but he was gonna have to wait on the cans. But now? Cans for that assy cat!
I mentioned this on Facebook yesterday, but I noted yesterday that he is apparently jumping to the shelf atop the closet and chawing the fabric below. "So he's a moth," one of you said.
Yes. Yes, he is. WHY would you even WANT to chew fabric? He's not teething; he already did that, unless he's getting a new row like a shark, and I would not put that past him. A couple times now he's sauntered past me of late, and for a second there I'm all, "Who is that man?" He's getting big, is what I am saying to you.
You know, I love nothing more than a baby animal, yet why do I always own animals that get big in 14 seconds? Roger, Lottie, SD.
Anyway, so now I can, like, get dish soap and more allergy meds and I can LIVE! Live like a regular person who can buy staples! Yay!
Oh, and the other good news is, I know I told you Ned paid that doctor bill for me that inexplicably went to his house even though I have never been to that doctor before last month and there is really no reason they think his address is still my address. But whatever. The point is, him doing that tipped me over into meeting my ridiculous $2,000 deductible already this year, so yay!
I have a lot of yay today.
ALSO, I heard from the headache study I'm doing, and the first part is over–on to the second part. I am not taking any drugs or changing my diet, but that's all I can say about it. This is a whole new approach that I've yet to try, and I'm curious to see how it works.
And finally, I hate to tell Lily that she can't really see anything. "Lileee patrol yard tooo." Hey, maybe before spring gets here for real (Okay, it IS spring. Shut up.) I can get that screen replaced. What say you? As soon as I do that I'll find a puppy again.
Or adopt this pittie, with whom I am obsessed. "Cat curious." Oh my god, that kills me. Clearly she's in college. In her experimental years.
Okay, I'm leaving. Oh, one last thing. I got home and started working right away last night, resulting in me forgetting to feed dinner to the pets, which, I KNOW. I'm lucky to be alive. The point is, it was such a nice evening, and at one point I got up to stand on the deck and stretch, and everyone was out there together being so quintessentially themselves.
Edsel kept picking up Blu and dropping it, over and over. Steely Dan kept running at the big tree, seeing how high he could jump on the trunk, then jumping down and trying again.
Lily was on her back, legs splayed rolling in the dirt.
Iris sat on the deck with her paws crossed, surveying her domain. Sort of. As survey-y as you can be when you "can't see fukkin theeng."
So that was cute.
I'm $54 overdrawn in my account, I get paid in TEN DAYS, and I just called Ned to borrow $100.
You guys. I cannot keep living like this. If you wanna call that living. Seriously, though, here's how it happened: I got paid last Wednesday. I paid the mortgage because it was due that day. I got my contacts, because they were ready and I hadn't worn contacts in weeks. You'd think I could just blow that off and be glasses girl, but I really have trouble copyediting with glasses on, cause I have to take them off to really see, and scootch way up to the computer, and plus also it hurts to wear headphones with them on, a thing I have to do because open floor plan.
So I got the contacts. Paid the mortgage. Got groceries. GOT THE SIX-DOLLAR EYEBROW WAX.
Then I had $54 till the NEXT payday, which I could deal with, and boom. Auto insurance. Automatic withdrawl. It overdrew me, and the FUCKING BANK charged me $36 for it.
God I hate banks. Why they gotta be such dicks?
The point is, I'm 51. This is insane. I spent until 9:30 last night working, trying to make extra money, but I can't keep working 11-hour days forever. I mean, I guess I could, but I assure you a tired copyeditor is a shitty copyeditor.
And remember when that realtor came? My house is creeping up there in value, but it's still not worth what I paid, and I wouldn't make any money selling it. So that's out.
Anyway. At least I'm rich in pet food. One of you sent me King Kamehameha amounts of it, and this morning I saw Edsel's food tin was low, and I panicked for a minute, but I looked in the closet and there was a huge bag of his Just Sex. I give him this Rachel Ray food called Just Six, but my hilarious joke with myself is to call it Just Sex. I know. All this talent, and I'm destitute.
I don't even know what else to do, you know? I've cut out all fun. I have no TV, I buy groceries and eat at home. I'm devoid of all injectables, which if you ask me is the biggest tragedy. I know a lot of other people feel the same way. Thank heavens we have a new administration to take us in an exciting direction.
