In case anyone was worried sick and pacing the floors and writing his or her congressman demanding answers, I did not get the glasses. This is not to say I won't go BACK there, because they give you the whole shebang--frames, the glass, protective coating, an eyelid lift, a jar of olives, now I'm just making stuff up, for $125!
$125! Perhaps you don't buy eyeglasses, but I do, and that's cheap. Of course, there's the part where I don't actually NEED new glasses--I got my last pair two years ago and my prescription hasn't changed. So yeah.
Other than that, I went around living my life all weekend. How about you? Did you live your life or were you in suspended animation? Sometimes that's relaxing, too.
On Friday night, Ned and I went to the First Friday festivities, and I will try to cram as many "f" words into this sentence as fossible. Other than the exciting eyeglass store, we went to some girl stores where I'm sure Ned was riveted, and we popped in to my friend Kit's store, too. In fact, when I GOT to Ned's I had forgotten my DING-DANG PHONE, and there is no way into the Fort Knox nor the gelatin that is Ned's place. There was a man on his balcony, which is at ground level so unless you're some underworld spy or the wife of a close friend I guess in no way would you describe that thing as a "balcony." Say, what did I major in, again? Was it the English? Cause, good job, June. Articulate.
DECK. He was on his DECK, though it was surrounded by a brick wall which made me think "balcony" and oh, who cares. I THOUGHT of asking if he'd call Ned for me to come let me in, but Ned's home number has a different area code and don't even ask, so I didn't want to be all, "Hey, stranger on a balcony on the ground. Can you call long distance for me? Also, I have money frozen in Tibet and if you just give me $50,000..."
Ned has a BUTTON at the front of his BUILDING that you can push, and guess what? That goes to his cell which he's never ever got the ringer on for and he never uses, so what I'm saying to you is my mood was sparkling. I STOMPED in my HEELS over to Kit's store and in front of 39494020203 customers I bellowed CANIUSEYOURPHONEOHMYGODNED.
So she let me, and that sums that story up. I know you're sad it's over.
Oh, and we also popped into the midcentury modern store and saw the guy. That's all Ima say about that.
At some point in the evening, I guess when we were eating and Ned got lamb and I felt like I had to mention that due to its oddness, we got onto the subject of insults. We talked about what would be the worst thing someone could say about us, and I said if someone said I'm not funny (as a commenter did the other day), it wouldn't really bother me that much, because I feel like most people DO think I'm funny. If someone said that I wasn't smart, I would also feel pretty confident they were wrong.
"Now, hideous," I said. I might get upset at "hideous." There's a small part of me that'd think, 'Oh, that's true.'"
Ned thought this over as he speared and chewed innocent lambs. Clarice. "I think the worst thing anyone could say about me is that I'm pretentious," he said.
And see. Here is where I have no filter. Here is where the whole room's gonna go, JUNE! You did NOT! Because before I could stop myself, I said, "Well, you are a little hoity-toity."
See. I just meant he likes fancy movies and listens to the NPR instead of doing the normal thing and enjoying Howard Stern and stuff like that. But guess who was annoyed with me all weekend? And I didn't even SAY pretentious because to me, pretentious means you're putting on airs, you're being someone you aren't. I am pretentious. Ned is just hoity-toity.
Anyway, I had to deal with THAT all weekend. "Oh, I'm so HOITY-TOITY. Maybe if you weren't dating someone so HOITY-TOITY...." Good gravy. Even God was over Ned. I didn't say he was Niles Crane, for goodness sake.
The rest of the weekend involved going to the farmers market for processed food (oh, I got some DELICIOUS cheese), me doing work I brought home (I'm like Don Draper without the nice apartment), Ned signing a bill with a flower pen:
Okay, you can't even TELL there's a flower there, because he's you know, writing and it's moving around. Just trust me. And yes, that's a salad Ned finished, I think it had beets in it. It's not lamb entrails. And then that empty thing contained fries that we split. God, they were delicious.
Yesterday instead of a movie, I made Ned do errands with me and I am certain he was delighted. Like, he had to lug five huge bags of mulch into his car, and mulch got everywhere, and who doesn't want to date me? Am serious delight. Anyway, he had been planning to Nedflix whatever we saw yesterday and I do not know if he will Nedflix those empty hours of doing things for me but I told him that would be funny. He could review the whole miserable afteroon! He could name it Mulch Ado About Nothing. The thing writes itself.
Am showering now. I mean, not as I type but in a minute. Don't forget to tell me what you say about the worst insult that could be hurled at you. It must mean something, right?, whatever it is that would insult us the most.
Hoity and toityingly,