You'd think I'd be more sensitive to the famous, now that I've been featured in a major local magazine and all, but no. Still ready to poke fun at the starts. Still Juney from the block. That's funny every time.
I just got back from the world's hardest beginner's yoga class, and wish to eat everything in sight, and when I got home and opened the refridge, as Ned would say, HALF his Russell Stover coconut cream egg was there, still. HALF.
Dear Ned, You're out of coconut cream eggs. Love, June.
Anyway, I know I filled you in on my Saturday day, and what else could you ask for, but I forgot to tell you I did a full horrible hour of my Hans Tracy Anderson video Friday evening, with my new friend Slutty Pancakes.
Look how cute. I work with her, but she's in a different department. I've always been able to tell she is our people, but we never had a reason to talk. Then some yahoo told her about my blog and she started emailing me. "I'm reading the entire thing," she told me, and then would email me all upset about things that happened in 2009 that I've already forgotten about.
Anyway, we got to talking about our romantic histories, as girls do, and she's just gotten out of a very long relationship with some foreign guy. Suzy went and left us for some foreign guy. The point is, he's from somewhere I can't remember, because excellent listening skills, so let's say Serbia.
Then she mentioned another relationship with someone from Madagascar (or Cuba? God, who knows) and I was all, "Wow, you're pretty worldly with your relationships. Who are you, The International House of Slutty Pancakes?"
And a blog name was born.
And why is she so cute after a workout and I have penis nose? I hate my nose. You know it looks like a penis and I know you feel sorry for me. I suppose the fact that I'd just worked out had nothing to do with my nose's penisness. It'd be that way no matter what.
Anyway, we had a good time, me, Slutty Pancakes and my dick nose. So that was Friday.
Last night, one of the Alexes had a party, the same Alex who was all hot in her white dress some months back.
This time, she had a Mardi Gras theme. There was a lot of shrimp served, and I do not eat shrimp. Shrimp does not appeal to me, and people had to appeal their shrimp last night. Thank god there was also dirty rice and blackened chicken. Oh, and bananas foster, which I would marry were that legal. Holy cats.
Ryan was a total bitch about me photographing him last night. "I've whored myself out on your blog a hundred times," he said, all righteous. I mean, you can't be my friend if you aren't willing to whore yourself. What was he thinking? But anyway, I got all excited to show my coworker Spalex and her pregnant self along with her husband, and all of a sudden old Don't Steal My Soul With Your Camera got all friendly.
My coworker's name is (wait for it) Alex, but she works for the Spanish team, so to differentiate her we call her Spalex. She walked in and introduced herself as Spalex to people, which sort of killed me.
I was asked to bring my tarot cards and read everyone's fortune, which I did, and now everyone is mad at me that they aren't going to fall in love this week and also become millionaires. I mean, I am sorry. Shit occurs.
Ned is in the shower, angrily plunging our constantly clogged drain, and he seems to be insinuating that the hair in there is disgusting, and I'm not really 100% sure of what he's getting at. Once he's over it and clean, we are headed to Marty Martin's to watch the Academy Awards. I want to be a good party guest, but I will be looking here occasionally to see if any of you have terrible comments to make about anyone.
Oh, I know. We should do something new this year, and practice kindness, and only try to say positive things about Julia and Gwynneth and Angelina. Let's look for the good this year.