Bye Bye, Pie!

Rain hair

Girl, I got no time to talk today. I am meeting Dot Dot Dot Friend, and I like how that's become his name, for lunch at noon, and it's 10:23 and guess who just woke up 23 minutes ago? So I have to shower and put makeup on and dry my hair, which I assure you is gonna be rain hair because it's, you know, raining.

So I will dash, but not go to Dash, the Kardashians' store, but before I do I wanted to tell you I got sucked into Downton Abbey like everybody else. You know how I have Netflix on my DVD player now? Perhaps you did not see it on your CNN news feed on your home page. Well, I do. I can just turn on my TV with my smile and then say, "Netflix, please" and there it is.

They had season one of Downton Abbey, and I said what the hay.

Guess who sat there for the next seven hours, watching show after show? Then yesterday I went on SnootyPublicTelevision dot com and watched the first two episodes of season two. So now when y'all prattle on about this show in the comments I will not be bored to death.

Speaking of snooty TV, why is Vicky so religious all of a sudden on Real Housewives? It feels phony to me. Especially given that she is such a rude person. God is probably all, "Get her off my team." Wait. I should use some kind of God font. Get her off my team.

God speaks in sans serif, apparently. You know, this Typepad is really crappy when it comes to giving me good font choices. I realize that is kind of a first world problem. But really. It was hard enough finding a Lily font, much less a God font.

I wonder if there's a way to get new fonts in here, so I can have richer font choices when I am making fun of Vicky Gundelson and being sort of blasphemous?

See. This is why I'm late for things. I start worrying abou how to get a God font, then I Google it, and next thing you know I am at lunch in my pajamas.

So okay. Going. Downton Abbey is a good show, though. By the way. I need no fancy font to tell you that.

 

 

For Mor Yeer. A guest post by Tallulah Blueberry Gardens

My name Lu Gardins. I live with Big Hair. She annoy Lu sometime.

Big Hair say it for yearz that Lu been living here now. Lu haf no idea what yeerz be. All Lu no is she wake up here and eet here and go to sleepz heer. All time.

One day Lu just standeeng on side of rode. Not hurting no one. Yellow car come RIGHT UP to Lu. There Big Hair. hello doggie. she say. why you on side of rode? she say.

Lu have answer for her. But she get no time to tell beause Big Hair swoooop up Lu and put her in car. your name talulaa. she say. you my dog now.

so okaaa. lu live wif Big Hair and that other guy after that. it all rite. get lots of prezent.

at new howse there also lot of catz. it annoy.

so Lu annoy back.

Sometime Big Hair redicuuulus about Lu. Sometime Big Hair need to get over it.

sometime think mom need to have hyuumin baby and not dog.

sometime Lu want to go Pit Bull on mom azz.

Pit Bull, mom. Can eet lips off you any time Lu want, mom.

But mostlee Lu like it heer. It not so bad.

we play. we haf fun.

then one daa Big Hair bring home nother dogg.

why?

no, realy. why?

he not bad all time. but most time he bad.

we all no who best dog be.

Lu best dog.

that all Lu got to say about living heer. who all you? Why you look at Lu all time? 

Reemembur, lu can go Pit Bull on all yer azzez.

The Blogist

My favorite thing last night was when Angelina Jolie struck that stupid pose with her leg out, and when the writers of The Descendants came on stage, the one guy posed just like her. heeeee!

Do you have any idea how hard it is to take a picture of your own leg?

Oh look. I found a picture of it. I didn't even have to photograph my own leg. That was for your viewing pleasure, though.

I watched the Oscars at a party my friend Marty Martin had.

I know. I had my phone with me and the lights were low. Here is my ...friend breaking Marty's wine opener.

We got there late, because I (sit down) made brownies, and they wouldn't cook. I kept sticking spade toothpicks in there and it kept sticking. (I just linked you to the ball I had for Edsel after he got neutered. Who cracked her own self up with "Don't get testy, party pictures are here"?)

But see? Not only did I MAKE brownies, but people ATE them. Do you think Dot Dot Dot Friend thinks I'm domestic? It's only about the fourth or fifth time he's ever come over and there I was with an oven mitt on. Oh, what a tangled web we weave...

Here is Marty Martin, trying to fix the wine opener that Dot Dot Dot Friend broke. I really don't think he broke it. I mean, it's the highfalutinest, fanciest wine opener you've ever seen, and it kind of fell apart, but Marty said it always does that. Anyway now Dot Dot Dot feels terrible about it.

