Bye Bye, Pie!

Pup

That bitch.

When I wasn't catching up on the news yesterday, I was doing this:

I KNOW!!!!! From reading about a bitch to having one on my lap.

In case you were Googling the number for Animal Hoarders, this is not my puppy. WOULD THAT IT WERE.

My coworker, who I failed to ask what she wanted her blog name to be because we were, you know, BUSY WITH PUPPEEEE, found this little muffin on Craigslist yesterday, and let me just say for the record things are a little slow at work right now.

Anyway, she emailed me--and my coworker in real life has one of those first names that is two first names mooshed together, so let's call her TinaDoris.

Because that is a beautiful combination and sometimes I worry about the inside of my head.

So TinaDoris emailed me with this puppy's photo, and of course I squealed and swooned and fell in love, and she said her fiance had already said, No puppies right now.

"I'll go with you after work and get it anyway," I said, because I do nothing but improve relationships worldwide.

Lucky for us, the soon-to-be Mr. TinaDoris saw the picture of the pup and relented. And then TinaDoris brought her new child over to my house after work, because I pretty much demanded she do so.

Here is their first-ever photo and look how cute! Do you know what I love? Is new puppy's little feather on her head, there. When you see it up close it really looks like a white feather. When TinaDoris and her (surprisingly hot) fiance left, she was trying to talk him into the name Pocahontas. Not for himself. For the puppy. Keep up.

I say surprisingly hot not because TinaDoris herself isn't a little bundle of hotness. I had every faith she could score a cute man. But the photo of him on her desk did not do him justice.

Guess who wasn't as into the pup as we were? Also? Guess who looks a lot like my friend Dave Newman, who just wrote that movie I forced you all to go see (Friends with Benefits! It's still out, I think. Go see it a second time!)?

Not-Pocahontas was clearly already bonded with TinaDoris. We went outside, to encourage pee-age, not from any human but for the pup, and she kept leaping back to her mom, even though she'd only known her an hour and had known me for almost that long so why couldn't she have bonded WITH ME? Why couldn't it have been so obvious she loved ME that TinaDoris would have had to surrender the puppy? For her own happiness?

where mom? mom hair not ensayne like dis ladee hairs.

And speaking of happy? I put old Fang and Snarl in the back yard the minute TinaDoris and Not-Pochahontas got here, and pretty much here is what we experienced the entire time:

"Woofwoofwoofwoofwoofwoofwoofwoof! Woof!"

And also?

andersun displeeze. show you my puff taale.

no. seersly. coming to kick puppee azz now.

The puppy kept cavorting over to Anderson, being all young and innocent and having no idea she could get her eyeses clawed to bits.

Anyway. That was my excitement last night. I think there should be some kind of law; every time someone gets a new puppy, I have to meet it first. And Anderson gets to puff at it.

What say you?

Hulk eats chick pee. A tale by June.

Do you know what people need to do right now? Is leave me alone. I have been gone a bunch of days this month, so I am behind on everything, and I have one of my statistics textbooks to work on, and I feel like it's all I can do to get to my next mission.

Go to work, walk the dogs, post something on my blog, make lunch, work on textbook and then BOOM! I get one of those phone calls or emails: "Where ARE you? Why am I not hearing from you?"

You wanna know what stresses me out? One of those messages. All you have to do is look at my blog or Facebook to know I have not expired. I AM BUSY RIGHT NOW, PEOPLE.

DANG.

Anyway. Hulk was kind enough to take time out of his frenetic schedule (go to work, think about sports, think about naked women, put on Hawaiian shirt) to post about our evening at my cousin's wedding, so now I will do so.

The day dawned early for me, as I had to be at a hair salon to get some random gorgeous Indian woman to wrap me in my sari. And by "early" I mean I had to be there at 2:00. Whatever.

This is the undergarment portion of the sari. June. Showing her chones on her blog since 2011. Unless I have shown them before. In which case it'd be since whatever year that was.

Out of all the white chicks going to this shindig in a sari, not a one of us knew how to wrap ourselves up in it. "Can't we Google it?" I asked. I always want to turn to Google first. Often I wonder how I lived without Google. Sometimes I Google that. "How did I live without you?" I ask Google.

