Bye Bye, Pie!

Picture book. Pictures of your dogs-a, and your antipasta, a long time ago. Or, yesterday.

I asked all y'all all all to send me pictures of what you were up to yesterday, and here they are.

Siren sent me the first photo of her happy-go-lucky self, right at midnight Sunday morning. She did not tell me her locale, but she said "Eastern time," which leads me to believe she is somewhere in the East.

And by the way, when I said give me your locale, I meant where geographically. You have no idea how many of you said, "Locale: in my kitchen." Sighhhhh.

I like Siren's hair. I wish I could achieve that disheveled-on-purpose look, but I never can. Too coarse. My hair, I mean.

I took this one at 12:15 a.m., Greensboro, NC, when I was trying to get into bed and fricken Noah's Arc was in my way. Look how Tallulah looks so put out.

Mrs. Blue took this at 7:05 a.m. She said she is happily homeless at the moment. Now we gotta look at her blog to see why. In case my cousin Katie reads this, when someone's name is in blue, it means I linked to their blog.

Joanie's cat Spotte, who is one of those half-a-face kitties I love so much, was annoyed that it was 7 a.m. in California and he had to pose rather than get fed. Both halves were bugged.

Mommy Dearest showed us the sunrise in Florida. Beeyotiful.

Regular Joann's family at 8:30 in the morning.

And in a direct juxtaposition from the Florida morning, hello Barb's back yard in Michigan.

Faithful Reader youknowwhoIam was meditating at 8:08 a.m. in Denver, with her sizable cat.

Ann is ignoring her laundry at 9:15 a.m. in Tuscon.

My friend in real life, Laurie, who lives here in Greensboro and is fancy with her photo skillz. Taken at 9:30 a.m.

Here is Diane's healthy 9:34 a.m. breakfast. Do you think she had a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit after she took this picture?

Hello, Mary C's cute doggies in New York state at 9:42 a.m.

D.Spicable sent me this one from Okinawa, Japan, during roller derby practice at 10 a.m.

Faithful Reader and one of my favorite people TwelveDaysOld snuggled with her cat at 10 a.m. in Oregon.

 
Lauren took this photo of her daughter at Newark airport, at 10 a.m. Do you think she's gonna throw that peel to see who trips on it? Do you know I actually know someone who tripped on a banana peel?

Tee in Georgia was in church at 10:15. Holy cats, that's a big congregation.

Hello, upside-down muffin. I love you. Anne took this at 10:30 a.m. in Maryland.

Here is Hulk, who I think cheated and took his photo on Saturday, ice fishing. Eeek. All i can say is thank heavens for beer.

Linda took a photo of her cyclamen, then went on my blog yesterday and reported that she did so, which lead Siren to spend the rest of the day wondering what a "cyclamen" was. She thought maybe cyclamen were men who don't commit.

And by the way, if you sent me your picture and then two hours later sent me another email saying, "I forgot to tell you my blog link/time of day/location" I just had too many photos and emails so slog through to go back and find your photo and add the info. I am sorry. I am a cyclawoman.

Kelly watched Lidsville on the West Coast at 10:30 a.m. Lidsville. Hold on to your hat.

Here's Melanie, in her room at 10:40. I totally want a beauty chair now.

At 10:42 a.m., Dawn in Austin, Texas was making cajun bread pudding. Me, too.

Faithful Reader Duffylou was being all artistic at 11 a.m.

 

Here's Letha's firepot, taken at 11:15 a.m. in Georgia. I do not know what a firepot is. I mean, I'm looking at it and I still don't know.

 

Here is a fancy shot of Tampa, Florida, taken by Stephanie at 11:33 a.m.

Jennifer didn't feel well and was trying to convince herself to eat this blueberry toast at noon in Florida. I must be big in Florida. Do any of you know Barry Gibb? Tell him I said hey.

The Zadge's dog Harry dropped his duck in water. I guess he didn't want it to feel like a duck out of water. BAH! Anyway, Zadge, Harry and the duck live in Denver.

LisaPie in Texas enjoys reading the obits on Sunday while she eats tacos. Kills me. So to speak.

At 12:27 p.m. in Texas, Shelley had this healthy snack. If I ate this much fruit my body would turn inside-out from confusion.