Also, Marty Martin was drunk. Did I mention that? He called me when we were already in the car. "WHERE ARE YOU? YOU COMING TO THE PARTY?" I was all, "Yeah, we're right at your street. My brownies wouldn't cook. Why? Do you need ice or something?"

"NO! I'M ALREADY DRUNK!"

And with that he hung up.

I have known MM for a couple years now, and have never seen him drunk. It was quite a sight.

Here he is with his adorable dog Spiro. Note that Spiro seems tired of his drunk ass, also.

You don't have to tell me how dreadful these pictures are. I should've brought the real camera. So we could have captured Marty Goes to Rehab with sparkling precision.

I thought Penelope Cruz was the prettiest one last night,
(I took this photo with my iPhone) and I liked what's-her-name. The Swan. The young girl. Oh, hell. Red dress, beautiful necklace. NATALIE PORTMAN! Geez. She looked good.

How many of you were just up there in that paragraph yelling at me, "NATALIE PORTMAN!"?

I adore Tina Fey, but what the hell was she wearing, with that peplum action? Did she have a saber under there? An extra-value meal? What the hell?

She has a lovely figure, says June, who turned 87 last month. Why doesn't she show it off?

And I am glad The Artist won. Did I not say it should win? Did not June speak? June has speaken. And although Meryl Streep was EXCELLENT in the Margaret Thatcher movie (and perhaps it'd have been nice of her to thank Margaret Thatcher in her speech), I was rooting for The Help lady, whatever her name is. Viola. Right? Viola and Octavia are being some names you hear every day.

So that was my Oscar report. In a post-report, Marty is feeling crappy but made it to work, and DDD Friend wrote me to ask where he could get a fancy wine opener for Marty, and I am still in the brown robe from the photo at top. All is glamorous in my world.

Flames, Hello Kitty, being 10 and The Artist

Do you understand JUST HOW MUCH Iris sits on me? With her blind self? I guess there isn't much more to do when you got no, you know, eyeballs.

Oh, she gets around FINE. She sees enough. I notice she has trouble really knowing how far it is from the table to the fur-covered couch. She lifts her paw out and tries to touch the couch first, and it takes her a few tries. Poor "What-depth?" girl.

She was my companion yesterday while I sat here like a moron and watched Sex and the City for 29 hours. Which by the way I saw in its entirety probably twice before I got the box set, and which I have watched all over again from start to finish at least three times. Then I rewatched it with the director's comments.

So it was productive that I watched all of season three again yesterday.

If I don't immediately pick her up when I am here at the computer (Iris, not Carrie Bradshaw), she does this poking at me thing, shown here. "MEW! MEW!" poke poke poke poke. Not at all annoying when I'm trying to work here.

When I wasn't underneath Iris and/or watching DVDs with my active family...

The first person to say, "I thought you weren't allowing the dogs on the couch, June" gets humped by Talu. I am sending her over to your house with an Al Green tape and some champagne-flavored kibble. And yes, I am in my purple robe in this shot. Did I mention I'm suing Justin Timberlake, because I in fact brought sexy back?

...I cat-sat for Tall Boy.

I didn't dig through his personal effects even though he told me I could, but I did notice he alphabetizes his books and DVDs. He is kind of a Tidy Tess. Also, he has six KISS DVDs.

When I got back from scooping the poop of cats who weren't mine--and honestly, how enviable is my life?--I went back home with the idea that maybe I'd do something useful, when Marvin popped over. He had borrowed my tax records for his own, and was returning them. I was here in the computer room and looked up and there was Marvin's giant pink car in my driveway, which is not a euphemism.

I haven't been what you'd call hanging with Marvin a lot. I feel worse now about us breaking up then I did when he left. So hanging is not really a great idea. Nevertheless, there he was, in my living room.

"What's this book?" he asked, getting the Jeffrey Dahmer book that I keep forgetting to return to Tall Boy, even though I have now been at his house three times since I finished it.

"That's the book Jeffrey Dahmer's dad wrote."

"Ooo! What'd he say?"

"Well, mostly that he had no idea his kid was nuts. But the dad himself admitted that he liked to set fires when he was young. He found it arousing. He was aroused by fire," I said.

"Jeffrey Dahmer's dad wanted to have sex with fire?" asked Marvin, who goes around getting a kick out of his own self more often than is healthy. "Hey, let me just have sex with--ow!"

"Yes. He can't forget about his old flame," I said, similarly loving me. It's easy cause I'm beautiful.

"He was always getting burned in his relationships," said Marvin.