So say what you will about Ned, he's the only local friend I have who's sick with cash, and he offers to help constantly and I say no constantly, at least I did back when we used to speak. I didn't even know if he'd answer my call, but he did and didn't hesitate to loan me the money, and he also told me that my allergy bill came to our old house (why? I never went to that doctor before. Why did they think that was my house? why??), and it was $250 and he just paid it.
So that's going on. I always get smug judge-y people when I talk about m'cash flow, but my determination is to tell as much of the truth as I can on here without ruining anyone else's life.
Oh, also, Peg's daughter messaged me on Facebook. I'd told Peg my new number but she must have forgotten, and in desperation the daughter found me there. Apparently my full name is on Peg's power of attorney stuff, which I'm glad of.
The point is, in case you're not on Pie on the Face, Peg has been in hospital–as they say in England–and then at this rehab place (she's not DRUNK. Physical rehab) recovering from her ailments, and then yesterday she had another surgery. Peg's surgery yesterday went well, and soon she goes BACK to the rehab place.
Her daughter, who lives in Virginia, I think, has been schlepping here weekly and staying at Peg's, and I told her I'm right next door and can do whatever when she's not here. I also invited her over for coffee and kvetching if she needs to, and she said yes to that, so that'll be nice.
I hope I'll have coffee. "Hi, come on in. I have negative 14 dollars, so do you mind water? If they haven't shut off my water?"
So that's that. Also, we've had big, big changes at work, so that's been kind of stressy. Is the moon in Africa or Saturn or something? Are you going through chaos and upheaval as well? Cause this is weird. Everything's all fruit-basket upset.
I used to have this boss, who didn't like me, and that was a huge phrase with her: fruit-basket upset. It killed me. I'd have said, "fucked up," and right there's the difference between the two of us, and no wonder she didn't like me.
At least I have my youth.
…I just got up to get more fascinating decaf (I'm almost totally decaffeinated now! This is the first time since I'm 16!), and I saw two riveting things. First of all, Steely Dan was chewing my flowers, that pretty pink plant Chris and Lilly got me a few weeks ago? (Big Book of June Events) I brought it inside cause it's been so cold, and there was SD, all chawing it, and I did the whole HSSSST! sound I do to scare the cats.
And he looked at me with nary a flinch. Kept chewing. HSSSST! has ALWAYS worked, even on Mr. Horkheimer, but SD? Nary.
So I took the plant back outside, cause it's supposed to be 79 today anyway, and as I was walking back in here, I saw Lily in the back yard, Lily my cat, which is good because if Lilly the person had driven 25 minutes to just stand in my back yard I might get more than a tad creeped out.
The point is, she was all hunched in a hunting position, Lily my cat was, twitching her ample hips this way and that. So I watched to see what would happen next. If I'd been online I'd have clicked here. You won't BELIEVE WHAT–anyway.
She pounced. On nothing. Then she tore away sideways, her ample everything swaying in the breeze.
So that's what Lily does in the yard. Hunts nothing. Somehow this is not shocking information for me.
I'd better go, so I can get to work and maybe scrounge some free food or something. Did I mention I cannot keep living like this? Maybe some 20-year-old college boy needs a room to rent. That sounds really sexy till his first night of binge drinking.
Yesterday's family stories were hilarious. I knew I'd like them. All day I wanted to tell you my friend Dave's family story, one of 3949493944 of them that he has, but I was doing that pesky work thing, and then right after work I had my hair, so hello, home at 8:30.
I mean, I always have my hair. You know what I mean.
Also, Dear Mom. I drove home and let him out to pee, then I screamed to the hair appointment 10 minutes late as a result. So you can stop feeling sorry for Edsel.
Oh, but the story, which I've probably told you before.
My friend Dave has, like, 97 sisters, all of whom are married except for one. When Dave, who is gay gay gay, goes home for Christmas, he and the unmarried sister have to ride everywhere with mom and dad, like they're still kids cause they never married.
One Christmas they were headed somewhere, and we're talking Michigan in December. It's fucking freezing. They stopped to get gas, and Dave's dad was at the pump when his mom noticed dad had a nosebleed. "Your father is bleeding," she kvetched. It was literally too cold to roll down the windows, so she was desperately trying to signal him, to no avail.
