Bye Bye, Pie!

Okay, SERIOUSLY no time today

Went to the BookUp again last night. May or may not have gone with ...friend. May or may not have stayed out too late. May or may not have LOOMING DEADLINE.

This may or may not be my pal Jo at said BookUp. Who needs to stop saying "may or may not" about everything? May it or may it not be me?

So I will go. But someone in the coments yesterday came up with an interesting Pieces of Wisdom question and I am SORRY, dude, that I do not have time to go CULL the comments and see who said it. I may or may not have time.

Do you have any superstitions about money? For example, I never put my purse on the floor if I can help it because I heard you will never have money in your purse if you do that. And actually I never have money in my purse because I use my ATM card for everything. But when I DO have cash, I always face it in my wallet in the same direction, in number order. Suze Orman said to do that so I listened. I may or may not be relatively not flush. Still.

So what are yours? Do tell.

A post about everything and nothing. Aka what else is new.

I just got back from having dinner with The Other June, and I am writing this before I go to bed. I have a dentist appointment early Thursday morning, so I am writing my post at night, and let me tell you. Things are fascinating over here at House of June.

I hate getting my teeth cleaned. It makes me nervous. And my dentist always comes in after and says, "Mmm. MMMMM! Oh, mmmm. Yeah, how long have you had that old filling?" He's always trying to get ye olde filling replaced that Benjamin Franklin put in for me in 1742, and hadn't Benjamin Franklin been long dead by 1742? June. Knowing her history.

Anyway, my blacksmithed filling is still working FINE, and I don't see why it can't stay in there. It makes a great weather vane, too!

In other news, The Other June and I had a delicious dinner at a pretentious restaurant that serves Southern food, which is kind of redundant. I mean, we're in the South. It's kind of funny to me that they have a fancy restaurant where you can go get...Southern food. Nevertheless, everything was just effing delicious and I highly recommend it. It's called the Southern something-or-other. Get there tout suite.

After dinner, The O.J. came to my house so she could meet Iris and Lily. In the time she has known me, she has met baby Henry,

Baby Roger:

Baby Anderson Cooper:

and now baby Iris.

(I didn't just take that while she's right here on me or anything.) (purring and clutching the pearls.)

Could I stop PLOWING THROUGH CATS, PLEASE?

Also, she came to visit not-baby Lily.

*You understand Lily pretty-est cat ever. That go wifout saying.*

Lily gets her own font, with asterisks, she is so pretty.

And in case you wonder what the hell happened to all those cats because you just got here last Tuesday or something, Marvin took Henry when he left, then delicate, gay Anderson hated living with dogs so I said to Marvin, "Maybe you'd better take Anderson too." So now Anderson and Henry live in connubial bliss, even though I don't really know what connubial means. Then Roger got killed last month and let's talk about that a lot because that doesn't still make me miserable to think about our anything, so I got Iris and Lily at the pound just now.

Anyway. Oh! And before I got up with The Other June and we had our redundant Southern food and she once again met some cats I got, I got me a manicure over at the Elegant Nails & Tan. To which I say, "Define elegant."

My point is, my manicurist talked me into getting this gel manicure, which supposedly will stay on for the rest of my life.

The color is Lincoln Park After Dark, and I had better like it, because apparently I'm being buried in it.

We had a big talk, the manicurist and I, about how she studied French in high school and then in college studied accounting and forgot all her French, then got here and knew very little English. I always wonder how bad it must be to have to move here, give up all that schooling, thrust yourself into a country where you don't know the language, and have to work six days a week as a manicurist.

She works way more than 40 hours a week. She works the whole time the salon is open. How dreadful. Oh! And the woman next to me works for the place that invented those faces on trees. You know how you can buy those woody-looking faces for your tree? Yeah. Also, before she left for her manicure, she told her husband, "I put dinner in the oven, but you have to check it once in awhile." He said, "Well, what am I looking for?"

She was irritated. Also there were two women there getting pedicures and drinking wine. The woman who invented the tree faces told me those women come in all the time. Bring their own cooler. I noticed it took them an hour and a half to drink one glass of wine. What is the point of schlepping a whole cooler of alcohol to the pedicure place if you're not going to drink alcoholically?

I guess that's all I have to tell you. Except that we have a new woman at work and I love her. Today she wore a leopard skirt, a pink shirt with a big flowery frilly thing, and pink sparkly shoes. And she has this framed print in her office that is a picture of Cinderella, and the picture is from the book I had as a kid.

I had TOTALLY FORGOTTEN about this picture but then it all came back to me. This lead me to bring in my fairy tale book from my childhood, which had the most beautiful pictures:

Oh, I used to sit for hours and stare at these pictures. Here is lofty Edsel-looking wolf putting his paw on Little Red June.