The Other Erin has a freakishly large baby in the DC suburbs. Taken at 12:30 p.m.

Linda in Colorado took her kids and their friend out for dim sum at 12:40 p.m. Live long and prosper.

Chelle put her stuffed animal and her kid down for a nap at 1 p.m. in Colorado.

Amish Annie in Iowa took this picture of her 130-year-old barn at 11:30 in the morning, and I realize we've gone back in time, but I just spent 30 minutes trying to get this picture on here. I have no idea why it caused any trouble. My mother just called to say hi and I was all, eff off. Have I mentioned I never should have started this task?

Anyway, this is the kind of barn Marvin and I would go into and never leave again for 12 hours. LOOK at all the stuff.

Lucy went for a drive to Gramma's at 12:32 p.m. in Phoenix. She belongs to Amy.

In Iowa, Jessica's kids had a 12:45 p.m. dance dance revolution party. As you do. Because it was hammer time. BAH!

Mrs. Thor was procrastinating in New York state at 1:10 p.m. I like those coasters.

Christine's daughter enjoyed the unseasonably warm Georgia afternoon.

Here's PJ's doggie at 1:30 p.m. in Charlotte, NC.

At the same time, Jessica shopped for books in Nashville. 

Texas Kari's family was picking out tile at 1:40 p.m. She said for people to tell her which one they like best. I like the bottom-left one.

Here's Amy at 1:47 p.m. in Tennessee. She is really small.

My friend Dottie, who found that kitten I showed you who STILL NEEDS A HOME, also found a butterfly, in January in Michigan at 2:10 p.m. This would only happen to Dottie.

Here are Faithful Readers Target Steve and his wife, Beth. They are hilarious, and apparently, Target Steve really works at Target.

If people sent me more than one picture, I only used one, but Faithful Reader and ridiculous commentor Cosmo's dad sent me snow on his deck, which sounds dirty, and I liked that picture, and then of course I could not resist a photo of his dog, Lucy. They are in Maryland.

Faith sent me several laundry photos from Connecticut. Felt bad for her.

Clearly, you can get away with sending me more than one picture if your dogs are involved. Faithful Reader Jill Munroe sent her tired-ass dogs resting on a Texas afternoon. Don't you think the bottom dog, so to speak, looks a little Edsel-y?

Nithya, at 2 p.m. in London. Who knew London would be so green right now?

  Meanwhile, at 2:07 p.m. in Boulder, Colorado, Jazzy gives the sad-dog look in hopes of acquiring snacks from Jala.

Susan took a photo while careening down an Atlanta highway at 3 p.m. June's blog. Where you risk your life for the possibility of an inflatable meatloaf.

Furry Godmother's cute cute earsy doggies at 3 p.m. in Memphis.

My friend-in-real-life Renee took this picture at 3:23 p.m. in her neighborhood in Maui. Yes. Maui. I hate her, too.

Anita was still in her jams at 3:30 p.m. My kind of gal.

My friend Lynn was doing her homework from her "angry chair," as she called it, while also perusing my blog at 3:35 in Colorado.

Summer's family ignoring the still-up Christmas decorations and instead enjoying the nice North Carolina day, at 3:48 p.m.

Mrs. Oh is doing...something in Florida at 4 p.m.

Fay's dog Spark Plug, who is not living up to his name at 4 p.m. in Atlanta.

In the meantime, in sunny Seattle (BAH!), my friend-in-real-life Steve took this picture of his kid vacuuming things. Am so calling Child Protective Services.

Annie in Florida, where I continue to be big, took this photo at 4:15, because she said children's toys are all she ever looks at. I do not know if this is a result of some sort of disorder or what.

I wish I could begin to tell you how many photos Joann sent me of her own self. I was in the parking lot at Belk, after buying Clinique Clarifying stuff, and I said I'll just check my iPhone for messages. Nine hundred thousand of them were from Joann. She slays me.

Amy dined at the Mongolian Grill at 5 p.m. in Maryland.

Suzanne was biking in Hawaii at 5:04 p.m. Me, too.

Apron Strings showed me her Henry-looking kitty taking what is probably a rare and unusual cat nap at 5:14 p.m. in Pennsylvania.

Iowamom ran more than seven miles at a 9:09 pace. If you do not know from running paces, that would fall under the category of damn fast.