As soon as he got back to the car, she announced, "You've got blood on your face."
"You big disgrace!" Dave's sister yelled out.
"WAVIN' YOUR BANNER ALL OVER THE PLACE, SINGIN' WE WILL WE WILL ROCK YOU!" Dave and his sister began singing, delighted.
Their parents ignored them. Most stories like this involve the beleagured, Catholic, we-had-19-kids parents ignoring the shenanigans in the back seat.
That video looks like it was filmed in December in Michigan.
As I was looking for that picture of Edsel all happy on the bed, I came across these images, below. I'd forgotten that the other night, I had a dream that I met Heidi Klum and Seal, except they were literally Heidi from the book, and a seal. I was all, I thought they'd be different.
What the hell is wrong with me? Like, really, what the hell is wrong with me. Who even thinks about Heidi Klum and/or Seal anymore?
Oh, and I also saw this photo, from last night.
I was preparing poses for my book jacket, if I ever write a book. I'm like Annie the maid in It's a Wonderful Life. "I was saving for my divorce if ever I get a husband." Also, here is proof I got my roots done yesterday. The straightness. For one night every six weeks, I'm straight. I like just men. I'm strictly dickly. Then I wash my hair and go back to diggin' the ladies.
I don't have Latisse anymore, part of m'paying off the credit cards, and look at my sad little lashes. It makes me feel incomplete. Sometimes I reach up and touch my little nubs of lashes and grow sad. I realize I need a life. So bad, I do.
Oh, but speaking of getting a divorce if ever I get a husband, the other night for the first time, I signed onto the bank that gives me my car loan. Last month I called them and made them help me set up an account online, so I could pay my bill like it's 2017 rather than mail a check. I was having the hardest time creating an account last month, so I called them in a huff.
I signed on, and it said, Hey, girl. Here's how much you have in checking, and in savings.
I don't have checking or savings at this bank. I have a car loan. Or as some people say, a car note, which always kind of cracks me up. Dear Driver: You have to pay for me now. Love, Car.
"Do I have an old account I forgot about? Cause, ye$!" I thought, literally saying. y-e-dollar sign in my head. I clicked into checking, saw that a literal check had been written lately, so when I clicked on the screen shot?
There was Marvin's handwriting.
Somehow, the goddamn bank had combined my car note with his checking and savings.
Also, Dear Marvin: Since when do you have savings?
"Would you like to pay your bill using one of your BB&T accounts?" the screen asked me.
Why, yes. Yes, I would. Just take this payment out of Marvin's SAVINGS, why don't you? I never sued for alimony.
Of course I did not do that. I paid for my damn car NOTE out of my own money, money that could have gone to something reasonable like Latisse. Then I texted Marvin to alert him to this, and to point out that I am a magnificent person.
Oh, crap, I'd better go. Damn work, then after work I have my hair.
See what I did, there?
I haven't wanted to ruin what I'm certain has been a stellar weekend for you, but I've been under the weather. I know. See? I knew your mood would plummet.
Turning to your Big Binder of June Events (at this point it pretty much has to be a binder), you'll recall that my throat hurt earlier in the week, and then I rallied, and then boom. I had a sinus infection. I won't disgust you with the details, but I am not bringing sexy back. I never even purchased sexy in the first place, this weekend.
But my chills and aches are not why I brought you all here today, although you'll surely catch those now that you're Inside June. I brought you here today to help me with my windfall. M'windfall, as some might say. And those some are assholes.
I hunched out to the mailbox yesterday afternoon, because when I fell ill it's important that I walk all hunched over, so the cats feel bad for me and so on. I almost didn't open the letter from my mortgage company, because all I do is save the unopened bill to remind me to pay it, then pay it over the phone each month. But for some reason I did open it.
A check fell out.
I figured it was one of those phony checks, where if you get yourself more into debt you can cash it. But in fact, just like in Monopoly, they overestimated my escrow, whatever that means, and I had a big $524 coming to me.
If you're as broke as I am, this is big news. So now the check is just sitting there, waiting to be spent, and I can't decide what to do with it? Do I save it? (borrrrrring) Do I throw it at the credit card debt, which by the way will be a spit in the ocean but still?
