It's 12:25 as I sit down to write this, and my plans today are (were) to garden a bit more, and pay some bills, do my yoga DVD because after a week of Tracy Anderson I feel tight as Camilla Parker Bowles' lips whenever Goodbye England's Rose is played, but what I decided to do first was come over here and get more of your damn pictures on here.
About a month ago, I stupidly said to y'all, "Hey! Why doesn't everyone send me their photo, so's I can see what YOU look like since you're always stuck looking at me." And everyone who didn't unfriend me for saying "so's" sent me their picture. Everyone and their half brother. Everyone and Camilla Parker Bowles.
Ned will be here at 5:00 to see a movie, and how much do you want to bet I will still be sitting here putting in your photos?
So let's begin.
L. in CA! Oh mygod, she's posted a MILLION comments over the year. No, literally. Sending her the gold watch. Right after I send whoever I owe those Abraham Lincoln Band-Aids.
By the way, one faithful reader BOUGHT ME the Abe Lincoln Band-Aids for Christmas, and she was all, "Now you can finally send that poor reader her band-aids." Guess what I still haven't done?
We totally need Piehard coffee mugs.
Someday I will be sued by the Christmas sweater people. They will storm over here in their reindeer vests and give me what-for.
Jeanie practically committed hari-kari getting her pics to me. She was all, "If you can see these, I'm on the left. If you can't, I give up." Totally felt her crankiness through the Internet, and I FEEL YOU, Jeanie. Hate stupid computer issues. It's always the computer's fault, too.
I should totally be a songwriter.
Seriously, it's like I'm Cole Porter or something. Only cooler. I'm Cool Porter.
"This is me, Chelsea in Texas. I'm kind of a lurker....but occasionally post when I'm feeling particularly witty. Or passionate. Or passionately witty. Which is not right now....because I'm eating nachos."
And that is when I loved her.
I sort of know Davida. She and I dated the same person. Not at the same time. Anyway, then she started reading my blog and now she and I are in love. Well. Maybe she doesn't love me at all. Maybe it's one-sided and that's why she never thanks me for the flowers I send daily.
B S says the most flattering pic of her is one where she's behind the camera. Here, however, are her doggie-doo-snickerdoodles. That was me saying that. I think someone who owns no-nonsense dogs such as these probably never says "doggie-doo-snickerdoodles." Look, they heard me. Now they're gonna kick my ass.
Speaking of which, it's now 1:19 and my ass has grown numb. Let's continue.
Steph in Fla says she's commented a few times, but doesn't it seem like she's a more of a regular commentor? Doesn't her name sound familiar? Anyway, what matters is, she has really good skin. Whereas I'm Cole PORE-ter.
Terri R lives in Florida and says she loves my blog. Now, see, if I lived in Florida all I'd ever do is stand around in front of Barry Gibb's house. I guess she could do that and look at my blog on her tablet or other highfalutin' device. June's blog. To be read while you stalk formerly famous people.
Sherry from Texas, who I guess has a menu in front of her, but for the longest time it just looked like an internal organ to me. Because there is something deeply wrong with me. Hey, it's 1:47 and here I still am. Could that be part of the problem?
Just got more coffee, and the rest of the coconut cream cheese cake from the dessert place we went to last night. Which I was excited to tell you about, but nooooo. June had to finish this project.
And you KNOW I'll get a comment, "My picture never made it on here." With a frowny face. YOU KNOW IT WILL HAPPEN.
Dear person who does this: Look in your sent mail January 8, 9 or 10. If what you sent me was NOT titled "blog photo," you do not get to send me frowny face. You can send me a vagicon. Remember in the comments when we started sending each other female anatomy emoticons? Why did we do that? What is wrong with us? Have I mentioned my behind-end parts are numb?
Let's press on.
Would marry self all over again. Commisioned a The Blogger statue of self. To go in The Cole Porter Museum.
ASHLEY wrote that her son is cuter than her, then wrote that she was waiting for me to protest in 3,2,1... and I see that I never replied. NICE! Nice, June. ASHLEY, you and all your caps are adorable.
Here's Miffy and her little dog, too, whose name is Frankie. This reminds me of one of Tallulah's Facebook updates, where she'd sort of bullied a schnauzer at the dog park. He'd been sort of scared of Talu, and she said, "You gots a beard. Be a man."
Tallulah is hilarious. She's on FB under Tallulah Gardens if you haven't friended her. Also, I have no idea if that dog is a schnauzer up there. I just saw "beard" and thought of Talu. Also Kelly Preston.
Oh, but let's continue. Because am not ready to tie noose at this point.
Jessica, in the purple and black, sent a very nice note saying she reads me every day, starting in 2007 when she was on bed rest for her pregnancy. "It was the most boring three months of my life," she said. June's blog. For when you're painfully, nauseatingly bored.
Megan V. said about this photo: "I'm pregnant with our first kiddo and in the picture, you see me with my husband, Bryan (on the right) and his father (on the left) with a ninja mask going around our belly to represent Shepherd. It doesn't fully make sense which is just our style."
I think I would like her.
We are nowhere NEAR done, but Ima do just five more because IT's 2:30, people, and I have turned to stone, over here. At least my arse has.
Cyndi said she doesn't like to comment because she's not as witty as the other commenters. People tell me this all the time, and I wish you'd comment even if you're dull as mud. I said years ago that if you can't think of anything to say, "Lovely post, June" will suffice. It's just nice to hear from you, whether you're Shekky Greene or not. I have no idea if that's how you spell Shekky Greene, but no longer care because NUMB ARSE OH MY GOD.
Also, Megan is pretty. Has everyone noted that? You know what makes you pretty? Not doing yoga, but instead eating coconut cake and sitting endlessly at your computer. THAT makes you pretty.
Last one today. Have turned into Sylvia Plath, over here.
I know this is teensy, but this is how it came to me. Elsie says, "This photo is five years old, and I've aged considerably, I think. Recent photos don't resemble my self-image the least little bit. After this photo was taken I retired from teaching middle school, cared for my parents who have both since died, and have gained weight, wrinkles, and grey hair. I resemble what you feared in your 07 Jan 13 blog post."
I can't remember what I said in my January 7 post, but Elsie killed me with this. "Here's a picture of me. I look like shit now." Elsie, honey, I refuse to believe that. I'm sure you are cute as a button. Also there is no way you are more depressed than I am after sitting here for 17 hours.
THERE ARE MORE PHOTOS LEFT, y'all. So stay tuned for a different day, when, like childbirth, I forget the pain of this project.