I mentioned this in the comments yesterday, but here is another Purple Clover article I wrote, about what jerk I am. "Oh, wow, June! We had no idea you were an asshole! Let's stampede over!"
Yesterday was a ridiculous day, what with that article coming out and me feeling like I had to tout it on every facet of social media ever invented, and then ANOTHER article was due yesterday. I culled from an old post I wrote about Freddie Mercury years ago. Ya got blood on your face. Ya big disgrace.
Also too, I'm the editor of the newsletter at work, and it's a whole giant building of editor/designer types, so you can imagine how there's no pressure to get that thing perfect or anything. It was supposed to be distributed yesterday and we ran into every single problem humanly possible. The whole thing printed out in German. All the photos were accidentally nudes. I didn't mean to, but somehow wrote the F word in every paragraph. Or, people didn't meet their deadlines and I am new to this and didn't know to yell and scream and be a jerk. See paragraph one. You'd think it'd come naturally.
THEN, if that weren't enough, I had a conference call that lasted from 4:00 till 5:00, when I was desperately trying to get that newsletter out, and here's a work tip for you.
WORK TIPS FROM JUNE
When calling in to an hour-long conference call, be sure to pee first.
Holy CATS did I ever have to shake the dew off the lily. And I could not. What was I gonna do, put the phone down? That'd be right when someone said, "And what do YOU think, June?"
So that was unstressful. That day was. Indeed. And it'll be a miracle if that newsletter gets out TODAY, even. I am so getting fired from newslettering.
Today is going to be a social day, as I am having lunch with my ex-husband Marvin, allegedly. He has said we were going to have lunch two other times in the past week or so and has canceled both times, so. I haven't even told the dogs because they'll get all excited and I don't want their hopes dashed. Edsel would hire a professional photographer to capture the moment if he knew. I never should have given that dog my credit card.
And after My Lunch With Failure, in the evening, Ned and I are going to my friend The Other June's house to have dinner. She asked me if there was anything we wouldn't eat, and I said if it's food, Ned will eat it, but don't give me any cilantro, shrimp, grapefruit, cucumbers, mayonnaise or red peppers.
See paragraph one.
Oh, or green peppers, either. Peppers in general can go fuck themselves.
The Other June has been engaged to the fabulous Ray for as long as I have known her, and wouldn't it be awkward right now if I said, "We've known each other since we were four. The Other June is in an arranged engagement." In fact, I've known her since 2009 and I don't know what's taking them so long but I don't care. One less wedding gift I have to buy.
There IS a wedding I am dying to go to this year. My ex-boyfriend Marque is getting married in Montana, and I am dying to go. I keep checking my ASS for additional funds, but I keep coming up empty.
I dated Marque in the late '80s/early '90s on and off. It was never serious, as we had little in common. But we always had a lot of fun. I met him when he was standing in the hall of my college, juggling and reciting Kubla Khan at the same time. Right then I knew.
He was born with the name Mark and changed it to Marc and I just thought that was so pretentious that I spell it Marque to be an ass. See paragraph one. He's one of those people who just loves him the nature, and is forever going on days-long hikes and getting all deep out there and smiling at snakes, and I don't think I've canoed with any other boyfriends as much as I ever canoed with him. Many moons in same canoe. Blessum you.
I am sorry to tell you that's a Precious Moments anniversary figurine, the "Many moons" thing, and the whole world is sad.
My point is, after we broke up, somehow Marque became the toast of my home town. He wrote a few books. He was active in the swinging Saginaw art scene. And he slept with everyone there. Seriously. Do you have relatives in Saginaw, Michigan? Guess who they've tapped?
I took my high school friend David back once, when David and I both lived in LA. We got coffee with Marque, and could not get out three sentences at a time because one young hot girl after another would come up. "Hi, Marque." It was obscene. Plus, I wanted to yell, "I DISCOVERED HIM!"
After coffee, David and I were driving away, and he said, "What's your friend's book called, again? Something nature-ish. Wind in My Shoe or whatever? You know what his next book is? Plunging Debbie."
Through the nosiness of Facebook, I have seen Marque pose with inappropriate young girl after inappropriate young girl in Montana, where he now lives. And then? In the last year or so? He's been with someone his age! OUR age! And she is absolutely fall-over-dead hot. She has one of those yoga bodies that I'm never gonna have, and I am just thinking she is not as close with her Chinese delivery guy as I am. Oh, she's hot. And you can tell she's all nature-y and so on.
AND NOW THEY'RE GETTING MARRIED! I can't even stand it. Seriously, am so happy for Marque I could spit. So we'll see. If I get just one good large statistics book to edit I can go. Everybody go up your demand for statistics.
Crap, I have talked forever and now I have to rush and my lunch with Marvin will feature my bad hair. Which will be a thing he's never experienced before.
Puffy June, out.