Do I spend it on things that need doing around the home? For example, my motion light at the side of the house burnt out, and my handyman Alf will have to get up on big-ass ladder or a cherry picker or something to replace it. Also he found a screen in part of the roof that fell out, which could be the gateway to hell for Steely Beelzebub and his great escapes.
Alternatively, I need my chair recovered, which is supposed to cost $700, but I could throw $524 at the problem and come up with the rest.
So, what say you? Fortunately, here is a survey for you to fill out, and if you have an alternative suggestion, you could leave that in my comments.
Click here for the link to the survey.
Thanks! Come back tomorrow for my snotty comments on the Oscars, both literally and figuratively.
I thought today I'd categorize the many areas of my life and update you on how they're going. I remember some friend of Ned's said there are five fingers to life, and I'm not going to remember them all. Love, health, family, money, career. Oh, maybe those are it.
Anyway, he said you should try to have all fingers up, and if more than two are down, you're in trouble. Or something like that. That same guy, whose five fingers are forming my life, used to go to bars and stand outside at closing time and pick up drunk women as they emerged, which I always thought was sort of a brilliant plan.
Here are my categories.
Pfft. I have been on two dating sites and there has been no luck. I meet people, they seem okay, then no. Not so okay. And it's not me being choosy, really. Like, one guy I talked to, boop boop boopety boop with the talk, for two days, and on day three he got all pouty. "I can tell you aren't into me."
We've never met. We've been texting for 72 hours. I explained that I was in fact quite interested, but apparently because I wasn't available to text ALL THE TIME, it meant I wasn't interested.
So see? People like that. You can't seem crazy on day three. Wait till I'm hooked, then bring it on out.
I did get lovely Valentine's Day flowers from an admirer, because All This, which I just typed All Thus, but while that was a lovely gesture, that's not going anywhere, either. Also, I'm sure my coworker Ed is delighted I sneaked photos of him on Valentine's Day. He's an excellent coworker. Laughs at all my shit. You know that's the key to me liking you. Don't be a good person or serve others. Just laugh at my shit.
For more than two weeks now I've been taking an allergy pill, two pills in the morning for GERD (Google fucking it), am weaning self off of caffeine and am taking another GERD pill at night. And guess what.
My throat feels better! I don't choke on water any more! So, yay.
I can't believe how well I'm doing on limited caffeine. Although I overdid it with the lack of caffeine yesterday and had to drink a cup at work. I started with 75 caffeine/25 decaf and now I'm down to about 80 decaf/20 caffeine.
Right? Who knew I could do this?
But of course now my knees hurt when I climb stairs. I mean, they KILL. So. Yay. New problem.
Well, my family consists of fur. So. This morning Edsel and I had the usual tussle re going outside.
"Come on, Edsel." [cowers on bed]
"Let's go, Edsel! Outside!" I had the fake cheer that he can see right through, because when am I cheerful?
Finally I had to take him by the collar and go out there with him, where he peed for an hour and a half. We went back inside and minutes later he was whining by the door and prancing like a bronco. I opened the door and he tore to the back, where the stupid gaybor had Jackie ON A LEASH. Why does that poor dog have to be on a leash when she has a fenced-in yard? Maybe it's a greyhound thing, I don't know.
The gaybor was really well dressed. Hey, stop with the comments. I know some downright frumpy gay men.
Oh, fuck everything. So far, with the freelance and the writing on the side and the doing surveys and the having that Nielsen-for-the-Internet box on my modem or whatever it's called, I have paid the lawn guy and therapist. I owed them both and it's a relief to be done with owing all that.
Now I just have to pay $3939493949393 in credit cards and I'll be all set.
I'm considering selling my house and moving into a rental house, because if, say, this place needs to be rewired or something I am so screwed. Ned, whose new name here is Milburn Pennybags from Monopoly, has offered to help me financially, but who here thinks that's a bad idea? Wow, that's a lot of hands.
I keep applying for better-paying things at my regular job and nothing has come to fruition.
Here are my coworkers. No, I have no idea what they're up to, either.
So that sums it up, and yeah. I've got some fingers down. You know what sounds delicious right now is some Frankenberry. Doesn't it? I guess I'll go have goddamned toast.