Anyway, I wish I had thought to take pictures of everyone emerging from the room where the hot Indian woman above wrapped everyone's sari. It was so beautiful! Magenta, yellow, violet, green--every bright color you can think of emerged from that room.

Mom took the shot above and you can see whose photography gene I inherited. Mom was all excited because the wrapper woman was Muslim, and my cousin is Catholic and she's marrying a Hindu. She got all we-are-the-world, Wee Pals about it. I just waited for my sari to be done.

Here's a picture of the wedding party, so you can see how lovely all the colors were. So cool! My cousins include the bride in white, my cousin Katie next to her in pink--and yes I DID want that pink sparkly one, but that's the dress Maria was married in in India, so I did not rate that one, my cousin Jennifer in purple third from left and my cousin Nonnie at the end in black and blue. The other womenses are Maria's many many friends.

I had to, you know, hang out in my sari all afternoon, but it was so comfy I ended up falling asleep on the couch with it on for about an hour. June. Taking advantage of every last second she had in Michigan.

Finally at 6:00 on the dot, Hulk arrived, because Midwesterners are a timely people. He had his ludicrous Indians shirt on and we all got a big charge out of his ridiculous self.
My mother had some of her friends over already before the wedding, because she's sociable that way. If I had people in and out my house all the time like my mother has, I would commit hari-kari. I am sort of an introvert in my own strange way. I like my alone time.

Hulk and I drove over there alone, although originally my mother had asked if she could ride with us, as she was getting up with my stepfather there. "You want to...ride with us?" I asked. "Yes, and maybe Hulk's mom should come too," mom said, getting a big kick out her own self. "I mean, shouldn't he bring his wife?"

The Hulk-married-his-mom joke. Being dropped by any of us since 2008. (If you just got here, a few years back Hulk witnessed his mom's wedding at the courthouse. He signed the wrong line and technically married her. The end.) (We have not let it drop for even a millisecond.)

Oooo, right away when I got there I knew everything was gonna be pretty.

A Ganesha ice sculpture! Too cool! Literally.

As Hulk told you, I got him a seat at the bar and loaded us up with delicious Indian food. There were American things too, but why eat those when you can get Indian tidbits?

You'd have thought I presented Hulk with a plate of my innards.

"What...is all this?" he asked, looking horrified. Who on this earth hasn't heard of hummus? Hulk. That's who. And you should've seen the teensy girly bites he would take, and then spit everything out like a fussy toddler. Thank heavens they were serving American light beer or he'd have been doomed.

Hulk got to meet my whole family, and he bonded with Aunt Sue over wanting cheese and crackers and fruit to eat, and I am sorry to tell you the two of them may have chanted "USA! USA!" while they headed for "real" food.

WhatEVER with the xenophobia.

The dining room itself was dark, and I took 2949403 photos and not one turned out well.

Here's a bad picture of me putting the napkin on my head.

Here's another bad picture of me balancing a spoon on my nose.

June. Bad at photography. Good at being appropriate at weddings.

Here's kind of a cool picture of the bride and groom making their entrance, which only showed up because the real photographer's flash went off for me. I think Sachin, my new cousin-in-law, is hot. Mrs. Robinson called...

Ooo, speaking of which, I was in line for dinner and there was a cute cute cute boy behind me. Hulk and I were not in line together so I was free to hit on just everyone. We talked, and he told me I looked great in my sari, and we started discussing if we still lived in Saginaw. "I left in 1992," I told him.

"I was four in 1992," he said.

It was at that point that I impaled myself on the Ganesha sculpture.

At any rate, Hulk and I giggled and cavorted and chatted with people and had an excellent time. And I am pleased to report he was willing to dance, which is more than I can say for most dates. In fact, I kept getting up and bursting onto the dance floor without checking if he wanted to come with me, so used to undancey dates am I.

Enclosed please find a photo of my cousin Katie and me, shakin' our goove thangs. Also in the background in the black pattered dress is my other cousin Katy (yes, we have two Kat[y]ies) and my cousin Missi in the white skirt. The four of us are dancing fools at all weddings.

It occurred to me my post about this night was gonna suck, seeing as I could get no good photos, so I took this one while I was on the pot in the women's room Note the beautiful necklace Faithful Reader Furry loaned me!