"So he went on Match.com!" I said, getting onto the Zales website to buy myself an eternity band.

The good news is, Marvin set my DVD player up so now I can watch Netflix without having to order Netflix. I mean, I don't just think up a movie in my mind and it appears on the screen. I guess technically I still have to order it. You know what I mean. Shut up.

Finally, it was night and time to get up with my old flame Dick Whitman.

My friend Dot sent me a Hello Kitty mood necklace, which is THE BOMB, and which I wore last night. I kept asking Dick Whitman, "What mood am I in now?" which I'm certain was not annoying. Or anything. I wonder what color his Hello Kitty necklace was?

I got a BLT salad, and the Ts were fried green tomatoes. Do you know anyone who can take a salad and make it so desperately unhealthy?

Because I'm watching my figure, I also got pink lemonade cake. So my vegetables AND fruits were covered.

I took this from the car while we were driving, but this guy's name killed me. Because I'm 10. I mean, maybe it's not even a name. Maybe it's a sentence.

Also, who sells pickles at the movies? And $2.50 is highway robbery.

I had better go now because in a few hours my ...friend will be here and we are going to an Oscar party at Marty Martin's. We all discussed dressing up but Marty Martin did not want to buy body glitter, as he just ran out. So we're wearing normal clothes.

I don't have a movie that I think desperately needs to win, do you? I do think The Artist was really cool and unusual, so maybe it should win.

June has spoken.

Totally a Katie Girl

Good gravy, I love Sex and the City so much.

 

Throw this lifeless lifeline to the wind. Or, June does flowerspeak.

I went out for a giant Americano with Dick Whitman yesterday, at 5:00 p.m. Guess what was a stupid idea. There I was at midnight, like Bono.

"I'm wide awake! WIDE AWAKE! WIIIIDE AWAAAAKKE! I'm not sleeping."

Did he really need to throw in that last line? I think we got it when you screeched at us about being wide awake 14 times. Imagine being his wife.

 

Are you shocked I threw in a U2 YouTube? Please enjoy Bono's mullet. You think you're wide awake? Vidal Sassoon hasn't slept since you got that thing.

June. Using current hairdresser references since 1979.

So. Trouble falling asleep. Is what I'm telling you. Thanks to D. Whitman and his giant black coffee. He was working in Greensboro yesterday, which he does not normally do. We were celebrating this fact. Woo!

Other than that, I sat around and waited to get jobs. Which I did not get. I mean, I didn't officially NOT get any, and I didn't get any. So to speak. And I read all of that Jeffrey Dahmer's dad book, which was sad. I mean, you feel terrible for the guy. "Hey, Jeff, why'd you get a freezer?" I mean, he actually asked him that. Ack. Right there is why I never wanted kids.

Of course, then God saw fit to bring me Francis. Who given the chance would have poured acid into as many head holes as he could.

@#@&%*@, mom. And who the blynd cat you got there now? She a wimp.

eyeriss heer you, and she NOT A WIMP. ded cat. ded cat in yardd.

Iris is getting big, and every so often one of the cats will walk by and I'll think, wait. Was that Lily or Iris? I have to see if the cat in question has eyeballs or not.

Anyway, I am (wait for it) going to do freelance work now, but Ima do it outside because it is OUTSTANDING weather. I know it snowed, like, three days ago. All my daffydills are up and yes, I am annoying for calling them that.

We up. Now what?

Hiya, 'cynth!

Sadly, I believe I made this funny funny joke last year. I like this photo because Edsel's snout just barely made it in. We were going for a walk and I decided to take a picture first. You can imagine how this pleased him, seeing as walk time is NUMBER ONE TIME EVER! EVER! WALK BEST TIME! I'M WIDE AWAKE! WIDE AWAKE!

I'm not sleeping.

Okay. June out. Somebody tell me about anything interesting they're doing this weekend. I have Dick Whitman tomorrow night and an Oscar party on Sunday. You?

P.S. I want a cool nickname like The Edge. I realize I just said I want you all to call me Nippy. But now I want to be "The" something. The Nippy makes no sense.

The point is...

Faithful Reader Mrs. ridiculous Oh made this. She is berserk.

Speaking of my dogs, and I know you are all happy I just started that way, last night we played a rousing game of where's the treat, where I hide treats around the house like it's dog Easter, because it was raining and Edsel was getting distinctly nervous about the thunder.

Tallulah yesterday afternoon, when the weather was getting ominous. She senses weather with her tongue. Like a snake.