I always wanted to find elf and bird tea parties. And did I? Not till I did hallucinogens in college.

I actually have never done hallucinogens. Unless you count Benadryl, which makes me see funny colors and jump off high-rises because suddenly I have peacock wings that fly.

Dude, my swan allergies are killing me. Dude, my princess allergies are killing ME!

I should totally frame these, shouldn't I? Aren't they beautiful? When I really couldn't read I used to make up stories that went with them, kind of like now with the swan allergy story. Not much has changed through the years, except now I apparently have Lincoln Park on my nails for life.

Hold still, darling, and we'll just jooge your flower a little and--voila! FABULOUUUUS! Ernesto, bring that mirror, you lazy antelope. You'd let the lion eat you if it meant moving off the plain while Real Serengeti Wives was on. Oh, sweetheart, you're GORGEOUS! I could EAT YOU UP if I weren't a grass-eating queen!

Maybe I need to get out more.

Talk to you tomorrow, when I have sparkly new teeth. I mean, except for ye olde fyllyng from Geoffrey Chaucer.

Barnum and Gallo and the Spare Oom

I think I'm depressed. I came home last night and went into the spare room where the kitten lives--which is not to be confused with the Spare Omm in the War Drobe from The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe--and laid on the floor in my hat and coat for two hours.

Is that a bad sign?

Did you ever read The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe? Because that was a really good book.

Anyway I don't even have anything to be depressed about.

I mean, sure, everyone in the world is madly in love and happy except me, which I should probably shut up about because just today I got asked on two dates by two different people, as opposed to two same people, so I can't be THAT repulsive, but did I mention I got asked out when I was visiting the Home for the Blind and Poor Judgmented?

Judgmented is an excellent word. I have no idea what you're talking about.

Did I mention I was visiting the Chubby Chasers Support Group?

Did I mention I was walking past an I Heart Old Bags Anonymous meeting that was just letting out?

Okay, I'll stop.

One of the people to ask me out was Barnum. The other was named Bailey. "Great beard!" said Barnum. "I've never SEEN such a nose!" regailed Bailey.

Seriously. Done now.

The two people to ask me out were Ernest and Julio Gallo. They wanted to thank me for all the support through the years.

My POINT is, after lying on Iris' floor for two hours, I finally got up. And by the way she has an upper respiratory infection and is on antibiotics and you know how she was so snuggly and just wanted to lie on me? Guess who has perked the hell up? Is it our sweet Iris? Oh, how she leaped and jumped and did sideways spider kitty and bit my hair and batted her toys this way and that while I lay there motionless on the floor. I mean, I did throw her toys for her a little. But mostly she amused herself. She isn't THAT blind.

And no, I did not take any photos. What part of I was depressed and lying on the floor did you MISS, Kemosabe?

Maybe Dick Clark depressed me. That poor man. Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it's my hair. I heard from this guy I haven't talked to in months, in fact he is one of my dates coming up, and one of the first things he asked was, "How's the hair? Still large?"

The hair. It leaves an impression.

Remember when I broke up with Daniel Boone and like three minutes later I went on a date and the guy was really great and we kissed and everything? He seemed pretty cool, but the timing was so bad, and anyway we started talking again, and my point is we are having coffee this weekend. But I have been specifically not mentioning people I have been seeing so I will shut up now.

Anyway. After finally peeling myself off the kitten floor last night, I went to the living room to look for a book to read, and there on the shelf, after I've been LOOKING FOR IT FOR WEEKS, was a book a reader sent me months ago. It's called When I Married My Mother, and the author lived in New York and then had to move here and she totally felt me when she read this blog and knew I'd identify with her. I got her book and stupidly put it away by color like I do, and I'm telling you at least five times I have gone over to my shelves to find it and couldn't.

(My neurotic color-coordinated bookshelves)

Last night it was right there in front of me. Coudn't miss it.

Ohmygod, that book is GREAT! Jo Maeder, the author, is my people. I laughed, I nodded my head, I got weepy. We should read it for the next book club. What say you?

Ima go now, but I leave you with a word from Tallulah.

 

 

Mince Words with June: Only Time Will Tell by Jeffrey Archer

I wanted to like this book. Because it's the first of a series, and then I'd have a whole series to look forward to and so forth.

But oh, this book was not good. And sadly, I could not put it down. It was kind of like the Twilight books: they were banal, predictable (okay, other than the last Twilight book) and silly, and yet I needed to know what happened next.

