Almost the very minute I pressed "Publish" yesterday on my post, as soon as I'd said to you, "A Charismatic Attractive always forgets your birthday. The Low-Key Reliable never does," I realized my friend Dottie's birthday came and went and I'd NEVER GIVEN IT A THOUGHT.
Not a THOUGHT. Not an "I'm at work, but I gotta remember to call Dot after." Nothing.
For years--DECADES!!--I had a big old pretty wall calendar I hung on the wall, with everyone's birthdays on it. The Purchase of the Wall Calendar was a big thing for me. Remember the year I got the Vintage Better Homes & Gardens calendar and you all had to hear about it constantly?
I even put some of the months into my old coffee table. Look at Iris down there, all, "Eyeriss want to see. Well. See-ish."
The point is, this year I didn't get one. "Oh, it's the digital age," I told myself. "I have a calendar on my phone."
Guess what doesn't work for me? I still want a Hallmark date book and a big pretty wall calendar, one that shows the next month and the previous month. I don't understand calendars that don't. I also like one that shows the phases of the moon, even though all you have to do for that is look up. I'm getting one next year. Writing all the birthdays on it again.
Anyway, I called Dot. She picked up the phone: "Hello?" and I launched into all that. All of the above. She had to sit there and listen to that whole diatribe. Dottie is an LKR. I am a CAwkward-Looking.
"It's okay," she said, because she's low-key. "I appreciate you taking the time to call now," she said.
Dottie is the kind of person who sends you fruit bouquets when you break up with someone. She bought me all the Girl Scout cookie flavors--all of them--this year and last. Sometimes she sees Pop-Tarts, thinks of me, and mails them.
And I forgot her 50th birthday. Clean forgot.
Yeah. Won't you be my friend? It's super-rewarding.
While I was perusing pictures of my old calendar to show you, I found this of me in 1976 at Xmas. Back when I was a stewardess, apparently. And look! A dog! Hunh. That was my grandparents' dog Josh. The Christmas tree was in the dining room that year, for some reason. I'd forgotten the red carpeting. It was 1976. We'd have dyed the dog red, white and blue if we could have.
This photo furthers my mother's cockamamie theory that my hair was normal till I moved out, and now I "do something to it." As if I'd intentionally wish it to be this way. Also, I guess that's my real hair color. Kind of nondescript blondbrownish.
So, what're you all doing for the 4th of July? I'm doing various celebratory things--a concert here, another sort of 4th festival there. I have no real plans to see the fireworks, but they're downtown this year, and that annoys me. Sounds like a nightmare to find parking. Remember when Ned lived right downtown? That was so convenient. I had a little parking pass thing and I could zip right into his lot and walk to whatever event. I think I still have that parking pass, actually. I wonder if I could get away with using it?
Tune in next time for June's Car is Towed.
I also found this picture, of me with Busty Dusty, from a bachelor party in 1991. Those are her breasts, not her knees. Her breasts. We were looking under my CARDIGAN, because hey, sexy, why not wear a cardigan to a strip club?
I was the honorary guy at that particular bachelor party. Also, that is not my natural hair color.
This is not my natural hair texture. Thank all that is holy and merciful.
Also not my natural color.
Why did I keep stampeding for perms?
Anyway, so I guess that's all my news. I am a terrible friend and also I have some plans for the weekend and finally my hair has done a lot of weird things but I don't "do something to it," MOM.
You know, looking at all my hair pictures (which I did by Googling "byebyepie" + "June hair") (Google byebyepie + anything, and a hilarious array of photos show up, mostly of me, which is kind of scary), I realize I've had this same goddamn hairstyle for ages. I mean, shoulder length, curly, whatever. I should change it up. But the only ways to change it are to blow it straight or cut it, and I look like George Washington when I cut it and you know that.
I realize this is all very riveting, but I must go. I have to slip into my denim jumpsuit even though I'm not a prisoner, despite all your filthy fantasies about me being one, tie on a jaunty neckerchief and get to work. Today is BRF Alex's last day. Yesterday was Linda the Sexy Receptionist's last day. It's also the last day of this really cool woman on our Spanish team. I remember back when I actually had a cubical, she'd sit in it and talk about boys, and now she's getting married.
Everything's changing. Except my hair.