All his life, which is, you know, a year and seven months but still, he has never acted nervous about thunderstorms, and then last night he kept looking at me with a concerned expression, and placing his head on my lap.

My POINT is, I started the game to distract him, and he kept finding the treats, but sometimes they fall out his mouth, because his bottom teeth don't exactly line up. I don't know if you've ever noticed this. He has a bit of an underbite.

Edzul do?

So AGAIN, getting to the POINT, and now I sound like my college roommate, who would take 96 hours to tell a story and then say, "But the point is..." and at that point you had hung yourself from a noose seven hours previous.

The TREATS kept falling out his MOUTH, and even though he found them fair and square, Talu would swoop right under him and eat the fallen food. I felt so bad for him that eventually I just GAVE him treats without making him look for them.

But you know what happened? Do you? He was lording over a treat, and Talu came over in her usual bossy way, and Edsel STOOD HIS GROUND. He got right over it and showed her his fierce fangs and he GROWLED. At TALU! No one growls at Talu.

And you know she crumpled like a house of cards? She kept looking at him out the side of her face, like, You sereeus? But he was. He was sereeus. I have never seen Eds take a stand before.

Oh, dear, I hope they don't kill each other in a turf war now.

It'll probably be okay.

In other news, I am cat-sitting for Tall Boy this weekend.

Ohmygod, I just had the best idea. I should get him a new blanket. Like, a Hello Kitty blanket or something. Replace that awful one he has.

I am linking a lot today. I am the missing link.

My POINT is, and wow, I really cannot get to any points today, he took me to lunch to thank me in advance.

Yeah, dude! We totally went to Sonic. What's poppin'? My arteries.

Oh.hell.yeah.

And yes. Tall Boy IS a vegetarian, and he got jalapeno poppers and onion rings. And I introduced him to the cranberry lime-aid, which is the best invention on God's planet.

June. Influencing the diets of healthy vegetarian people since 1965. When she eschewed formula and ordered a pizza.

Anyway, he says I can totally look through his things while I cat sit, and what say we have a total All Things From Tall Boy's House day on this blog? Fun!

I wonder what color coat he'll take on his trip?

Anyway, I guess that's all I have to tell you. TB loaned me a book written by Jeffrey Dahmer's father and it is riveting. I have work to do today and all I want to do is keep reading that book. Can you imagine? You're a normal person and you raise a serial killer who is also a cannibal and oh! Also a necrophiliac?

Dear Mom,

Things could be worse.

Love,

June

Okay, going. I got an email that my workout videos are on their way. Am I thin yet?

Pieces of Wisdom. Gone with the Febreze.

We pretty much don't need a lot of dry-erase board use for yesterday's Pieces of Wisdom question, which was how much do you enjoy socializing and how much do you enjoy staying in.

This is good, because as you can see, I had trouble finding a marker that would work on my board. I do not know what happened to the nice marker that came with it but I blame Marvin or Edsel. Perhaps they worked in cahoots. My point is, almost all of you said you were homebodies, which was coming to me as home [space] bodies and home[hyphen]bodies and finally I had to yell at you in the comments. ONE WORD! IT'S ONE WORRRRRRRRD.

June's blog. Come to get yelled at. Stay to get yelled at.

After awhile, and someone noted this in the comments, too, after your hair returned from its blown-back position from my yelling, that people who read blogs may be, you know, introverts in general. Wouldn't the annoying extroverts be out there partayying and hobnobbing and guffawing it up as we speak, with no time to sit in a room and read a blog?

Also, those trash bags that they scented with Febreze make me want to hurl. I realize that was kind of, you know, HEY! from nowhere, except I just put a new trash bag in here and blurrgh.

Febreze. What an annoying name. What is it even short for? A February breeze? Because in general those are sort of unpleasant.

Anyway, thanks for participating. June's readers. Hating people and social activities since birth. Enjoying their pajamas since middle age.

Okay, SOME people were gadabouts. But not many. You all basically said okay. I will go out on weekends, MAYBE. But weekdays? Forget it. And last-minute stuff? Bite me. Oh and whatever you do, please drop in. We all adore that. PEG.

In somewhat related news, I went out last night. 

My friend Jo, featured above, here, wearing a cool coat from my other friend Kit's vintage shop, had a book-up. I really like that coat. I wish I had a job, because I'd totally get a cool vintage coat that the pets could shed on.

A book-up is a thing I think she invented, but it's where a bunch of people get together and read. I am not making that up. We met in a restaurant, introduced ourselves, got out our books and read. We were at several different tables at the restaurant, and we varied in age from 17 (the 17-year-old brought a Kindle) (I am so plebeian) to, you know, middle-aged. In the prime of life. I like to say. I'd be wrong, but still.