I guess my favorite character in the book was Old Jack, the guy who lived in the train car near the docks. I wish I could be all wise and discreet and secretly help everyone. Instead I'd be all, "Hey, did you hear what's going on with that kid? And how that one dock worker was left to die? And how the mom got knocked up by the rich owner's son?" and so forth.

Because you know how I am.

You know what this book was like? A Mauve Binchy story. It had a bunch of characters, and you kind of got into them, yet you knew who was gonna have a sad ending and who wasn't, and yet you kind of got into it.

But the bad people were all bad, and the good people all good, and blech. It was dumb.

Did anyone find it riveting and deep? Do tell.

In which June might bring up her vitamin D and iron levels once or twice

Am writing you on Thursday night. Edsel is outside barking endlessly at nothing, a thing which I am certain pleases the neighbors and endears us to them all. Usually when he does this I get up and make him come in, but I am so exhausted and spent and sad and OVER EVERYTHING that I am sitting here typing like I don't hear it.

I have just had the dumbest day. Some of it I can't even tell you about for various reasons, but some of it I can.

Remember last week? I went to the doctor in order to score Latisse? And they would not give me play? They did, however, take a blood test to see if I had low iron, still, and low vitamin D. Today they called to say BOTH were worse than LAST time they tested me.

Clearly I am dying. Of a vitamin-D-iron-deficiency disease. And if you think trolling around on the Internet and finding diseases that present by giving someone low D and iron, and then emailing me said diseases with, "June, you should know..." is a good idea, Ima come over to your house personally and slap you with my own liver.

So I have to go BACK on the vitamin D and iron pills, which means I will (a) never poop again and (2) be nauseated all the time.

Yay! Those are two of my favorite emotions! Stopped up and sickly!

So that was bad enough. Then we got our flu shots today at work, and of course who wore something stupid so that I could not just push up my sleeve or whatever? I had to practically show the nurse all my worldly goods, there, to get the shot.

Also, I walked in and she extended her hand, so I shook it. Then I said, "You didn't want to shake my hand, did you. You wanted the paperwork."

"True," said the nice nurse, who looked a lot like my Aunt MaryEllen, "but it's very nice to meet you." Then she jabbed me with a needle. After getting to second base with my obstacle clothing.

Probably I will have a reaction to the shot because I am so dangerously low in D and iron. That is probably the perfect storm of things that cause you to turn into a chicken egg or something from a flu shot.

Oh, and speaking of which, one of the Spanish editors told me I need to be cleared today. I work with many Spanish editors, and they all dress in pretty colors, and have good hair, and basically I feel like a white frump with low iron whenever they are around.

"When bad things happen, especially when you get three things in a row like you got," said the editor, "in my culture you go to the voodoo man and get your spirit cleansed."

My best friend Donna and I are going to New Orleans in a few weeks, and if you live there I love you very much but no. We cannot get together for a special moment brought to you by Taster's Choice. Donna has a fancy job and a husband and two kids and the last time we were alone together was senior skip day in 1983. Okay, it was probably two years ago but still.

My POINT is, who's gonna drag Donna to the voodoo shop for some cleansing and purifying? Also, I will have them turn ONE of you into a chicken. You'll just have to wait to see who.

And was that enough? The iron-pooooah-blaaaad and the lack of D and the needing cleared and the getting felt up by a nurse? No. Many more things happened, and as I said I cannot reveal them due to others' privacy and my job security and so forth, but suffice it to say I went to the kitchen? At work? And there was a new Anne Lamont book on the table. There's a table in the break room that means if it's there, anyone can have it. It's where you put your doughnuts, your casseroles, your kids' things he's selling for a ski trip, whatever. And there was the new Anne Lamont book.

"I LOVE ANNE LAMONT!" I thought, grabbing the book. And burst into tears.

Seriously. Am I going through the CHANGE? I mean, I CRIED over a BOOK. I had to run to my cubicle before anyone saw me. Happy I snagged the book, though.

Then after work I had to go to Target to pick up (wait for it) vitamin D and iron pills, and I was headed to the dog food aisle that they might as well just name aisle June, when indeed I heard, "June!"

And I mean I literally heard "June." It was Faithful Reader Jessica, and I don't even know if she faithfully reads anymore, because she hasn't commented in a long time. But she and I have gotten together before, and she has appeared on this blog before, I mean not literally, but her photo has.

I grabbed her and hugged her and (yes) got weepy. "I'M SO GLAD TO SEE YOU!" I wailed. Her daughter was with her. "HIIII!" I said to the small child. "ARE YOU GETTING HALLOWEEN STUFF?!?!?"