I watched more of that "OJ Simpson was so innocent totally for sure" show last night, and they had the Bronco chase. When that happened in real life, I was at the Mandarin Gate in Seattle, which after just Google fucking it I see still exists, and there it was. On the TV at the bar. OJ on the 405.
The Mandarin Gate was also where Paula and I were when there was an earthquake in Seattle. Perhaps we drank too much in our youth. At the Mandarin Gate. Hey, it was close to our house.
Anyway, where were you when they had the Bronco chase?
I was at the biofeedback place for migraine when the verdict came in. I asked the people who worked there to alert me, and when it was time, I ran to their employee lounge with sticky things and cords all over my head, and got the verdict. We all gasped.
I'd better go dry my hair, because tuberculosis.
Anyway. Why would you even WANT to attack the paper towel roll? At least it wasn't one of my highfalutin Alyssa Milano paper towels, from the Alyssa Milano Collection. I want you to know nothing kills me more than Alyssa Milano having a "collection" of anything, and I wish to collect anything she collects.
But I can't. Cause broke.
This is why I gathered you all here today. My last-minute trip to Michigan for my grandmother's birthday (+ pet-sitting); my next trip for my mother's [insert major number here] birthday (+ pet-sitting); my beach trip (+ pet-sitting), which I'd planned for ages; my sudden purchase of a car; plus the part where I no longer write for Purple Clover mean I am not as wealthy as I'd been. Wealthy. Pfft.
I maxed out my credit cards when Tallulah got sick. They'd been at zero, all three of them at zero, as of the first of this year, and it was January 1 that I came home and saw for the first time that Lu had peed on the floor. "Well, I wonder what THAT'S all about?" I remember thinking. I knew Edsel hadn't peed, cause he'd have turned into a guilty letter C. He did today when I walked in on the claw-ridden paper towel extravaganza.
So. Yeah. Broke. Sucks.
I wanted to ask you about your money sitch, not how much you make or anything like that, but how do you feel about it? Do you feel secure? This week when I got home from my trip, I called around all afternoon and canceled all my extras, which I had done months earlier with Kaye, but there were some things that I'd set up when I moved here last November that I was stuck with till the year was up, and now it's November again, so. So no cable at all, slower internet than I already had (I'd knocked it down a peg when Kaye did my budget), I'm polish-less, with no future manicures or pedicures in sight, and I'm thinking of looking in the want ads to see what Edsel can do. Maybe he could do dog modeling. You think?
Oh, and also, my blog dues are up. Every year, I have to pay Typepad $180, and I have to do so around November 15. I can ill afford this right now, but will try, but I know some of you hit the tip jar from time to time, and if you can afford it, please consider throwing money in there. You know I don't enjoy asking, but right now, $180 is a ton for me. If you can't afford it, for heaven's sake, do not donate.
But let's discuss. Do you feel like, yeah, I'm okay with money, or are you still shaky after the whole 2008 debacle? I was already kind of hurting in 2008, as we'd just moved here from Los Angeles and I was just starting a new job and we bought a house. But things really got ugly once Marvin left. I had no job, a mortgage and a COBRA. I can't help it–no matter what I have to have my snake.
When I moved in with Ned, I was golden. Oh my god, I remember buying clothes at the real store, not Target, because we each paid $600 a month in rent, and my car was paid off, and Ned made more than me by a lot, so he paid for dinners out and so on. Those were m'salad days, and that was how I got all my cards paid off.
Then we broke up. And I moved back here. And Tallulah got sick.
So what about you? What's your story with cash money? Are you as vulnerable to what's happening outside your world as I am, or do you have a solid plan in place even if the dog gets sick or the move is inevitable or what have you? And if so, why are you such a goddamn grownup?
I'll talk at you tomorrow. Oh! And I voted yesterday, and there wasn't even a bad line, and why they had cocaine at the voting place was beyond me.
When I woke up yesterday, I did not know I'd be buying a car. But there it is.
Now my life is officially a country song: the man I loved done left, m'dog died, and my VW Bug up and quit on me. I just need a train off in the distance and a jail sentence.
It didn't officially quit, but the "Check Engine" light came on, which is always slightly horrifying.