Mary's husband grilled chicken in the balmy 27-degree weather at 5:40 p.m.

Carrie had some crap meat in Farmington, Michigan.

Molly took a big old pile of clothes to Goodwill in Virginia.

Alizabeth enjoyed her bunny at 5:50 in Portland, Oregon. HELLO BUNNY HEAD!!!

Apron Strings sent me another picture, taken at 6:19 p.m. It is like the Shroud of Happy Face or something.

Heather's daughter is a lot happier about taking a bath than Tallulah ever is. 6:10 p.m., Fargo, ND.

Diane sent us her cute daughter being all pastel and baby-y.

At 7:41 p.m., Juice's dog wore a sweater and looked vaguely resentful.

Grace made a pot pie for her friend. I had no idea you could MAKE pot pie. Did I ever tell you guys the story of my father and the pot pie? If not, remind me when I am done with this uploading photos HELL, over here.

At 7:45 p.m., Sadie made lentil soup in Georgia. Apparently you people cook at night. Hunh.

Shana was screwed at Scrabble in Vancouver, Washington.

Kim's husband was just diagnosed with diabetes, and she took a picture of all the supplies at 9:15 last night, in Ohio.

Pendy showed us her enviable stack of reading material at 9:40 in Georgia.

Jessica's dog looks all scruffy at 9:47 p.m. in Dallas.

At 10 p.m. in Kentucky, Kimber drinks whiskey and reads my blog. And eats chocolate. Excellent.

In Seattle, at 12:25 a.m., Leah learned not to wash her bras all together. We support you, Leah. Get it? Do you? Am I tired now? Have I been downloading pictures since Moses wore short pants?

I got some pictures today, which I DISTINCTLY said not to do, and if you felt like someone was cursing you out just now, THEY WERE.

Linda saw this while hiking in Texas.

Shelley went to Red Rocks in Colorado, and I have been there. I drank beer there. Yay.

And Fawn was being eaten by a shark in Arkansas.

I have been sitting here for FOUR HOURS, so if I screwed up your link or name or something, I am sorry. Anyway, thanks, everyone, for showing us your Sunday!

Picture day

Don't forget, today is the day to send me your picture of something from today. I don't care what it is. Send me a picture of the Schwepps in your grocery aisle.

I have gotten several pictures already, and here is a reminder: do not forget to send me your name, YOUR BLOG LINK (don't just tell me your name, because I will not remember which blog is whose) (sorry) (it's not that I'm self-involved, I just talk to a lot of you) (well, and also I'm self-involved) and the TIME YOU TOOK THE PICTURE. And WHERE YOU AT.

Love,

June

Cranky June

Oh, please. Like I have time to blog. Do you understand just HOW MANY Sopranos episodes there are?

Also too, Marvin and I are cleaning up the back yard, which looks like depressed drug addicts own it. Depressed drug addicts who enjoy disemboweling plush toys. Then I have a movie with my friend Hammy this p.m. (we're seeing some British film at the fancy foreign-film place) and THEN I have a 1920s theme party to go to. Well, and so does Marvin, if he can get his zoot suit in order.

I have no idea if zoot suits are from the '20s.

In the meantime, don't forget to take a photograph tomorrow and email it to me with your name, blog link, where you live and what time of day itwas. And no, you can't send me one on Monday instead. And the first person who sends me one Monday and uses the phrase "late for the party" has to EAT an inflatable meatload.

Meatload. Oh that is disgusting, whatever it is. Meatload. Look, my wrists are already tired from using the giant hedge clippers in the back yard today. Do you have any idea how many fricken weed trees are back there?

Anyway, Siren is comment of the week, because she is so uplifting and chipper. She is kind of like Snow White. Or Francis. I heart you, Siren.

Rockwellin out with my smock out

Wouldn't it have been awful if I'd have driven all the way for that Rockwell exhibit and instead of Normal Rockwell it was that idiot Rockwell, who sang Somebody's Watchin' Me?

 

I realize that is the worst video ever. The real video made you sit through TWO COMMERCIALS first and I refused to put it up here.

Anyway. Luckily everyone continued to not watch THAT Rockwell and we all looked at Norman Rockwell instead. There were tons of his paintings, including one of my favorites:

I remember staring at this when I was a kid, wishing I would have a fun day like this. Mostly I read books in the basement. It would have been a small painting, had he captured me.