And yes. Hulk did not lie. After the food, the drinks, the photo booth, the 99493040 hours of dancing and the hobnobbing with my family, he took me home and we only got to third base.

If third base is hugging. I forget.

While I've been writing this? I just got a message from the textbook place. Can I proofread a web ad, a letter, and a catalog in the next few days on top of the book I am reading?

"June, why haven't I heard from you!!?!?!" AACCCK!

Namaste.

Hulk's Story: Going with June to a Family Wedding

[Seeing as Hulk has already written his post, and I have not written mine, I will publish his now and you'll see mine on Tuesday...]

So we kissed.  Lightly at first, smiling, giggling, playfully looking into each other’s eyes, like schoolkids hoping not to get caught by our parents.  But then the kiss grew more passionate.  I held her face in my hands; she pulled her body into mine as she wrapped her arms around me. I began to reach down—

GOTCHA!!

Who loves himself? 

June informed me that we were going to write a “he said/she said” post about our date to her cousin’s wedding reception. “Um…what?” I asked helpfully.  She replied, “I asked you a month ago if you would write a guest post about tonight and you agreed.  Have it to me by Sunday.”  “Hmmm…God help you, Whitman” I thought to myself.  But I decided that since refusing was only going to hurt my chances at getting some action later, I agreed to do it.  Here is the play-by-play…

June and I attended her cousin’s wedding reception; a joyous affair to be sure.  June’s family is just as nice, and nuts, as she is.  And I mean that in a good way…

The evening began by me getting dressed in my best shirt and tie.  And my Tribe jersey.  What? It was an Indian wedding…

Okay.  Bad joke aside, June met me at the front door, and I must say, she looked absolutely stunning in her sari. I mean, I was like, “Damn.  I should really try to tap that later…” (Hi, Mother!) 

June introduced me to some family friends as “Hulk.”  I mean, really.  I HAVE a real name.  But no. To everyone June knows I am Hulk. And for some reason they are always excited to meet me. Now THAT part I understand. But really? “Hulk”? What am I, nine? But I digress…

The reception was only a few minutes away from Mother’s house, and we arrived around 6 PM.  One of the first people I met was Uncle Leo.  

Uncle Leo’s first word to me? “Hello…”  Just like on ‘Seinfeld’! I am sure it was completely unintentional, but that was it. I was dead right there. Uncle Leo was dressed in traditional Indian garb. I think. I’ve never been there. But he looked good. None the worse for wear after his throwing-up-for-days episode.

June and I then entered the bar area, where there was a table full of hors d'oeuvres.  Now, a little about me here.  I am a picky eater.  Like 10-year-old-girl picky. And yet I am overweight. Figure that one out. Anyway, June got us a plate to share full of all kinds of Indian food. There were green things, fried green things, and hummus.  She told me hummus is made from chick peas.  You can imagine the giggles I had over THAT. Chick pee. But I wanted to be open-minded, so I tried a few items.  I’m not sure, but I think I tasted goat balls. And I am SURE there was sliced animal penis as well.  I was Tom Hanks in Big when he tries the caviar…

And, I must say this here: June talks to EVERYBODY. EVERY.BODY. We were taking our seat at the bar and she was chatting up some dude before her fanny hit the cushion! He must have thought he hit the jackpot, what with this hot chick in a blue sari all, “What do you do? Where do you live?”…Then there was the retired doctor who was sucking down screwdrivers like someone was gonna TAKE them from him.  June was all, “Who here are you friends with?  Do you have any children?  What does your son do?”  “He’s an emergency room physician…”  (Huh.  An Indian doctor whose son is a doctor. You could have knocked me over with a feather…)

June also used this time (and it was a LOOOOONG time, as the bridal party took forever to arrive, irking June to no end) to point out hot women for me to check out.  “There’s one…the gal with the long black straight hair…”  “It’s an INDIAN wedding, June,” I replied. “Could you be a little LESS specific?? I mean, throw a dart…”  But there were some very attractive ladies there.  I was hesitant to really point any out myself, for fear of June going, “That’s my 24-year-old cousin, you perv!”  And June, I have to say, you were as gorgeous as any of them.  Now now…don’t get the wrong idea here.  I’m just saying…don’t worry about dudes not finding you attractive. Honey, you are a babe.  Nice rack, too…

