I just got home from Michigan, and man, what a short, fun ride THAT is, but the good news is Ned and I still like each other. Which, you know. Twenty-six hours in the car with somebody, plus the whole meeting-the-family thing, it was touch and go. But we're still a go.
I put my memory card in just now, so allow me to just slap photos up here hither and yon so's you can see what you missed. I totally invited you. Why didn't you join us?
Look who is cute. Is it us? I like Ned. Also too, so did my family. At least that's what they told me. Maybe in reality they're all, "God, what a nightmare THAT guy was." But I doubt it. How can you not love you The Ned? Yes, I just totally called him The Ned.
Dude, I don't know what to tell you about my mom. Old Walk Like an Egyptian, there, is doing dishes with my stepfather and stepsister. Note the part where I recorded everything for posterity and did not help with the dishes.
It is my fault that my stepsister married her husband. They met at a Thanksgiving I had, then I forced them together when I saw sparks. They have been married 10 years now, though, so I am just saying. Go, June.
I blame Sue. Here is my saintly Aunt Sue, who looks hot, and when I told her, she said, "I AM hot," then fanned herself with her sweater. See above re: Saintly.
My mom's dog Gus, who is smiling as though he would NEVER attack puppy Tallulah. wut? guz bite ennosent pupee? you haff wrong dug.
Gus, moments later, after he has been struck down by God.
Ned, his purse, and gansta mom. I shudder to think about what conversation I walked in on, here. "Are you sleeping with my daughter, Ned? Boy oh boy. That's real rude."
I tried, God knows I did, to take Ned to the Pub, my local hang when I lived in Saginaw, but it was closed. Here he is, though, in the door, and if you look carefully you can see snow flying.
My not-at-all-gorgeous friend Gertrude at the Scottish ridiculous Inn. Would I LIE to you about the plaid carpeting on the walls? I would not. Clearly.
Here's my high school boyfriend Giovanni Leftwich with his so so so cool wife. Did I bond with Wife at all? Do I love her? Am I gonna snatch her away from Giovanni Leftwich? That'd be an interesting addendum to our history.
Me, ex-best-friend Esmerelda, and Gertrude. Whenever I am with them I feel like The Unfortunatel Friend. Why I gotta have hot friends while I have Kenny G hair?
HULLLLLK.
In the days since Ned and Hulk met, every once in awhile, some boring sports thing would come up and Ned'd say, "Hulk and I talked about that." Am so glad I could ignore them and let them play amongst themselves.
Here we are having breakfast before Ned and I hit the road again. Note mom has STAMPEDED to Christmas already, as she is pratically Mrs. Claus. Ned had eggs, toast, Canadian bacon, fruit, pie and apple crisp. Then two hours later we ate the little lunch mom packed for us. Ned is going to be big as a house. As opposed to old Mrs. Timbertoes, over here.
Does anyone even know who The Timbertoes are, or am I the only Highlights Magazine fan? I HATE those find-the-object-in-the-picture things. Can never do it. Also, Gallant is a puss.
Anyway. Mrs. Timbertoes. She is kind of a wooden Olive Oyl.
I am sorry to tell you that on the way out of town, Ned and I went, two days after Thanksgiving, to The World's Largest Christmas Store, which conveniently is located outside my home town. Guess what was deserted and void of all people? Anyway if I ever get married again my dress is selected. Look how happy she is.
The World's Largest Christmas Store has SIXTEEN different sections with their own themes, including, apparently, Sexual Santa.
Honest engine. The look of sheer agony on Ned's face sends me into hysterics every time I look at this photo. Look at him. Portrait of Misery.
But he will be the FIRST TO TELL YOU, I found what I needed very fast, and said, "Okay, we can go," and IT WAS NED who said, "No, wait. Maybe I can find something for this relative. Or that relative. Oh, you know what? Also this relative." It was NED who kept us there. Swear!
Did not threaten him with glittery rendeer up his nethers to make him stay there at all. AT ALL!
Here's the lobby of the swank hotel we stayed in both on our way to and also from Michigan. Oh, we enjoyed that place.
In the restaurant, over by the bar, was this painting, and I wish I could tell you how much I obsessed over this terrible work of art. Have threatened Ned that this will be his Christmas present. "She kind of looks like you," he said, right before I finally stuck those glittery antlers in his parts.
Really, what sad lonely man painted this? "Hellooooo. My droopy breasts and I love you. Get me another Reunite on Ice."
I'm sorry to tell you that's all I have when it comes to photos of my trip. I know you're sad. Oh! But both on the way there and back, we passed Southern "X" Posure, which is apparently some kind of titty bar, which I'd have totally gone to, except I cannot frequent a place that has an "X" like that in its title. I told Ned I was going to demand that you all use "X" in your comments today.
"X"cellent post, June.
Glad you saw your "X" best friend.
Okay, go.
"X"O, June
