My problem is, I'm not attracted to wealth and power. Like, look at Candace Bergen. She married two men who weren't that pretty, but rich? Hells yeah, they were rich. And she must have slept with them, right? Or how else could she have a baby and/or kept that marriage afloat? Why can't I be Candace Bergen? This whole attracted to funny, well-read men who are cute sort of blows. It's not workin' for me.
Maybe if we all get our energy together, like we did that time to find Hulk a woman and you see how that worked, we can all ask the universe, Hey, let's send June a kind, rich man who she also wants to bang. God really likes it when you say "bang."
What would you ask the universe for? Maybe we could put in requests, and then every day I can assign us a thought to direct to the universe.
Anyway, in the meantime, Edsel pooped on the floor today. Yeah.
Is it that the kitten was one toke over the line? Is he finally completely over Lottie, and who isn't? I don't know. I just know we all woke up, Lottie went outside, Edsel wouldn't, and when I walked into the computer room, there was Edsel's calling card. When I went to look for him he was standing under my desk, like he expected an earthquake.
I petted him for a long time. Poor Edsel.
There's a cute couple from work--they both work there--who came to meet Johnny Cats last night. They're considering taking him, and wanted to mull it over, so further reports as developments warrant. He's such a cool little cat, did I mention? Last night I was worried about him being bored in the back room, so I was sitting in there with him, and he was on my lap while I fired up a video of gymnastics at the Olympics. I watch because I can do all those things the gymnasts do, I just choose not to show you.
The point is, I realized that Johnny was watching the video with me. So I went to YouTube and showed him videos for cats, and he loved those. He'd put his little kitten paw on the screen at the birds and squirrels.
I love him. News flash. But I can't keep him, because Edsel pooped on the floor, among other things.
Eventually, I brought him to the living room so he could meet everyone. Iris hissed and fled. Lily sat right next to us and acted like the kitten did not exist. Lottie barked, and Edsel drooled.
Kitty was not so amenable.
Poor Johnny. Good lord.
After I'd thoroughly traumatized the kitten, I put him back in the room
and came out for a meeting of The Needy Committee.
I'd forgotten they usually meet on Mondays while The Real Housewives are on, except STUPID OLYMPICS usurped my show. Goddammit. Stupid people's hopes and dreams. WHAT ABOUT MY HOUSEWIVES? They have dreams, too.
Speaking of committees, I'd forgotten to tell you that ironically, on Friday morning before my accident, I got Korean medicine for my neck pain. We have a massage therapist who comes on Fridays, and she taped some mustard seeds to my finger to relieve neck pain, and I was to leave it on for five hours and then be sure to have two tons smash into me from behind at a high speed. Wedding Alex, who got mad at me once because I signed up for her time to get massages, and "everyone knows my massage time is 11:40," was also mustard seeded. We were Mustard Seed Sisters.
That reminds me. They hired someone new at work. Guess what her name is. I am not even kidding.
By the way, who here knew that Wedding Alex's massage time was 11:40? Did you see it displayed in Times Square? Cause I was so embarrassed I missed it. Did you see them running with the Olympic torch that at the end burst into a flame display that spelled out: Alex's Massage Time is 11:40?
Flame display. If I'm sick of hearing about one thing, it's flame displays.
I'd better go. I have 50 animals to deal with. Oh! Before I go, I was thinking that if I ever got one of those tattoos that say something in your arm, you know the ones that look like someone wrote it, or in typeface, that girls get? I like those. What would mine say? Other than what I plan to get, which is "11:40."