Finally the happy couple arrived, and we were herded in for dinner. Except that we still couldn’t eat.  There were the introductions of the wedding party, there were the 589437768484 speeches made by every person the bride and groom ever met  and then a reading by June’s stepdad (which June and I snickered through, irking MOTHER to no end, I am sure), there was the leaning cake-cutting (I swear, the cake was LEANING; I cringed every time someone walked past that table).  Finally I had to excuse myself…I had to “break the seal,” if you know what I mean (I had three glasses of water and four beers.  My friggin’ TEETH were floating!).  When I got back, everyone at our table was gone!  Nice joke, gang.  Then I figured either someone farted, or it was our turn to eat.  Luckily I saw Mother in line, so off I went to join them.  After the goat balls, my picky self was scared at what they might serve as a main course, so I loaded up on salad.  Turns out though, that they had traditional Indian food on one side and good ol’ ‘Merican fare on the other.  Awesome prime rib and potatoes.  Whose heaping salad went virtually untouched?

After dinner and the typical dances with the parents and such, the partying began.  We danced, we drank, and we took pictures (shocked you are, I’m sure).  They even had one of those photo booths?  Like at carnivals?  With props and everything.  You get your picture taken, and then they glue it into an album for the couple.  Did June make me do this?  What do you think?  Years from now they will be looking through that book, and they’ll see our picture and go, “Why did June bring Shrek to our wedding reception?”

As the night wore on, I got to hear all the fun June’s family stories.  I got to be introduced as “Hulk” to people who had no clue what that meant.  I met Aunt Sue; I blame her.  I met Smokin’ Hot Aunt Kathy (SHOUT-OUT!!),
June’s beautiful cousin Katie that she always talks about (and she ain’t lyin’), Mother’s good friend (“Are you Hulk?? You’re so famous!!”)…all in all it was a fun night.

June and I left, and I dropped her off at Mother’s, gave her a hug (a HUG!) and said goodnight.  Sorry to disappoint you all, but we did NOT hook up. Really though…wouldn’t that kind of be the Jump The Shark moment for this blog?  Kind of like when Bruce Willis and Cybill Shepard got together on Moonlighting, no?

Unwrapping the sari and the turban

I went to the Indian wedding with Hulk.

 
Who loves himself?

Anyway, when I get home Sunday I will tell you all about it, and then Monday Hulk will tell his version of events.

In the meantime, here's a brief synopsis:

  

Butt Tour 2011

Zzzzzzzz--oh! Is mom's computer finally ready? I logged on in 1712.

I know I never complain about the slowness of this computer. And in general, I have such patience. Instant gratification takes too long.

Anyway, I'm here. I drove straight through. And do you know what I had? Was a lack of ridiculousness on that drive.

I decided to get the oil changed before I left, seeing as I was gonna drive 730 miles and such. The last time the oil had been changed was when Marvin still lived with me; he did all the car things.

So I'm sitting there at the Jiffy Lube, and I thought, you know what I should do? Is check how much money I have. I thought I had about $600 to my name, which was gonna be more than enough for gas and a room, should I not make the whole drive.

$138.

That's what I had in checking. A HUNDRED THIRTY-EIGHT DOLLARS.

Do you know who has a tight grip on her finances? Is your pal Money Wizard June, here. Once I perused my account, it made sense. Oh, yeah, I had my roots done. Oh yeah, the emergency vet bill. Oh, right! The lacy bra that was $58.

You know, once you start spending money you chip away at the $600 you were thinking was in there, like an unmoving lump.

Money tips. By June. I am so starting a new segment of this blog.

This $138 cash flow influenced my decision to not stop at a hotel, and also to have a Peanut Buster Parfait for dinner.

So I'm screaming along through 86 states to get home, and I had stopped a few times: for gas, to a rest stop, to get that Peanut Buster Parfait, and I noticed my seat felt kind of, I don't know, sticky.

"Wow, these pants feel like a leather seat," I thought, continuing my vein of smartness.