Jessica seemed to draw her kid a little closer.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice catching. "I've had the WORST DAY. You wanna get together soon!?!??!"

"I hope your day gets better," she said, hurrying off. She practically shuttled that kid under her arm like a football.

So. Little emo lately. Is what I'm saying.

Maybe it's the lack of iron.

Oh! And thanks for delurking yesterday, y'all! Don't be afraid to comment. We are a nice bunch. Just ask Faithful Reader Jessica.

And here.

"why we gotta do this all time?"

"andersun get revengg. oh yes he do."

If I have a crappy day, the cats have to share in it with me.

This reminds me of the time I had deja vu

Dogs. Up at 5:00 again. June's sleep. Screwed up again.

June. Sick of dogs since September 16, 2011.

sik of who, mom? how you sik of eds? i nice. espeshly at 5 in morning.

Because I have to be at work in .0006 seconds and I am here in my robe with Edsel REPEATEDLY dropping his Kong on my foot, I must scurry through my news.

Last  night was my friend Chatting's book signing. She has written a book called Grace for the Good Girl, about growing up all religious and such, and how she was different from everyone else as a result, and what she's kept from her upbringing and what she's tweaked.

I totally shoplifted a copy. Because I have never been a good girl.

The most important part of this story is that I loved her cocktail ring. Which is ironic because I don't think she even drinks cocktails.

Also, the world's cutest, life-of-the-partiest baby was ahead of me in line. She actually smiled at me, which trust me, is rare. Babies sense my evil. Although sometimes they get mesmerized by the hair and forget the evil.

Anyway. Glad I did that. I always feel so personally important when my friends accomplish something big. Yes, I CAN take any situation and make it about me. What do you mean?

Okay, must go. It is approximately 18 degrees out all of a sudden and I get to wear the adorbale fall shoes I bought for this job back in May. Go, silver lining.

June, out.

Mince Words with June: A Three Dog Life

Mostly what I got out of reading A Three Dog Life by Abigail Thomas is that beagles suck.

As the owner of a part beagle, I am allowed to say that.

If you didn't read the book, and you know how I enjoy it when you come to book club and leave the comment "I didn't read the book, but..." A Three Dog Life is the true story of what happens when Abigail Thomas' husband goes out to walk their beagle and the husband gets hit by a car and suffers hideous brain damage. He gets hit by a car because (a) the ding-dang beagle gets loose and I so know how THAT goes and (2) they live in Manhattan, so when the husband dashed out to save the beagle he was pretty doomed.

The title A Three Dog Life is good. When it's really cold, people used to say. "Oh, it's a three-dog night tonight!" meaning you'd let all the dogs sleep with you to ward off the chill. Abigail Thomas really does have three dogs now, and they have helped her through the part where she lost her husband but he was still there.

His brain damage was so horrible that he had to be institutionalized for the rest of his life, and although some days he'd recognize his wife when she came to visit, after that he pretty much said nonsensical things that were occasionally really beautiful. "Transparent windowlike words" or "add memory on memory deep in the forest, layers of dirt and leaves and branches...the past is underfoot." I was so impressed with the words he said even as damaged as he was.

Wasn't it weird when things would happen in her life and she would go to visit him and he would allude to those things? As though he were somehow aware of them even though he couldn't be? Like when she went to a friend's for beef stew and he mentioned beef stew that night? How was that possible? What did you think of that?

I admired Abigail Thomas for her attitude about this whole tragedy. She just accepted that this is her fate and has carried on. There was no denial or gnashing her teeth or wishing it weren't so. She isn't even dating anyone. She just left Manhattan and moved closer to his hospital and saw him when she could and kept going. I don't know if I could have been as stoic. Have you met me? There is little sto in my ic.

And of course I totally identified with getting pets to help yourself feel better. I don't know why everyone doesn't have a pet. Or seven. I have never understood those "Oh, no, I don't want a pet" people. When I go to their houses there is nothing to scratch or talk about or admire. If you ask me.

Oh, and the other thing that stuck with me is how quickly she and her husband fell in love. When you know you know. I thought of it a lot these past few months with all the semi-indifferent men I have met who claimed they just needed time to get to like me. No you don't. It's there or it isn't. Is my theory. Do you agree?

Did you like the book? Would you have brought your husband home and cared for him or left him in the hospital, as she did? Did you think that was a selfish or a brave, smart gesture? Did you like her? I did. I would like to be a grownup in the way she is.

Okay, tell me what you think.

Faithful Reader Hulk

First of all, I am being stalked by somebody in Match.com. Not by Daniel Boone or Dick Whitman, and I am cracking my own self up with those phony names I have for the two decent normal men I met on there. Some OTHER guy.