After the exhibit, Carpool Queen had to go...carpool, and I had about an hour before I got my roots done.

Fortunately I found something to do.

But oooo! Speaking of capturing a day in someone's life? Which that painting did and, you know, this blog does in agonizingly detailed fashion? Last night Marvin was watching a live stream of a (sit down) documentary that was coming from Sundance. And I watched a little of it with him and it was fascinating. These filmmakers asked people around the word, on July 24 of last year, to film a bit of something from their lives. Then they made a whole film about it.

I thought we could do something similar here! How about this coming Sunday you take a picture of something from your life or something you observed. Email it to me at byebyepieblog@gmail.com. Tell me your name, blog link, where you are, and what time of day it was. I will put up the pictures in chronological order sometime next week.

Doesn't that sound fun?  I mean, more fun than all of you changing your IDs and email addresses to make the colored square next to your comments a different color? In case anyone wondered why I had 994374930 comments yesterday, that is what these bozos were doing yesterday while I was out.

Okay, I have to go watch 86 hours of the Sopranos now. Oh, but in a special aside to the think tank of readers who similarly watched The Real Housewives Reunion last night? What was with Kyle's dress with the wings? Did she drink Red Bull? Also, Lisa is too pretty to only have sex twice a year.

I'm glad we could have this deep talk.

It's me, you old poop!

We just had drama over here at house o' June. I fed Francis his morning bunny and Tallulah tried the whole get-on-the-angry-chair-to-check-it-out move that Edsel's been doing.

You have never seen so much fur fly in your life. Francis smack smack smacked poor Talu, leaving her with a bloody snout. Tallulah showed her teeth and barked, but please. Fran so won this round.

 
I cleaned her up and she is sticking close to my chair now. My big tough Pit Bull.

You know what Francis has not done? Is mellow in his old age. Also? The bunny food is going to be a constant source of struggle in this house.

We really get a nice view up Talu's nostrils in that shot, don't we? Hello-hello-hello-hello! Echo-echo-echo! Don't you hate people who shout "echo" into a place where there's an echo?

Oooo! The mailman's truck is stopping at my house! Hang on. In eight seconds, old bloody snout will see it and that'll be the end of my eardrums.

Crap. He's just SITTING there, probably reading my extra-special mail. Maybe it's my Sopranos boxed set! Did I tell you I splurged and bought it on sale? Did I tell you I'm unemployed? If it's my Sopranos boxed set you will never hear from --

Oooo! Doorbell!

 
Aaaaaccckk! It's here! It's here! And I have to go to stupid Raleigh today to see Norman (Rockwell, not Thayer) with my pal Carpool Queen, and then after I have to get my hair done.

Crap. Do you think I can call in Sopranoed to both things? "I'm sorry, I can't live my actual life because I want to stay home and watch a TV show."

Okay, that's pathetic. And then TONIGHT of course we have the reunion of The Real Housewives, which I cannot miss. Why does God present me with these struggles?

So I was really just writing to say I had to go cause I have to get to Raleigh, but I'm glad you could be here for this special occasion. EIGHTY-SIX EPISODES of the Sopranos. Dying. Dying then getting cut to pieces in a bathtub and put in a bowling bag. Which is only funny if you watched the Sopranos.

CRAP!

Pieces of Wisdom--June detoxes. Sort of.

Crap.

Yesterday I asked all y'all to give me some advice on how to switch to decaf, even though caffeine is the best best best thing in the whole wide world and why would anyone want to live without it?

Maybe migraines aren't that bad. What say you?

So yesterday Edsel and I headed out to Starbucks (Talu was at day care. Did I mention my dog day care gave Talu 10 free visits after they learned I got laid off? How wonderful is that place? Dog Days Greensboro, y'all. For all your petsitting needs), where I used the two gift cards my Aunt Mary sent me. Aunt Mary does not drink coffee, to which I say, "?" yet she got two Starbucks gift cards at Christmas from various people at her job or whatever.

I bought these two giant bags of coffee, and they said, "Do you want a complimentary coffee with that? You get complimentary coffee when you buy two pounds of beans." So I got coffee and it told me how nice I looked, and today I put the most minuscule amount of decaf in my filter.