Edsel had chewed a giant hole in the buttockal/girl parts region of my yoga pants. The yoga pants all the men at Jiffy Lube saw. Basically it was a whole June's Vagina Exposed tour.

I had to pull over, drag my exposed sugar walls to the trunk, get out a skirt, and do the whole "slip on the skirt/slip off the stupid half-eaten yoga pants" move.

I abhor Edsel.

After that I decided I needed caffeine as a reward, and yes I AM supposed to not drink caffeine. Shut up.

I bought the coffee, left the coffee on the counter because I was busy reading emails, had to go BACK INSIDE and get my coffee while the coffee woman--who had star tattoos on the side of her face--laughed at ME, and get in my car.

Fourteen seconds later I spilled the coffee all down the front of my white tank top. I looked like poor Jackie Kennedy's suit when they swore in Lyndon Baines Johnson.

So basically? Fun trip. Good times. Relaxing. I did find a channel on my Sirius radio that is an all-book channel, but they read one book for an hour and you get all into it and they read another book the next hour. Chaps my hide. Well. My exposed buttocks on my hot leather seat is what chapped my hide technically, but still.

The wedding is at 6:00, so maybe I better start worrying about that. It's only eight hours away. Gotta primp.

After all, it's my day.

 

In which June blows off the South to be the bland Midwesterner she's always been

I'm getting ready to get in the car to leave for Saginaw, and by "getting ready" I mean I'm sitting here blogging.

Somebody just pulled into my driveway to turn around, and I don't know about you, but if we were all in the car in high school? And we pulled into someone's driveway to do that? We'd all shout, "GET OUT THE BEER AND PRETZELS!"

Because, you know. We might be unexpected company. See.

No, I didn't grow up in a totally blue-collar town, with the beer and the pretzels. Why do you ask?

Also? A thing that makes me shudder and wonder why I am here talking to you about all the pressing details of the day? Is the memory of me in the car with my high school friends. Holy cats. We were one of those "Don't Drink and Drive" videos in the making. Sometimes the whole point of the evening was, "Let's drive around and drink!"

Horrifying.

So on that note, I'm about to get on the road for 13 hours to be home in time for my cousin's wedding. Yes, I know she already got married in India. We don't believe her and we're making her do it in front of our own eyes here in America where it counts. We all have shotguns and torches.

I have packed nothing and you know that means I will do it hurriedly and get there and realize I forgot my arms.

One thing I did manage to do was ask Marvin if he could come stay with the dogs rather than me taking them to daycare, so I don't have to endure Vomitfest Deux when I get back. He is annoyed with me because today is the first day of school, but I hardly see what one thing has to do with the other. Just show a film strip. Geez.

Oh!

When I went to the movies with Dick and his Whitman the other night, we stopped off and looked at this inexplicable bull. I liked him because he has a barrel chest like Tallulah.

dere statoo of talu somewheres?

Do you like how she was RIGHT NEXT to me and still I could not take an unblurry picture of her?

Anyway. I had better pack. Last time I forgot to bring my migraine meds and I had to seduce the woman at Target pharmacy to give me pills and then I never got a migraine. Annoying.

Okay, I'm off. Carry on.

June on veeedeo

I went to the movies with Dick Whitman last night. Yes, I know Dick Whitman and I broke up. Try to keep up with the ups and downs of my life, will you? We saw The Help, which some of us read on my blog's book club, here, and the movie was excellent.

Dick Whitman got a bag of M&Ms and ate three of them again.

Anyway, attached please find a video we made. He wanted me to meet his cute mom. Not that she's a desktop computer. But he wanted me to record a hello to her, seeing as she is still Team June and reads this blog. (I guess I have an unfair advantage over the rest of his considerable harem, seeing as I am the only one with a blog.)

Download Medium

I like how I ask him a question and then don't remotely wait for him to answer. Do I do that in real life, those of you who know me in real life?

In which June acts the fool (or, I'm not a perfect person)

I love the song The Reason by Hoobastank. Also, my next pet is going to totally be named Hoobastank.

I know the song is 10 years old, but I like it anyway. I was drawn to it originally because there is a big ruby in the video and if you show me something shiny and pretty I will be drawn to it, as I'm a crow. But then I just started liking the song in general.

