I just got back from having dinner with The Other June, and I am writing this before I go to bed. I have a dentist appointment early Thursday morning, so I am writing my post at night, and let me tell you. Things are fascinating over here at House of June.
I hate getting my teeth cleaned. It makes me nervous. And my dentist always comes in after and says, "Mmm. MMMMM! Oh, mmmm. Yeah, how long have you had that old filling?" He's always trying to get ye olde filling replaced that Benjamin Franklin put in for me in 1742, and hadn't Benjamin Franklin been long dead by 1742? June. Knowing her history.
Anyway, my blacksmithed filling is still working FINE, and I don't see why it can't stay in there. It makes a great weather vane, too!
In other news, The Other June and I had a delicious dinner at a pretentious restaurant that serves Southern food, which is kind of redundant. I mean, we're in the South. It's kind of funny to me that they have a fancy restaurant where you can go get...Southern food. Nevertheless, everything was just effing delicious and I highly recommend it. It's called the Southern something-or-other. Get there tout suite.
After dinner, The O.J. came to my house so she could meet Iris and Lily. In the time she has known me, she has met baby Henry,
Baby Anderson Cooper:
and now baby Iris.
Could I stop PLOWING THROUGH CATS, PLEASE?
Also, she came to visit not-baby Lily.
Lily gets her own font, with asterisks, she is so pretty.
And in case you wonder what the hell happened to all those cats because you just got here last Tuesday or something, Marvin took Henry when he left, then delicate, gay Anderson hated living with dogs so I said to Marvin, "Maybe you'd better take Anderson too." So now Anderson and Henry live in connubial bliss, even though I don't really know what connubial means. Then Roger got killed last month and let's talk about that a lot because that doesn't still make me miserable to think about our anything, so I got Iris and Lily at the pound just now.
Anyway. Oh! And before I got up with The Other June and we had our redundant Southern food and she once again met some cats I got, I got me a manicure over at the Elegant Nails & Tan. To which I say, "Define elegant."
My point is, my manicurist talked me into getting this gel manicure, which supposedly will stay on for the rest of my life.
We had a big talk, the manicurist and I, about how she studied French in high school and then in college studied accounting and forgot all her French, then got here and knew very little English. I always wonder how bad it must be to have to move here, give up all that schooling, thrust yourself into a country where you don't know the language, and have to work six days a week as a manicurist.
She works way more than 40 hours a week. She works the whole time the salon is open. How dreadful. Oh! And the woman next to me works for the place that invented those faces on trees. You know how you can buy those woody-looking faces for your tree? Yeah. Also, before she left for her manicure, she told her husband, "I put dinner in the oven, but you have to check it once in awhile." He said, "Well, what am I looking for?"
She was irritated. Also there were two women there getting pedicures and drinking wine. The woman who invented the tree faces told me those women come in all the time. Bring their own cooler. I noticed it took them an hour and a half to drink one glass of wine. What is the point of schlepping a whole cooler of alcohol to the pedicure place if you're not going to drink alcoholically?
I guess that's all I have to tell you. Except that we have a new woman at work and I love her. Today she wore a leopard skirt, a pink shirt with a big flowery frilly thing, and pink sparkly shoes. And she has this framed print in her office that is a picture of Cinderella, and the picture is from the book I had as a kid.
I actually have never done hallucinogens. Unless you count Benadryl, which makes me see funny colors and jump off high-rises because suddenly I have peacock wings that fly.
I should totally frame these, shouldn't I? Aren't they beautiful? When I really couldn't read I used to make up stories that went with them, kind of like now with the swan allergy story. Not much has changed through the years, except now I apparently have Lincoln Park on my nails for life.
Hold still, darling, and we'll just jooge your flower a little and--voila! FABULOUUUUS! Ernesto, bring that mirror, you lazy antelope. You'd let the lion eat you if it meant moving off the plain while Real Serengeti Wives was on. Oh, sweetheart, you're GORGEOUS! I could EAT YOU UP if I weren't a grass-eating queen!
Maybe I need to get out more.
Talk to you tomorrow, when I have sparkly new teeth. I mean, except for ye olde fyllyng from Geoffrey Chaucer.