Say, is that caffeine in your filter or are you just happy to see me?

You had all kinds of suggestions for me, including doing it slowly, which is what Ima do. There was also go cold turkey (hello), drink tea, take No-Doz, and drink water (I liked the person who suggested I become a "water addict." I cannot think of anything more depressing than being addicted to water. Oh, wait, yes I can think of something more depressing. My doctor said, "Just drink a cup of hot water in the morning, with lemon.") (He currently has an orchard of lemons sticking out his hind end.)

(Do lemons come in an orchard?)

So, thanks for your help, and it is good to know others have done this. No one has less willpower than me, but still.

In other news:

Oh I love to eat them bunnies/Bunnies what I love to eat/nibble on they giant ears/crunch they thumpy feet.

I apologize to B. Kliban for stealing his mouse song.

Who loves him his bunny food?

Who also loves the bunny food and wishes he had an irritated bowel? Is it Edsel? He has actually had the NERVE to get on the angry chair and try to hop up and eat him some canned bunny. He gets his German arse kicked every time he tries, but you have to kind of admire his sheer will.

I mean, Francis is, like, the best friend of the devil or something. Look at his glowy evil eyeballs. There's no way I would mess with his bunny food.

Do you think the devil really has a best friend? Do they curl each other's hair and make prank phone calls to the Pope? Would you ever really trust his advice?

"Get the perm! It'll be so cute!"

"Yeah, but, really? Are you being, you know, the devil right now?"

Heavens, I need a hobby.

June and her delicate brain, part deux

I returned to the headache clinic this morning, as I have not seen the headache docor who diagnosed me with a "delicate brain" since May. Because I was in that study of the experimental migraine medicine, I always saw the nurse. The head nurse, as it were. Get it?

Bah.

My brain may be delicate, but it is HILARIOUS in that bone-china-and-butterflies cranium.

Anyway, we upped the everyday thing I take to abate my delightful migraines, and also I finally consented to get nerve blocks, a thing I resisted before.

And no matter what you do, please give me unsolicited medical advice.

Before I got there, I had to fill out some paperwork, saying how many migraines I get a month (about seven) (had one last night) (my life is FUN), what I take for them (heroin), and my ... um ... caffeine intake.

Remember last time? When he told me to give up coffee?

Yeah.

"June, if you really want to make a difference in your headaches, you have GOT to get off caffeine," old Marquis de Sade told me.

"I KNOW!" I moaned, "you have no idea how addicted I am! I really tried last time and I could NOT!"

He seemed unimpressed with this info.

You guys, I used to drink wine. EVERY DAY. I'd get home from work, pour me a big old glass. I drank about half a bottle of wine a night, then on weekends I'd drink a whole bottle on Friday and again on Saturday.

I told myself this was too much alcohol, so I'd try to limit myself. I had these wine glasses? They had an etching of Michigan on them? Because I'm classy? And I'd tell myself, I will only pour wine up to Traverse City. That is all I will drink tonight.

Then I'd pour wine way up past the upper peninsula and drink all that, and revisit the U.P. a second time.  In Michigan we call the upper peninsula the "U.P." We are crazy with the abbreviations that way.

Finally I figured out I had to get help to stop drinking, so I did. But guess what? There is not a caffeine anonymous.

So here is today's Pieces of Wisdom question. How the Sam Holy Hill do I quit you, Juan Valdez? HOW DO I DO IT???

I've got a caffeinated monkey on my back.

 

June gets vinegar-y

A few days ago, I mentioned that I had a bunny in college. My friend Dottie was kind enough to email me a photo of that lovely time of my life.

Let's talk.

First off, how did I not puncture poor waving Roxanne with those nails? What was going on, there? Did I have a part-time job unscrewing things with those nails? Was I digging grout out of something?

And I KNOW I thought I was cute with that hair. I thought I was the shizz.

Also too, a few years ago I just strolled right into my old dorm. No one suspected the part where I am a total freshman-loving perv and I was not stopped. I walked right up to 273, my old room, and two girls were in there with the door open, and their small TV was in exactly the same place Liz and I had our TV in 1984. Killed me.

Neither of them had my hairdo, though.