 

They were playing it at the Harris Teeter, there, where I shop. I shop at Harris Teeter almost every day, a fact that annoys the hoobastank out my mother. "Write a list, honey," she says. But I really don't mind going to Harris Teeter. It's like two minutes away and what else do I have to do?

The point is, I must feel at home there, because I was at the coffee beans, grinding the decaf with my little pinch of caf I allow myself, and I was sing-sing-singing along.

"I FOUND a reason for meeeeeee," I sang, dumping the beans in, "to change how I used to beeeeeee..."

You know, Marvin didn't allow me to sing in the house. I offended his fine musical ear.

"A REASON to start over NEWWWWWW. AND THE REASON IS YOUUUU! AND THE REASON IS YOUUUU!"

"You, um, certainly like that song," said a man who I had NO CLUE was there. He was looking at prepackaged beans. He totally looked like that guy who played the counselor in Freaks and Geeks. Did you watch that show? Netflix it. It is a wonderful wonderful show.

So that was my humiliation. But it gets better! Oh, yes!

Many people at work do this workout in a spare room both at noon and after work. I decided to join them, with my athletic self, and did I mention one of the people who does this workout is my pal Vilhelm Oyster, who is lean and muscular and has no fat on him whatsoever?

I got into my workout clothes, which by the way, I meant to pack my "I'm kind of a big deal on the internet" shirt that Faithful Reader Joann gave me, but in my haste I packed my "Owl are Assholes" tshirt, which meant I had to wear it inside-out seeing as I was at work.

My POINT is, could this workout have been harder? Holy cats in a blanket. We were working our core, and if I HAD a core, it would be exhausted. And when I was done? I still had four hours left of work.

"I just got done working out. My hair looks like my brain has finally snapped," I wrote to Daniel Boone once I minced back to my desk. Seriously. It was ALL OVER the place, whipping to and fro. I was whipping my hair back and forth, but not in a cute Willow Smith kind of a way.

And could I have been more perspire-y?

Bringing sexy back. Is what I did over in my cube all afternoon.

And then finally, I had to go bra shopping tonight because as we all know, I need a strapless brassiere. And yes, I said "brassiere" because I am your grandma.

So I was trying on the bras, and I finally settled on a nice lacy one that I would show you but my exhibitionism only goes so far. Afterwards, I decided to shop around at other stores, because I really need a blue tank top to go under my sari for this weekend.

Shop after shop I entered, talking to sales clerks, smiling at people. And when I got home?

I realized my shirt was on backwards. The scoop was all in the back. The front was all up under my business. And my hair still had the "my brain snapped" look from working out eight hours earlier.

Wait. How is it I haven't managed to snag a new husband yet?

 

June and her motorcycle gang self

It's Monday! Wooooooo!

Okay, I really don't give a crap that it's Monday. I like the weekends, I like my job, I don't mind going to it. Either way it's fine with me. I am not Garfield.

Oh. Hang on. Had to stitch up my sides just thinking of that funny Garfield. Where's the lasagna?

So when we last left off with each other, Daniel Boone had come over to rescue my sick arse. I warned him I have no personality when I have a migraine, but he persevered. He made quesidillas. Ole! And they were delicious. Si! Okay, I will stop being bilingual now. Holy frijoles!

Daniel B. had leftover chicken and bacon (yes. bacon. Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm MMM.) and he said, "Where can I put this while we eat so the dogs won't get it?"

I don't know. Cambodia? The dogs were BESIDE themselves that someone was cooking in general in there. They had their napkins tied around their necks and a knife and fork in each paw. So excited were they that something other than coffee and haste were being made in that kitchen.

Finally, DB decided to store the food in the oven, so he opened the door, and Edsel lept 149 feet out of his fur so just his skeleton hovered in the air. He had no idea that thing had a door that opened.

explaan again about oven door, mom. it so shocking.

As we were feasting, DB kept saying, "Shall I bring you more? You okay with drinks? I'll let the dogs out." Finally I had to remind him it was MY house and he was supposed to be the guest.

Why does everyone come over here and just take care of me? I can't complain about this phenomenon, really.