He seemed okay at first, and he was funny and kind of reminded me of Faithful Reader Hulk, except not a Republican like Faithful Reader Hulk. No offense, Faithful Reader Hulk. I wonder how many times I can say "Faithful Reader Hulk" in this post?

At any rate, he asked if he could call me and I was all...well...okay, but not tonight because I am busy. I was busy thinking about Faithful Reader Hulk, as you do. But the guy called that night--twice--and has called 340598205 times since. "Hi, June, this here's Stalky StalkerLonely. Just calling to see how yer doin.' "

I mean, really? How many times do you need to call a person and they don't return the call before you get the hint? I'll bet Faithful Reader Hulk would've gotten the hint.

Last night I was working like a demon. In fact, I took this picture with the web camera while I was trying to open something and close something else all up on here:

It pretty much encapsulates my evening. I canNOT get this stupid project done for the statistics company where I freelance and I'm certain at this point they wish to shoot me in the head and feed me to Faithful Reader Hulk. So I was opening one document and closing another and taking sneaky shots of myself and eating a pen when:

Ring! Ring!

For the love of all that is holy.

"Haaaahh, Jooone! Stalky here agin! Jist seein' if you're around."

Okay, guess what. I AM NEVER GOING TO BE AROUND.

Thank God for caller ID. And for Faithful Reader Hulk.

In news that does not concern my newfound love life, we need to pick a book for book club. So far the suggestions have been:

The Historian

The Road to Wellville

Water Music

The Corner of Bitter and Sweet

You know what? There was more and I can't find the suggestions. Try combing through my effing comments for just one thing. Easy it is not. Faithful Reader Hulk might be easy, but this? Nosir.

So if you have more suggestions, make them TODAY during the day, not tonight, and let's decide on a book before tomorrow morning. Vote now or forever hold your peace.

And the first person to come to book club and say, "I'm here but I didn't read the book!" gets a bitch slap from Faithful Reader Hulk.

In which June is stuck on the word "appalled"

The angry chair has brought out the anger in my kittens.

I wonder what Francis would think of this? I think he'd have been appalled. And perhaps cranky. Also? Nice cornhole, Roger.

In other news, I will always turn up the volume when this song comes on. I wonder if it's hard for sober Dave Navarro to sit right next to that idiot with the wine bottle?

And hey! We need a new book to read for book club. Suggestions, please. One thing we discussed in the comments was everyone watching It's a Wonderful Life instead of reading a book, as I was as appalled as Francis when I realized some of you hadn't watched it. Suggestions, please.

I must go, as perhaps I stayed up late yakking on the phone again. Oh! But before I do, did anyone see Ryan O'Neal being interviewed on Piers Moran the other night? First of all, what kind of a phony-ass name is "Piers"?

June. Losing readers named Piers since summer of 2011.

How big of a narcissist is Ryan O'Neal? He was appalling! Like Roger and Anderson in the chair, he was appalling! Nothing was ever his fault, he blamed poor Tatum O'Neal for everything. No wonder none of his kids turned out okay. Yeesh. Please tell me someone else saw this.

Okay, really going now.

Mince Words with June: All about Lululululululu (who loves herself?)

I bought this book on Amazon, because God forbid I save any money and look for it at the library or anything. Then once it came, I realized I'd read it before, and not only had I read it before, but Faithful Reader The Chief had sent it to me for free.

This is why I'll never be rich.

So, who predicted the ending? I surely did not, and it even took me awhile reading it again to remember what the end was. But once you've read it once and re-read it knowing the ending, Lulu makes more sense.

Did you like her or did she bug you? I kind of liked her, although there is nothing worse than a beautiful, tortured, self-centered young girl. Really. There isn't. Men salivate all over her, and if she were a haggard tortured 45-year-old, no one would give a rat's ass.

Not that I am speaking from experience or anything.

I also really liked that she moved to Seattle in the late '80s, as I moved there in the early '90s and could identify with her experience there. Although where she found a one-bedroom apartment she could afford on her own is beyond me.

Oh! And I have been to that dinosaur in the middle of the California desert, so I liked that part, too. It is still there and you can still climb in his abdomen and go up to the top and look out through his teeth. Way cool.

I can never get into narrators who are physically unattractive. I just want to get in there and say, DO SOMETHING WITH YOUR APPEARANCE. Maybe that makes me shallow. Do you think? So I never really rooted for him that much, nor for his gross brothers. I kind of liked them as a family once they all got older.

I guess that is all I have to say about that. What did you think of this book? I liked reading it, both times.

Your partner in mincing,

June