While I'm on the subject of Dottie, which I vaguely was, the kitten she found is still in need of a nice home. Dot lives in Michigan.

"i sweet. i good wif Dot's other catz. i not mind her heeug dog. i weigh four. mostly i fur. wish you could hear ant joone's squeekee kitty voice she has in her hed while she write this."

So that's that.

Finally, I wanted to let you know I drove all the way to Raleigh yesterday to buy a latte. As you do.

There's a Norman Rockwell exhibit in Raleigh, and I am sorry I like Normal Rockwell. I know this makes me vanilla, and middle-of-the-road, and uncool and I am supposed to be road tripping to see Kandinsky or something, but Norman Rockwell makes me happy.

Marvin had his usual Sunday band ridiculous practice, and sometimes I'd like to email the other wives to see if it irks the CRAP out of them that their husbands take off in the middle of EVERY Sunday for band practice. So the point is I went alone.

I go to Norman Rockwell alone. Yeah-ah with nobody else. You know when I go to Norman alone, I prefer to be by myself.

You can take me out of Michigan...

So on the way, I notice there was a Captain D's at one of the exits. Oh, I love me some Captain D's. It is kind of like Long John Silver, with the fried fish and the friend hush puppies and the fried fried bits at the bottom of your tray. Oh!

Naturally, I made a detour, because fish is brain food.

"Y'all want vinegar with that?" they asked me at the drive-thru. Of COURSE I want vinegar with that. The fried fried bits at the bottom are DELISH with vinegar on them.

Can you guess what happened? CAN YOU GUESS? Who spilled vinegar all over herself, then forgot there was a packet of spilled vinegar all over again so she dipped her coat AND PHONE in the vinegar 10 minutes later, and I just kept thinking when I got to the museum people would have thought I'd stopped off at the Festival of Douches or something.

"My, that woman must have quit her job getting grout out and gone on to professionally dye Easter eggs."

The point is, the museum was packed. PACKED. And you could not find parking and I have to go to Raleigh later this week again for my hair appointment (Ima bring in that Roxanne photo and ask her to revamp that hair look. What say you?), so I bagged the whole plan. I will go during the week. I stopped off and got a latte and drove back home.

At least I was fresh as a spring breeze. A spring malty breeze.

Okay, I'm off. Today Ima clean the house with my Martha Stewart how-to-clean-your-house book, so by the time Marvin gets home I should be completely bitchy. It's a good thing.

Soon found out, had a tabletop of glass

When Marvin and I met, you know, the second time--not when we first dated in college but when we got back together in the '90s--he lived in LA and I lived in Seattle.

We had a long-distance relationship for about, oh, three months before we said screw it, I'm moving to LA. He had the better job. I was a receptionist and also a professional wino.

So, armed with a case of wine, I moved to LA to an apartment he found for us. Really, if you think about it, it was the fanciest rental we ever had. Marvin went for things like modern and clean and two bathrooms and a balcony, whereas once I got there and took over, from then on we had to live in places with "character" which of course means old.

The point of my story is, he had already decorated the living room and dining room, and he did a great job. I was sort of surprised. But he had done all this cool sort of midcentury modern stuff, and put funny things on the fireplace, and it was cute! Okay, he also had license plates in the living room, which after a year of being polite I finally vetoed, just so you don't think all this time I have been married to a gay man and I am wondering when we will finally consummate the marriage or something.

Marvin has better visual skills than I do. So yesterday we got home from a riveting day at Best Buy, and I was all set to watch the Bee Gees documentary I had purchased there, when Marvin started prying the glass off the coffee table.

"What ARRRRE you doing?" I asked, emphasizing the "arrrrrre" as my grandmother used to do when she'd catch me putting her bra on outside my shirt, or climbing on her counters, or giggling at her Tucks Medicated Pads.

I swear that woman had 86 hooks on her bra. It took FOREVER to hook them all up. I remember taking the time to do so, however, so I could parade into the living room where my very cool Uncle Jim and his similarly cool friends could see me.

I entered the room like Madonna before her time.

There was a silence as all the cool crowd looked at me.

"June is retarded," said Uncle Jim, resuming his guitar strumming.

Anyway, so Marvin pried the glass off the coffee table, which I guess is preferable to him putting on my bra.

