Last night I had dinner with my friend and coworker The Poet. We've been TRYING to go to tea together, but clearly God is over us and our tea plans. First, we picked Proximity, which is a fancy hotel near me--and how ironic would it be if a place called Proximity were far away from me--but they only serve tea until 5:00, and we, you know, work. Apparently they only cater to ladies who tea.
Then I suggested this place called The Secret Tea Room, where The Other June and I went and had crab cakes, thereby eating our astrological sign. Yes, I realize I say that every time I have crab. It's my big line. Sue me. Crack my shell and put butter on me. I guess that's more lobster, isn't it? Point is, Effing Secret Tea Room. Closed on Monday.
"GodDAMMIT," I said, glaring at my computer. "You want to just go to the fancy dessert place instead?" So we agreed to do that. Then when work was over and we were finally ready, we decided we wanted actual dinner and that's the end of that story.
How come you can be a crab but not a lobster as your astrological sign? I guess there were no constellations that looked like a lobster. Although if you ask me whoever made up what the constellations looked like was totally making shit up, like the dad from Calvin and Hobbes. "See there? That's an archer." Okay, high-on. I see a star here and three little spots over yonder. If that's an archer to you, go on wit' yer bad self.
Anyway, that was pretty much the highlight of yesterday. Having dinner with The Poet. I like The Poet. When they first sat me next to her at work I was worried she'd be all deep and only speak in poems or something. There's nothing worse than putting me next to a deep person. The juxtaposition is so, you know, jarring. But it was fine. She keeps her deep on the downlow when she's around me.
I just went into my photos on my computer to see if I took other photos of The Poet (answer: no) (and she really is a poet. Like, she's all published and stuff. And she tours around reading her poems and so forth) (maybe one day she'll be famous and I'll be a footnote in her biography. "Inexplicably, The Poet hung around shallow blogger June Gardens. Occasionally they tried to get tea.").
At any rate, I found this picture I somehow managed to take of my phone lockscreen, and by the way can anyone tell me how I did this? But I'm glad, because I have as my lock screen that terrible painting from the hotel we stayed at in West Virginia.
Am obsessed with that awful painting. And every once in awhile Ned says, "She kind of looks like you," which just makes me mad.
Now am interested in what's here in my photos that I haven't shown you.
I never did show you a photo of the chocolate-chip cookies I made for Ned for Valentine's Day. I mean, I actually made them. I did not just cut cookies off a tube. In fact, I was AT the store, buying foreign things like "flour" and "baking soda," and I saw the dang tubes in the frozen-food aisle, and I was all, Why didn't I just do that? But I wanted to make an effort, because Ned is nice to me.
You can see I had a lot of duds in this batch, but I took all the bad ones to work and people descended on them like jackals. If I had left a dead antelope out, I mean. I don't know that jackals would descend on cookies. I don't know if my fake coworkers WOULDN'T descend on an antelope, either. I've seen them eat mayonnaise-based sandwiches that have been sitting out all day.
Here's Tallulah trying to stare intently at me while I eat something but falling asleep in the meantime. Girlfriend would never catch her a jackal. She enjoys the nap too much. You should see how she is when I come home at lunch. Edsel is always at the door, striking up the band and dropping the ticker tape, while five minutes after I'm in the door Talu clicks down the hall with pillow marks creasing her face. "o. yu heer? it noons alreddy? talu just...tydee up in bedrum."
Who even knows what pertinent fact Ned is relaying?
Me at work with my Hot Royals calendar. Every month they show a new prince and give you his status. Is he dating someone special? Single? Into 47-year-olds? They tell you everything.
I guess those are all the faintly interesting photos I have in my computer. Currently I have 5,474 photos on said computer, and that's not even counting the 10839294 you've sent me of yourselves that I haven't put up yet. Remember when we just had photo albums and took 12 pictures at a time or whatever? Yeah.
Talk at you tomorrow. Oh! And in case anyone was worried sick and didn't read the comments, and I love it when the answer is in the comments but you ask anyway, the official name for Ned's movie reviews is Nedflix, thanks to witty Faithful Reader Letha. We are going to another movie Wednesday, Ned and me, not Letha and me, so there could be a Nedflix coming your way soon. Wooo!
