I have many plans today, including going to the grocery store for toothpaste because currently I need the strength of 10 men to attempt to squeeze out the dregs of my current tube, but so far all I've done is some laundry and I watched An American in Paris. Oh, and I ate pretty much half the box of Whitman's Samplers Ned gave me for Valentine's Day.
Today. A day that matters in the grand scheme of things so far.
Ned not only got me a large box of candy, because life is like a box of chocolates, and HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAA! no one ever makes that joke, but he also sent me flowers at work AND he got me a Nora Ephron book I had not yet read. The first person to call him a "keeper" gets chocolate cordials thrown up on them.
"They called you a keeper again," I always tell him, whenever any of you guys do, which is all the time. He always seems kind of pleased, but I also think he KNOWS he falls under the category of Good Boyfriend. Good Middle-Aged Manfriend. You can't be as good to your woman as Ned and, you know, not know. Anyway, I have no plans to not keep him for quite a stretch, if I can help it.
"Hi. I'd like to return this boyfriend? He didn't fuss enough over me for Valentine's Day."
We got up with my friend Jo on V-Day, because what's more romantic than that? And no, Ned did not get any girl-on-girl action out the deal. Sorry, Ned. I am so not a keeper. Anyway. Jo was having her monthly BookUp, and I love going to BookUp, so we did despite the Very Important Holiday.
And it's a good thing we did, because she had a whole V-Day gift bag extravaganza for me, and who loves being fussed over? Is it me, over here?
SHE GOT ME PINK BEACH!! I had completely used up my tube, and in case you're just tuning in to this riveting blog, last spring I put a picture of Jo up here, and 9939848372 of you wrote, "What's that lipstick Jo has on?" and then we all screamed out and had a run on Pink Beach.
The BookUp was at a coffee shop, and here were our tip jar options. I mean, make it a little TOUGHER, dudes. I was torn. Eventually I picked Led Zeppelin, because I'm from Saginaw and you can't take the Saginaw out of me. However, I did end up conceding that I'd rather hang out with Freddy Mercury than Jimmy Page. I want to hang out with Jimmy Page I just gotta look in the mirror at that hair.
Following that, Valentine's Day was none yo' bidness. Oh, but as Jo mentioned my unmentionables to all y'all all in the comments, I did have on a rhinestone bra, which I got special for the holiday, and I like how I keep calling it "the holiday" so as not to offend Jews or pagans. Anyway, you go all out and get a pink rhinestone bra, you need to unbutton your sweater in the coffee shop and show it to your friend. And your ...friend. See what I did, there?
Yesterday I visited my old pal Charlie, who in case you are just tuning in AGAIN, and will you stop tuning in and out? COMING INNNNN AND OUT OF YOUR LIFE ISN'T EASYYYYYY...
That is a horrific song. In fact, it is SO horrific that I refuse to YouTube it on here. I think I officially have a No Barbra Stresisand rule on this blog, as of now.
OHMYGOD ANYWAY. If you just got here, my friend Charlie is in his 20s and the funnest person EVER, and this past summer he slipped on a goddamn LOG and is now paralyzed. It sucks. Is what it does. And this week he was back in the hospital with some infections and stuff, so yesterday I drove to see him in Winston-Salem. His door was shut and a nurse person came out. I mean, I guess she was a nurse. No one wears white hats and nylons anymore like Jesse did on General Hospital.
"I'm here to see Charlie," I told her. "Is it okay if I come in?" "We're in the middle of something but hang on. Whom shall I say is here?" "June," I said.
A minute later she came back. "June Gardens?" "Yes." "Oh, he really wants to see you. Hang on."
"Tell him I have on a sparkly bra," I told her. Yes, I wore it to work the next day. You can't TELL it's sparkly. And it lifts the girls. Support can be beautiful.
"NOW I REALLY REALLY WANT TO SEE YOU!" I heard him shout.
Eventually I got in there and we had a nice visit, and I may or may not have shown him a rhinestone or two. I never said I wasn't a giant tramp. With an understanding Middle-Aged Manfriend.
So that sums everything up. I seriously have 700 things to do now. I have to sweep the pet-covered floors, get the toothpaste before I start becoming an extra from Deliverance, do some work I brought home, finish the laundry and do my Tracy Quartermaine workout, because hello, Whitman Sampler hips.
Hope all is well with all y'all all, and since you're up, can you tell me why they even MAKE chocolate-covered cherries? Blech. Dear Whitman and your sampler: More cashew crunches. Fewer cherries. I'll show you my bra if you listen. Love, June.