He started putting things from around our house in the table. We have a lot of things around our house. Have I mentioned we are not minimalists?

He put in our cursive flash cards. What do you mean you don't have any of those? I thought they were universal, with olive oil and Vicks.

Pictures of people we don't know, a fan my mother sent me because it has a dog, and look! We are back to having a license plate in the living room.

Our old Monopoly game. We have THREE Monopoly games, including the fancy millennium edition that has computers and Labs instead of cars and terriers.

Pages from a photo album of people we don't know. In case you are just tuning in, Marvin and I collect pictures of people we don't know. Someone is supposedly making a documentary about us, along with others who have this weird hobby, but it is taking forever to get the movie finished.

Here is the link to the trailer about yours truly. Note the part where the guy makes me sound crazy as I place flowers on the grave of a stranger. How is that crazy? I'M NOT CRAZY!

Anyway, I like what Marv did to the table. You know what would be cool? Is if we could put water in there and have fish! Because we need more pets.

Plus also, does everyone want to chip in and buy us a huge TV like they have at Best Buy? Because as much as I mocked those, now I totally want one. During the Golden Globes last week? Our TV screen kept showing scenes from "Ulesqu" instead of Burlesque. They have started making things wider. Including my arse. A bigger TV would totally slim down my arse.

Have I mentioned I am not crazy? Would you like to see my gramma's bra? I'm wearing it outside my robe.

And eight animal posts is enough to fill our lives with boredom. Also? We spend our days like bright and shiny new dimes.

Wouldn't this be relaxing?

Trying to eat while huge rabid beasts begrudge your every bite? Not to mention having the phone recharger dangling in your Festa di Fantista.

I know this blog has been all-pets-all-the-time, live-nude-pets, but I got a call from the vet yesterday, and it turns out Francis' irritated bowel is more irritated than we thought. He has ANEMIA, the poor thing. So the vet said we could not just go with Fancy Feast; I had to schlep on out to the local pet supply store and buy canned rabbit for my cat.

Canned rabbit. And by the way, it's made by Dick Van Patten, this food, which is just weird because I just MENTIONED him yesterday. Also, Beverly Sills totally works at the store.  "That'll be $200.99!" she bellowed, breaking glass.

Honest engine, you guys, this CANNED RABBIT (I wish I could tell you how bad it creeps me out to be feeding a bunny to my cat) is TWO DOLLARS AND FORTY-NINE CENTS A CAN.

So that means Francis gets his own bowl of food, and now Henry and Winston have to eat over here on the counter and get rid of all the Fancy Feast I bought, and note I am using one of our real plates because I have no other cat dishes, and I have become the lady with the crystal top-heavy dish.

ting ting ting!

I love rabbits. I had my own rabbit in college--a big white bunny named Roxanne. Now I am FEEDING her to my cat.

Anyway. I also have to drive out to the country, gonna eat a lot of peaches, and I wish I'd get on stupid song tangents a little more today, and at any rate I have to pick up some steroids for Fran as well. He told me he wants to bulk up a little after this, get him some womenses. He also asked if I'd sign him up for a few tanning booth sessions.

The Frantuation.

Can you smell what The Fran is eating?

In other news, ridiculous Edsel is home, and I am supposed to be keeping him quiet.

....!

He is a six-month-old puppy. Who is supposed to be being sedate and quiet. FOR TWO WEEKS.

Did I mention ...! ?

He seems fine.When he saw me down the hall at the vet, he started an endless whine, and peed the entire hallway. Follow the yellow brick road, indeed.

He peed all the way to the counter where I was, peed on the vet tech's hand, peed on my arm and peed on his own paw. The whole time he said, "mmmmmmmmmmmmm!" in a voice higher than Beverly Sills'. I guess he was glad to see me and to get the HELL out of that castrating hellhole.

They gave him a painkiller that they said was kind of like aspirin, but to call if I felt he needed something stronger. They called to check on him today and I said yeah, let's go to the oxycontin or whatever because he does check his stitches out more than I'd like. So I will be taking a road trip to get TWO prescriptions and I am starting to feel like Elvis' assistant.

I will do comment of the week tomorrow, because believe it or not I have had no time to read all the comments to decide. I have been too busy boiling bunnies.

I won't be IGNORED, Francis.