I was reading a book my friend Dot sent me, called It Looked Different on the Model, and why did I have to bring a funny book to the book-up? Because everyone was over there reading normal books, and deep books, and there I was, all bent over in hysterics. She has a chapter on this woman who whipped out her breastical at a party, ostensibly to breast-feed, except there was no baby in sight, ever, the entire time her breast was out, and oh, I was dying. DYING. Like I am dying here next to the Febreze bag. And I'm certain I wasn't annoying or distracting. Like the Febreze bag.

Jo made me a certificate of excellence for my blog. I was awarded for my exceptional petspeak.

iris give you petspeek. you wash iriss. @#@% you, mom. Ther you petspeek.

Someone might have, you know, not dropped Mrs. Brown off at the sandbox in a manner that was entirely 100%. And therefore someone may have been dunked in a sink of soapy water. For a while. 'twasn't pleasant.

Look at her teensy foot. Her teensy outraged foot.

Anyway.

After the book-up, Jo and I had coffee across the street, and I feel the need to mention the restaurant and coffee shop were right next door to where my dot dot dot friend lives. I am afraid I sent a disclaimer email before the evening began.

Dear Dot Dot Dot Friend,

I am going to be at a restaurant 20 feet from your apartment. I am not stalking you. XO, June.

I mean, I felt like I had to clear that up. You know? Why he gotta live somewhere so centrally located? Anyway he was all, ...yeah. Okay. Would not have thought that you were.

So then I mentioned how he should not be alarmed by the cherry picker outside his window with me in it. Just happened to be there, too. Why I gotta go too far? With the jokes? (Oh, good. Now someone can leave a comment about how annoying my personality is again, and how I'll never catch a man as a result.)

Also, when I was stalking Iris to get a photo of her wet humiliation, I took a picture of my own self in the mirror, because what's unobnoxious? It's a photo in a mirror. That is what is unobnoxious. Anyway I like it.

I did finally catch that poor kitten and, you know, towel her off. I didn't just get involved with myself in the mirror and let her parade on the wood floors in all her soppiness. I forgot that long-haired cats get this delightful condition every once in awhile. And the part where I have selected short-haired cats has come rushing back to me with remarkable clarity.

Okay, I must go. I have A LUNCH DATE and yes. Another day with a social obligation in it. Perhaps I will talk about Iris' butt the entire time. This could guarantee me more down time.

Go on with ya!

Sadly, every Tuesday is fat Tuesday, over here. Oh, but I brought Pieces O' Wizzdom back!

When did Monster become such a crappy site? It used to be the first place I'd go to look for jobs, and now they list nothing. What happened to it? Does anyone have any good ideas for looking for jobs? I go on Indeed and SimplyHired, those are good. Cragislist here is only a scam. In LA they listed actual jobs. I wish Craigslist would be more, you know, fussy about who advertises on there.

Not that I am not swamped. Do you know there has not been one day since I got laid off that I haven't had work to do? I guess that's good, right? Although to tell you the truth it's been kind of stressy. It's like, ohmygod I have all this work to do and ohmygod will I have work to do next week and also will I have a house next month?

So. Stressy. Is what I am. And if one more person asks if I have heard back from that company Ima come over there and dance the entire Latin hustle on your dinner table. While I am naked except for baseball cleats. It won't be pretty, I assure you. In case you were thinking, Oh! That might be pretty! What a lovely centerpiece that might make for my daughter's wedding!

And I've had a lot of social engagements, too. I think people must feel sorry for me, which, you know. Go ahead. I don't blame you. But I also have not had one day since I got laid off where I have not had the option to go somewhere.

This has all made me cranky. I know. I am a delight.

I wish I just had a day, A DAY, where I could keep to myself. You know? With no commitments or obligations or obligations that I am turning down. You'd think being single and unemployed would garner me just exactly that sitch but in fact it has garnered me the opposite.

Which leads me to a pieces of wisdom, which someone in the comments said I should bring back, and I am sorry, person in the comments, that I do not remember who that was and do not feel like combing through 8,000 Downton Abbey comments to find.

But I used to ask you a question on Tuesday, and you would answer it, and then on Wednesday there'd be a Pieces of Wisdom Wednesday, see, where I often held up a dry-erase board with your statistics. Eleven percent of you prefer rainy days. Remember that exciting Pieces of Wisdom? Half of you are on Team Francis. That sort of thing.

