Lemme ask you something.
I'm not trying to say, Oh, what a raving beauty I am now, but godDAMMIT. I looked awful! I am sorry to tell you that I was sitting here looking at pictures of myself from my webcam and made this discovery yesterday. Could I be more all up in myself?
Let's all talk about me in my blog about me. Whatever with myself.
So how was everyone's weekend? I didn't feel well Friday so I didn't do anything, but on Saturday I got my eyes examined and went around all afternoon looking like I was on amphetamines, if people's pupils dilate when they're on amphetamines. I don't actually know. In case you're worried sick, my prescription is the same, which means I don't need new glasses. I've had the same glasses since 2011, when I looked bad, and I tried on a bunch of frames and made all y'all all decide which ones.
After I found out yep, still blind, Ned and I went to the bookstore, both saying we weren't gonna buy anything and both buying something. We have 9495949393 books between us to take to the beach this week. Then we went to the shoe store because Ned said he wanted to get shoes, and he didn't get any shoes and I did.
The first person to mention my plantar fasciitis gets slapped with my inflamed tissue.
Ned was over looking at boy shoes, so I limped over to him with one of these on. "Are these cute, or are they 'Gramma called and wants her shoes back'?" I asked him. He assured me they were good, but when I limped back to the other shoe, there was a cool-looking woman of color there. Maybe this is oddly racist, but I always assume black women are cooler than me. "Do you like these shoes, or do they look like gramma called and wants her shoes back?" I asked her, clearly in love with my example.
She studied them a minute. She was wearing a bright orange top with sparkles on it that I just made sound like circus crazy, but was really very becoming. "I like the funky '70s vibe," she said.
"Right?" We nodded at each other for awhile in shoe solidarity. And today I have to come up with a whole ensemble so I can wear them.
Ned later told me the reason he didn't get any shoes was because he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror at the shoe store. "I look great," he thought, "I don't need any shoes."
And that there is the difference between men and women.
We went to dinner at the salmon salad place, and today we're going to see a movie about backup singers. It's a documentary. Yes, Marvin WOULD have dragged me to a movie like that, and I kind of feel like when Woody Allen catches Diane Keaton at The Sorrow and the Pity after they've broken up.
I would have made a terrible backup singer. I would have been constantly trying to get everyone to notice me, back there. I do, however, still wish I had Pips to repeat everything I say
(everything she says)
as though it's important
(it's important what she says. Woo-woo!).
I must go, as I am either going to get a pedicure or do my workout. I can't decide which. Wait. There's a dime here. Heads, work out. Tails? Pedicure. Here we go.
June, out. Of breath soon.