Did you miss me? Have you been holding a vigil? Did I ever tell you about when my friend Dot and I went to see Snow White? This was in college, when we were not at all full of ourselves or anything. This woman behind us had the nerve to bring her kids there, god, and she'd read to them the times they'd put up a little narrative screen that moved the plot along.
The point is, when Snow White has that bad acid trip or whatever and she's dead dead dead, they put up one of those screens about how the dwarfs kind of freakily could not face putting Snow White in the ground, so they set up a glass coffin and held "an eternal vigil."
"And the dwarfs held an eternal vyyyyy-gul," the poor mom behind us read to her kids.
Well. You've never seen two snotty college girls get over something less rapidly. To this day, Dottie and I still pronounce it vyyyyy-gul.
Anyway. I'm back from the beach, like I'm Annette Junecello or something,
On the day we were headed to said beach, Ned got in the shower, and when he emerged, I was talking to him for quite awhile before I looked at him, and
he'd shaved off his facial hair. "I wanted the sun on my whole face," he said, while I had seven strokes. Ned looks like he's 17 or something now. I wonder how he got it all off? Did he use my Nair for Faces? Because, pissed.
All in all it was a pretty mellow week. Just, you know, 20 of Ned's family members. Really, though, it was fun. I like Ned's people. They're always nice to me. If they hate my guts, I have no idea, which is how it should be.
Speaking of people who don't hate my guts and I'm glad, Marvin's parents sent me a birthday card, did I tell you that? They signed it XMIL and XFIL, as whenever I see my ex-mother-in-law on Facebook I always call her XMIL. There are still times when only my XMIL will do to talk to, like when there's particularly good celebrity gossip, or a new lipstick or something.
The thing about Ned's family is they have no fear. Ned's six-year-old niece, who is officially the world's most charming child®, was in the water and being fearless all week. At one point, we sat on the edge of the water and let the waves come at us. Of course, I was scared. "These are pretty big waves," I told her. "I think we can handle them, Uncle June," she said. She called me Uncle June. AND STOP BEING MORE BRAVE THAN ME YOU'RE SIX.
At some point, my mother called me. "This family is free of fear," I told her. "That's a good way to be," said mom.
"You're not in the sun, are you?" she asked. "You'll get cancer. And don't go in the water! You'll be eaten by a shark!"
There were many activities all week. I brought metallic tattoos, and made everyone put them on.
Ned's stepmother put one on her collarbone, because she's street. She is da bomb--she's the one who gave me that huge, pink and gold jingle corsage at Christmas, do you remember that thing? I have it all ready for this year.
Speaking of Christmas, I went with Ned's sister to the nearby Christmas store. Ned did not accompany us. There were a ton of sparkly reindeer that I desperately wanted to buy but did not. I am all up in the sparkly reindeer, man. Ned's sister is more like my mother, in that she is into traditional red and green. She does not decorate for Christmas like she is a gay man from 1978. Which, why?
My hair and I DID buy this sparkly little disk necklace, that goes under my T-for-Tallulah necklace that I wear all the time. Dudes, my hair was all over the place this week. Some days it was huge, some days it was angry. Some days it was huge and angry.
On the last night there, we had a spectacular thunderstorm, with huge bolts of lightning, and a rainbow, and several times the lightning would strike the middle of the rainbow. I'm sure that's symbolic somehow, but what do I know? I can't even pronounce "vigil" right anymore.
I managed to read one and a half trashy books, start and lose 14 cans of soda, see two shooting stars and sleep like the dead every night.
When I got home yesterday, I immediately went out and got a Sweet-Tart pedicure.
Ned unpacked and exercised and did practical things. Oh! And in the mail was a gift from Faithful Reader Paula H&B. She sent me TWO MORE Real Romance magazines, one from 1971 and one from 1980. I read them BOTH from COVER TO COVER and may or may not have made Ned listen to a few, and I'd even do different voices for the characters. You should hear my sexy, husky voice. Turned on? You don't even KNOW from turned on till you've heard my husky, sexy voice.
Ned may have also opened a beer during my dramatic readings. A beer or two. "Oh, let me read you this one, Ned!"
The whole point of this picture was to show you the animals survived, or at least two of them did, but what I noticed is my Real Romance magazines, one of which is open, and Ned's careful placing of the remotes on them, perhaps to discourage further reading. All I want to do now is read more of those magazines. Dear Paula H&B: Ned wonders why you didn't send us any vintage Penthouse Forums to read. Love, June.
So that sums up my week, and now I am a fat-ass with a tan, which is all you can hope for in a week at the beach.