Today's Pieces of Wisdom Q is, do you get cranky when you have too many social obligations? I mean, you might think I am a total extrovert, and in fact I am not. I like going out and doing things, but if I had plans, say, two nights in a row, I had better have nothing to do on night three or Ima be one cranky heifer at your third-night event. I need my alone time.

On the other hand, I know someone {...dick whitman...} who does stuff pretty much every night, and who schedules me a week in advance. "You doing anything next Thursday? I thought we'd see a movie." Next THURSDAY? Who the hell even THINKS about next Thursday? Yeah. Okay, dude. Whatever.

I mean, he comes home from work, and leaves again just to go hang in coffee shops. I'm all, you're HOME. Safe in the bosom of your abode! Why would you want to LEAVE again?

So tell me. Which do you prefer? Doing something and being with people as often as possible (this sounds to me like Faithful Reader Joann)? Seeing people as little as possible (FR Siren)? Seeing people on a set schedule, like, "We have dinner with our friends every Thursday. If they dropped in on Tuesday I'd get hives"?

Tell all.

You only have one nondoughnut hand. Use it wisely.

That title comes from my Krispy Kreme cup which is currently on my desk. Let's discuss the part where I just got an effing doughnut and yet also just spent $104 on The Tracy Anderson Method after watching an infomercial at 1:00 in the morning. Okay, technically I just spent three easy payments of $29.99 plus shipping, which was $470.

Yes, this is totally a photo of me and not Tracy Anderson. I was just parading around here in my heels and enormous bikini top. And fringe.

And I KNOW I'm unemployed. That part crossed my MIND, okay? I was sitting there last night, thinking about how I should really go to bed, having watched Signs on one of those stupid movie channels that still has commercials every six minutes and why do we bother with those horrid channels when (a) there are movie channels that DON'T break for commercial every six minutes and (12) we could RENT movies such as, oh, Signs for five cents through Netflix?

I had forgotten that that was a really scary movie, by the way. Holy cats. Sometimes that M. Night Shamalamadingdong gets it right. I learned to call him Shamalamadingdong from Howard Stern.

Oh by the way, hi. I am all over the place today.

But I wasn't TIRED yet, because I have been unemployed for three weeks now and the wild boar has taken over the domesticated pig and my night-owl self has totally returned, so there I was, looking through channels, and things were a LOT EASIER back when we had to stand up and physically turn the dial and all we got were channels 12, 5 and 25.

Maybe at your house you got three different channels. But you know what I mean. Once we started to have all this crap to look at is when this whole country fell apart and we all became porn addicts and got all our exercise off the TV.

So there was Tracy Anderson, whoever that is, and they'd corrected the SHIT out her face with makeup and lighting, which was irrelevant because they kept showing real women saying, "Three months ago I looked like June." Then they'd show a lumpy person. "Now I look like this!" And they'd show a person who looks like Tracy Anderson.

And that was all it took for me to spend $104 that I do not have, but at least I have all the time in the world to do the 79 workout DVDs that are coming, right? I'd ask you all to order the Tracy Morgan DVDs and do it with me, but remember when we all got on board with Jillian Michaels and her nostrils and I gave up after day three and you poor people who actually meant it were all, "Twenty-seven days! I feel great! ...anyone?"

So that was LAST night, when I was determined to not be fat anymore and to look like Hans Christian Andersen or whomever, and then today I had to take Edsel to the vet.

Even  though, as you can see, we were BURIED under a SEVERE STORM yesterday.

"#@@&$#."

That's my daffodil, there, swearing like a chilly sailor. I had 20 or 30 daffodils, and am getting mixed reports about whether they'll live.

Also swearing was Edsel, who was getting his rabies shot and his distemper because his temper had been dissed.

The vet said he looks good, and he's filled out this year, and "He's cute because he's so goofy-looking."

"#$@$@*&."

So on the way home, I was starving half to death, because it was 11:00 and I hadn't eaten yet and God forbid. I stopped at Krispy Kreme, and I realize I am the only person who likes or even GETS the bagels at Krispy Kreme, but I was all excited and guess what.

GUESS WHAT.

They don't serve bagels anymore. So I was FORCED to get a blueberry doughnut, which is an antioxidant, and I realize Tracy Chapman has her work cut out for her, with these DVDs, and she.better.work and yes, the onus is on her, not me.

Anyway, when said DVDs get here I will be sure to let you know how it goes. And by "it" I mean the part where said DVDs sit darkly under my TV in the cabinet.