Emails with Hulk:
Hulk: You are the best chick I know, that I never banged.
June: Well. THANKS, Hulk.
Hulk: Hey--that’s no small club. There are literally THOUSANDS of chicks that I never banged…
Phone call with Ned:
Ned: How was your day?
June: Not to put too fine a point on it, but I just got back from getting a wax. Not to WAX ON. BAH!
Ned (desperately hoping I shut up): Oh. Wow. Yeah. So --
June: I mean, that's a LOT OF WORK, getting a wax. You have no idea. And everything's gone! Everything! The whole kit and kaboodle, down there! I wish I could put a photo of it on Facebook, tag my mom or something.
Ned: Why don't you?
June: Even I'm not that shameless. Oh, crap, the dogs want out. I gotta get up and Slim Chipley over there and let 'em out.
June: Slim Chipley was the mascot for some potato chips that were local, and he dressed like a little potato chip cowboy, as you do. He had guns on his chip hips. Anyway he sauntered around with his legs way out, as I am sexily doing now.
Ned: A potato chip cowboy. So, you think he could kick Mr. Peanut's ass, probably? I mean, he was armed, so.
Texts with my Pal from MA:
Pal: My mom just told me the exciting news about your column that you're writing! That is fantastic!
June: Oh, thanks! Yeah, it's exciting. Am famous. Am Oprah. You can totally be my Gayle.
Pal: I'd be honored to be your Gayle!
June: Wait. Would Hulk be our Steadman, or would Ned. I guess Ned. He can be Nedman.
Pal: We can have a magazine with your picture on it every month, called J. We can write articles about poop. (Pal and I were amused by poop jokes when we were three, and we just haven't changed. Is the thing. It's a classic. Poop jokes are the Chanel of jokes.)
June: We can name it Opoorah!
Pal: I'm at the park, and I just saw SEVEN BABY GOPHERS!!!
June: I WANT SEVEN BABY GOPHERS! You can name them Gopher, Julie, Captain Stubin, Issac, Dr. Adam. What was the captain's annoying daughter's name?
Pal: Shhh. Am on gopher watch now. Am standing very still and they are getting closer.
June: SQUEEEEE! I LOVE YOU, BABY GOPHERSSES!!!
Pal: I love that you're hard at work, over there, writing a successful blog and column, you have a great guy and I'm at the park watching gophers.
June: Yeah. But you're six weeks older, so.
(When we were kids, from her birthday May 30 to MY birthday July 16, Pal from MA LORDED her advanced age over me. She was such a twat. "You know, I really want to play with my new puzzle, but it's for kids five and over. Guess you'll have to go home."
"I thought I'd play with Stacy this afternoon. She's five, too, and we have so much in common."
"You know that cute boy in daycare you liked? I slept with him. He said he was really into women who're at least five."
So she still has THAT over me.)
Email with Hulk:
June: I've been watching a lot of baseball, I am sorry to announce, and I see no reason that anyone has to spit that often. No one has to spit that much. I go ALL DAY and it never happens.
Hulk: No one needs 32949492949493923 pictures of the same damn dog, either. The world is full of wretched excess.