I didn't blog yesterday because I wasn't in the mood. Oh, but here are two family pictures I didn't include in my last impressive post. The reason I missed them in my email is because they didn't include the words "photo" "picture" or "family" when they were sent to me.
Dudes, I wasn't gonna literally go through hundreds of emails all afternoon. I'm a busy executive.
Here is some full-skirted member of Faithful Reader and Sender of Books Deb's family (I can hear both Ned and Marvin going berserk about the cars). I have read all the books Deb mailed me less than a month ago and started in on the tome she sent next (The Outlanders or The Outliers or something. What is it called, Deb?).
And PJ wants us to know she's "the skinny bitch" on the left, in back. I told her I liked the rebel girl who wore blue instead of pink that day.
So that sums up my family portrait special here on Bye Bye Pie. And for those in the comments who said, "I missed it! Let's do this again!"? Am sending you my shorts. Here, eat them.
Anyway, last night I got up with Ned to see Blue Velvet at the old movie theater here.
This was the last film they're showing for their summer series at the old theater. Now we have to wait till September for anything new. We saw a ton of things there, though. Summer. An excellent time to sit in a dark theater.
Ned and I always meet in front of the theater, because he is screaming home from work right then (yesterday he ate a raw portobello mushroom and ran over to the movie. Mmm!), then after we go to a pub followed by making out in my car in the theater parking lot.
Since I was sitting on the wall waiting for him last night, I naturally took photos of myself. June + June. TLA.
In case you were worried sick (but what did June do with her bad self on WEDNESDAY night!?!?!), I got up with Dick Whitman for dinner night before last. I know! My life is riveting.
Oh. Before I go stampeding to My Dinner With Whit, Ned hates having his picture taken, and I have taken 394994 photos of him with my phone because he is cute as a button. Sadly, and don't tell him I said this, I have a folder on my desktop with all the pictures I have ever taken of him, and sometimes I click through them and sigh.
I know.
Anyway, last night he refused to smile and/or look happy, so I am putting his cranky blurry photo up AS WARNING to him. If he's going to make a face, then a face is going on my blog.
Ned doesn't read this blog. But some of his relatives and his best friend do. Dear Ned's Relatives and Best Friend: Please alert him to my evil re this matter. Thank you for your prompt attention to this issue.
Oh, and when we were at that pub last night? Ned said, "Is that Area man?" Of couse I turned to look, and it was SO NOT Area man. "You know that's not him," I said. "I know. I just wanted to see how fast you'd turn around. That was kind of amazing, actually."
Ned is annoying.
Dick Whitman had angst the other night, and I would tell you why but he didn't tell me I could tell you, and also, am I just gonna put up nice pictures of me and bad pictures of my men today? Yes. I think I am.
I had done my Dick Tracy workout that day, then got in the car (well. I SHOWERED) and headed to Whitman's. By the time we got to the restaurant I could easily have roasted up DW himself and eaten him with a little gravy. Good lord, I was hungry. Above please find my lamb, Clarice, on top of creamed corn and spinach or something. I do not recall as it was gone in 60 seconds.
Then I proceded to eat Dick W's oysters. So to speak.
Dick Whitman suggested we "go get coffee" after, and when he said, "coffee" apparently I heard "vanilla pudding."
Really, June. Eat something. I mean, I didn't work out for eight hours. I promise you the calories exceeded the burn-off by like 6,000.
We walked back to the car, though, so I was back even on calories again.
Finally, I leave you with a most disturbing story.
The other day I went alone to that new Meryl Streep movie, the one where she's trying to save her marriage and I have no idea why that movie would appeal to me. What do you mean? At one point, she gets a book called Sex Tips for Straight Women from a Gay Man.
"Does that book really exist?" I wondered.
Then today I remembered it, and I am sorry to tell you I was texting with everyone's favorite gay man, Hulk, while I ordered the book online. I got an email. "You Amazon order is confirmed!" it read. "Your book, Sex Tips from a Gay Man, will shop to: June's Mom. 4909 Shame Street. Regret, Michigan."
I SENT THE BOOK TO MY MOTHER!
You can imagine my, you know, panic. Heyyy! Happy....late Mother's Day! You're welcome, Stepdad! This is all NOT CREEPY AT ALL!
Fortunately I was able to, you know, STAMPEDE TO AMAZON and get the shipping rerouted.
My dad will really enjoy the book.
