When it comes to my coffee cups ("We're riveted, June!"), I tend to grab the one closest to the front. But today I really wanted my Green Bean coffee mug--it's really my favorite, and as of today I haven't had sex in a month, so let me have the goddamn coffee mug I want.
Old picture/mug of now. It's solid. It feels nice in my hand. I like the train on it and the old-fashioned fonts. What more can a girl ask?
The point is, it wasn't in the front. I reached for it specifically, almost knocking over another mug, which I realized was a Christmas mug that had been Anne Frank-ing it way back in my cupboard.
"Oh, you belong upstairs," I told it, and right then I knew. I'm now calling my attic "upstairs." Hey, delusional. How's your second floor?
We won't even discuss the part where I'm chatting with coffee mugs.
In other news, there's a bunny head on my deck. All heads on deck!
When I came home to my two-story abode for lunch, I looked in the back yard to see what condition my rabbit-tion was in. (In case you're just tuning in, yesterday morning Edsel murdered a rabbit. Yes, I said Edsel.) I saw tufts of poor fur everywhere, but I didn't see poor Miss January, which is what I named the beleaguered bunny whose life ended so undignifiedly.
So, I let Edsel out, and he was out there all of lunch, which is unusual as he tends to enjoy mooning at me all of lunch, till finally I had to get back to work, so I called him in.
"DROP IT!" I commanded, because right here is someone you respect. Edsel will drop it if he has, you know, a sock, or a cat, but a wonderful dead bunny part?
"DROP IT!" I bellowed again, through the door.
Edzful pho not dropping diff, he said with his stupid mouth full.
"DROP.IT." I got my scary voice. He sighed and dropped it. Then last night he wanted out again, and I had to screech at him to drop it all over again, into the dark of night, my fishwife screams inevitably reaching the gaybors, who you know mark on their oft-darkened calendars whenever I do something insane.
He's back out there today, and I see he's chawing again, so I hope he won't quit while he's a head. I hope he finishes the deal. You know, whenever Mr. Horkheimer caught anything, he very efficiently ate the entire thing. I watched him do it once when he horrifyingly brought in a mouse in a teensy hearse, a whole lineup of mouse cars following him with their headlights on.
I would just like to mention at this moment, my 5th anniversary with Lily, that Lily has gotten involved in this rabbit test nonce. She does not care, she does not wish to go out there like a jackal the way Iris did, the buzzards don't obsess her as they did Steely Dan. She's the only one holding back the years, over here.
Oh my god, I had completely forgotten that song till I just said that.
I hear this song, and I'm dating Marvin and working as a hostess at a restaurant. As opposed to a hostess at a cupcake.
That Simply Red guy has June hair.
I gotta go. I've wasted all my tears. Wasted all of those years.