Then once he had fed me, I killed DB and left his corpse on my back deck. YOU HAVE SERVED YOUR PURPOSE, MAN! I EAT YOU LIKE BLACK WIDOW!

Really he is putting up my screen door, here, and I wish I had thought to, you know, photograph it once it was up but I have been busy, dawgs.

For example, I was quite caught up in making a mustache out of Tallulah fur that DB gathered up. Also I needed to show my bra strap. Because we all don't get enough of that.

But my new screen door makes such a wonderful squeaky Walton's-screen-door sound, and it has such a rewarding FWAP! when it shuts. Screen door! Yay!

We enjoyed having our beloved Daniel Boone over, is what I'm telling you. Tallulah is hopelessly enamoured of him. She is totally writing "Lu luv Daneeel" on her notebooks right now. Remember how we'd use the front of our notebooks, and with the eraser write a big heart and the name of who we liked in it? My heart always read "Barry Gibb." No, I wasn't a giant loser in school. What do you mean?

Daniel Boone had fun, too. He said despite the fact that my personality had one hand tied behind its back with my migraine and all, I am still the most delightful woman on planet Earth. Okay, maybe he said "delightful" without all the other crap. Whatev.

At any rate, on Sunday I had to get the hell on the road to meet The Fireman for my big ride on his manly bike and then for a manly hike. Who pretended she was atheletic and fun in order to reel in The Fireman? And who totally got jewelry out of the deal?

The Fireman thinks jewelry is a huge waste of money and does not see the point of women needing jewelry. You can imagine this has been a topic of conversation I...revisit, seeing as THERE IS NOTHING MORE APPALLING THAN A MAN WHO WON'T BUY JEWELRY.

The other day I got him to reverse his stance on something or other and I said, "That was easy. How much do you have to like me before I can get you to start wanting to buy me jewelry?"

Now, here is the thing about The Fireman. He thinks things through a lot. Like, once I mentioned my deep and abdiding love for the royal family and he scoffed.

The next time we saw each other, he said, "You know, I thought about my reaction to you about the royal family. That was unfair. Instead of making fun of you, what I should have done is ask you what it is about them that compells you."

I thought that was wonderful. I opened my mouth to speak and he said, "Oh for God's sake don't really TELL me. I was just saying what I SHOULD have done."

Who kills me? So anyway, Fireman gave this huge diatribe on how he COULD change his mind SOME day on the jewelry thing, and my point is after our ride on his hog (are hogs only Harleys? Because he doesn't have a Harley. Whatever.), we took this big hike and when we got to a clearing, we sat down.

"You know, I have given more thought to the jewelry thing," he said, PULLING OUT A BOX.

I panicked a little.

And then?

Don't ever let it be said The Fireman never gave me anything. A stretchy ring with sequins on it! Who loves himself?

I told him the good news is it can only go up from here.

So let's not skip over the part where June, here, got on a FRICKING MOTORCYCLE. Oh, I was nervous. I WANTED to try it and yet I was horrified.

The Fireman said, "My friends thought it was interesting you were willing to do this."

"Do they think I'm daring?" I asked.

"No. It's just you're climbing up and wrapping your legs around someone you barely know."

"Story of my life," I said.

Now, see. Why I gotta say stuff like that? It just SLIPS OUT before I can stop my own self. Who thinks I am a giant tramp now? Is the The Fireman? Grace Kelly, once again.

There it is. AAAACK! And note the helmet with CRUSHED SKULLS that was for me. I mentioned a pink sparkly helmet would be a must in the future. Who is a delightful, unfussy date? Who was already irked at me because I brought a purse? Like I was gonna go all day without my lipstick. Come on.

Pretty. Suddenly religious. June.

I get on the thing, and here was my brain:

OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD! AAACK! AAACK! ...Oh! Hunh. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!

The whole rest of the way, my brain just said Wheeeeeee! Oh, that was fun! I wasn't even scared after the first minute. I was born to ride, dudes. I am a biker bitch.

Or at least half that.

 

Shining armor

Daniel Boone is here cooking for my migrainey self.

He also claims he's gonna put up my screen door later.

If he weren't such a rotten boyfriend, Daniel Boone would be a wonderful boyfriend.

But he makes a perfect friend.