"I regret to inform you that I heard Total Eclipse of the Heart on the drive in, and every email I send you today will contain the lyrics to that song, Bright Eyes," I told Ned, who is only with me because I am so famous now.
"That's great," said Ned, who did I mention has a famous famous girlfriend with 36DDD hoots?
"Every now and then I get a little bit restless and I dream of something wild," I told him.
By about 2:00 p.m., when I'd told him love is like a shadow on me all of the time, and that I don't know what to do, I'm always in the dark, and that we'd been living like a powder keg and givin' off sparks, he wrote, "I've gone ahead and killed myself to put an end to your cover of this lovely song."
"I can't believe you killed yourself. I really need you tonight. Forever's gonna start tonight."
So apparently Ned is dead. Guess what Ima play at his funeral? On a continuous loop. I will miss him. Every now and then I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears.
And hey! Thanks, everybody, for going over to Purple Clover yesterday and reading my column and learning my real name and leaving comments there and everything. Both my parents emailed me to tell me there were other hippies in Michigan. Almost 48 years now they have known me, and I enjoy how they are still appalled that I embellish the story. I was TWO and embellishing the story. "This sippy cup had been empty for 11 days. I got tumbleweeds coming out my mouth, over here, folks."
They didn't have sippy cups when I was two, did they? That is sad. I probably had some kind of cup made from stone, like I'm Bam-Bam or something.
A coal sippy, like I'm the child of Abraham Lincoln.
The other day I watched Lassie Come Home, which I should never do because I cry like an idiot through that entire movie, and get resentful that neither of my dogs would traverse from Scotland to England just to reunite with my punk ass (well. Edsel would want to. But he'd never be able to follow the directions with his GPS. "edz do whut? whut, now? to tell edz again, Ant siri").
Anyway, the kid who'd lost Lassie was all sad because he'd lost a movie star dog and all, and it was his first day of school. His parents were downstairs all excited because they had a gift to cheer him. "New pencils!" said the dad. "We didn't have these when I was a child!"
How depressing does your childhood have to be that you're waxing on about pencils? No wonder Lassie left. She was probably ready to slash her paws, listening to that Pink Floyd Sylvia Plath downer of a man all the time. "When I was a child, we didn't have air! You're a lucky one, me laddie!"
Elizabeth Taylor is in that movie. You have never seen a more unnaturally beautiful child. Seriously, it's not even right, she's so pretty. Maybe Lassie left because Lassie is really a gay man, and he just wanted to go look at her and talk about her fabric choices and stuff.
Whenever I compose a post in Typepad, they always start suggesting related posts that are sometimes mine and sometimes other people's stuff. I have never understood what they want me to do with all that down there, but look how there's a picture of poor regular-dog Lu next to Lassie. Whatever, Lassie. With your fancy ruff and delicately lifted paw and so on. Lu go Pit on your fluff ass. But look! Look next to Lassie! There's INFLATABLE Lassie! Inflatable Lassie, y'all! GUESS WHAT I WANT NOW!!!
I clicked the link and the whole thing was about how hard-to-find inflatable Lassies are. Crap. At least now I have a goal. It's good to have goals, because every now and then I get a little bit terrified the best of all my years have gone by.
Every now and then I fall apart.
And if you'll only hold me tight.
We can never be wrong.
Okay, going now, before you beat me with your fancy pencil. June, out. June, totally eclipsed.