"Maybe the light itself is just broken," I told myself, because I'm good at denial. "Maybe a wire got crossed or something."
Yeah. That's the ticket. You go, June.
I had a bunch of writing to do for work, so I just took my laptop and went to the car place. I was able to finish everything, in fact, while I was there. A whole car place was quieter than the open floor plan.
Finally, they called me over. "Ma'am? It isn't good."
Oh! Just $2,753.81? Pus tax? Is that all? I have that on me.
I did what any adult would do. I texted Marvin, because he was in charge of Car Things, and he was in charge of the purchase of this car eight years ago. "Get a Mini Cooper," he said. Marvin was never one to avoid buying a car. He knows I love Mini Coopers.
I called my stepfather. Told him the deets. He asked me to never, ever say "deets." Then he said, "Sounds like maybe you should just trade it in and get another car."
When we hung up and I was talking with the car place, my mother called. "FIX THAT CAR!" she said. My mother always goes for the thrifty option. Although in this case it was hardly thrifty. I mean, my fear was if I got all these repairs, and the car is almost nine years old, won't it need expensive repairs in another year? That was my fear.
Anyway, after a whole day of obsessing about it, and asking the boys I work with because they're boys, and also asking Ned, who of course suggested I think on it for a month and a half, I did this…
I traded in my poor yellow Bug and got a yellow Mini Cooper. It's actually one of the larger Mini Coopers, so it's, like, a not-so-Mini Cooper. It's like this one woman I worked with, who dressed like Li'l Kim, only she had some curves, so the guys in the copy room called her Medium Kim. I bought Medium Kim.
I was certainly enjoying not having a car payment every month. I went one year not having one.
Turns out, to have avoided this problem, every time my dealership sent me those phony, "It's time for your 30,000 mile checkup" or whatever? I should have actually gone to those. Who knew? See, this is why I need adult supervision.
So I'm a little sick about having to have, you know, BOUGHT A CAR, but oh god, it's cute.
That's the key! You slide that disk in and push a button. It's like the future!
Anyway, I had to clear out my regularly scheduled car, and it made me so sad. Why do we get so sad about our cars? I was in the back seat, which I hardly ever was and then I felt sad about never being in the back seat all those years, and I was pushing the seats forward to look for odds and ends that had dropped (found one Mary Kay mascara sample and this Weight Watchers key fob that looked like a sex toy) and I saw all sorts of Tallulah fur under the seats. Oh, Talu.
I also found in the back pocket of the driver's side the large book of maps Ned wasted his money buying me. Also the tire inflate-y stuff and some spare motor oil. Do you think maybe all that time Ned thought I was a lesbian? Oh, lemme get m'map, and while I change the oil, I can find out how to best drive us to the Isle of Lesbos.
I found Tallulah in that car. Oh, wait. No I didn't. I found her in the blue Bug. Okay, but I drove Tallulah around in that car. I made out with Ned in that car. We'd meet at our old movie theater, and I'd drive him home afterward, when he lived downtown. We'd kiss in his parking lot. Which probably delighted that guard who had to work there all night.
By the time I actually made the decision and signed all the papers and so on, it was dark, so before my Aunt Mary gets here today Ima read the manual and find out where all the things are on it. Like, how do I switch over to Sirius radio, which came free? The important stuff.
Oh. Have I not mentioned my Aunt Mary is coming? She is, along with my Uncle Stuart. They'll be here through Tuesday. I took today and tomorrow off, which turned out to be stupid because their flight doesn't get in till 3:30, and really I shoulda taken off tomorrow and Friday. But there you go.
Oh, and thanks for telling me your ages and so on yesterday! I never looked to see how many comments there were total, but "a lot" seemed to fit the bill. One person was all, "I can't wait to see the results once you compile everything!"
COMPILE everything? What am I, made of time? Good gravy. Here's what we know: two of you are men. The rest of you are chicks. Amen.
I'll talk to you later. Maybe I can have Aunt Mary do an interview for my blog. I remember back when she came to visit me in Seattle, a bunch of gay guys I was friends with threw her a little party, and included an Aunt Mary handshake. Then we took her to the gay bar and then bowling, and she had a great time.
This time she gets to look at my car and meet 8,000 pets. Ain't we lucky we got 'em. Good times. Yeahhhh.