Bye Bye, Pie!

Catch you on the flip side, Davy. Oh. Also? Tallulalina Jowlie.

In the past 24 hours, Iris slept on my head, Edsel bit me, and poor Davy Jones died. Who gets his locker?

I liked Davy Jones. I mean, didn't we all? And one of my fancy LA friends just told a story about him, on Facebook, and the gist of it is he was a lovely person. Of course, we already knew that.

 

What. You thought I WOULDN'T put in a You Tube clip today? I practically AM YouTube by now. YouJune. Anyway, once he took Marcia to prom we all knew he was a good guy.

Oh, and Edsel didn't mean to bite me. We were playing with his stupid toy that if you ask me resembles a marital aid, and we were tugging-of-waring, which is a fine phrase, and his ludicrous teefs came down on my finger instead of the toy. "OWWWOWOWOWWWWwwwwww!" I said, and he was mortified. He kept pushing his luggish head into mine and wagging furiously, so I'd know how sorry he was. Then he groaned over to his sensitive chair and started at me for 70 hours, like he does.

...I just spent an inordinate amount of time looking for a photo of Eds in his sensitive chair,

and you know what I should do? Is somehow organize my photos on this computer. Anyway, my Mac has a fabulous feature called "Faces" that just shows you, you know, faces, and I got interested in looking at that, and I found a lovely photo of my pal Miss Doxie.

Even though she's this annoyingly pretty--and I was with her that day and all she basically did was shower, throw on a little lipstick and go--you can't help but like her. Mostly because she sends me stuff like this:

Would I still be able to love Tallulah if she grew an Angelina Jolie leg? Tallulalina Jowlie.

Anyway.

Oh, and I went to lunch with my ...friend yesterday.

We had Vietnamese food. Yes, I did drag out my tired old joke about Agent Orange chicken.

The place had everything. Marvelous decor,

in-proportion disco balls,

lots of food.

This leaf is from the collection of weird leafy things ...friend put in his soup. He ordered an enormous bowl of soup, then said, "I come here quite often. It's a break from the boring soup and salad I usually get at lunch."

"But you're ...eating soup. With leafy salad-y things in it," I pointed out.

It was then that I turned to the literature and read that.

I parked right here under this sign, and you can imagine how this did not bother me at all. "Walk in is." Or perhaps the "in" owns something. Not the walk-ins, though, because there is no hyphen to connect walk-in. Really the whole sign gave me a hive. I wish people would call me before they spend money on signs. Did I ever tell you about the place I drove past EVERY NIGHT in LA that said, "Eyebrown Wax"? Or what about the other place, that sold "stuffanimal"?

It is hard to be me.

Somehow during lunch, I mentioned the fact that I had gotten a perm in the '80s and afterwards I emailed this fine photo to ...friend.

What hair? Thanks, loved ones, for warning me not to get a perm.

I had better slip on my turquoise loafers and get started with my day. Some idiot felon-looking person already came to my door and asked if I wanted an estimate re my trees. It was 9 a.m.! Rude. And he did the thing where he rang the doorbell, then knocked insistently, as though he had something crucial to tell me. You can imagine how this pleased the dogs.

I was in my robe, and I am telling you he gave me the once-over. THE ONCE-OVER! While disturbing me at the early early hour of 9:00 in my very own home! Guess who did not say sure, give me that estimate. Perv.

Catch you on the flip side.

Did you hear Whitney Houston died?

I know this was covered ad nauseum in my comments yesterday, but maybe you're one of those people who doesn't read my comments, to which I say, "?" And also, "!" Because not reading my comments is like only eating the hard outside of the Oreo. You don't get the really bad-for-you hydrogenated deliciousness inside.

Yesterday was Whitney Houston's funeral, and even though I had seven hundred thousand four hundred and twelve pages to edit of that book I was given at the last minute, I thought I'd tune into it for a minute.

Three hours and 40 minutes later, it was still going on. Whose funeral lasts that long? I would have been ordering in a pizza had I been at that event.

There were a lot of touching things, actually. Kevin Costner said good stuff and it made you like him. As did Tyler Perry, and I KNOW. Who knew he was likable? But the part that I could not get over was the woman in the crowd with June hair.

 

I know you wish I'd stop blogging with You Tube already, but look at that woman next to Alicia Keyes. She totally has June hair. If you click on the image to blow it up, you can see, but the woman also makes sure to crane her neck, there, so we can all enjoy her June hair for a moment without clicking if we're patient.

We got to see that hair all during Alicia Keyes and also Stevie Wonder, who was never so glad he couldn't see anything. What gives with that woman's 'do? Oh, dear, what if that's one of the Faithful Reader Lisas or something and I have no idea? She'll be coming on here today to be all, "I was at Whitney's funeral!" and here I am, talking about her hair.

Dear Faithful Reader Whomever with the Bad White Girl Fro,

Your loved ones are not telling you that is some bad hair. Relax that shit, honey. For all our sakes.

Oh, also? If you're making a YouTube video? You do not need to SCREAM A TITLE across the screen. We searched for it already. We know what we're looking at. Thanks.

Anyway, good funeral. I had no idea a funeral could be nearly four hours long. Then they all had to traipse to the cemetery, right? I mean, didn't they? Then go have ham? In my family we always go have ham. Usually in a church hall or something.

Doesn't ham sound delicious right now? Why can't I lose the weight?

In other news, I have no other news, because other than watching that 10-hour-long funeral, I had to catch up on all my work, which I did not finish until 11:00 last night. And I didn't finish it, I just read to the page number I had set for myself and have to do it all over again today. Because my life is fun.

Oh, and I gave Faithful Reader PJ comment of the week, because look who is becoming good at assigning Comment of the Week again. Go look in This Week's Special to see. 

When I watched the funeral yesterday, I came to the conclusion that whenever I talk, I wish to have dramatic organ music playing in the background, and I want you all to yell, YES! and AMEN! and wave your arms around and so forth while you read my posts. I hope you have not forgotten this directive.

I went on YouTube (I know. Obsessed.) to find dramatic organ music so you could read my whole post again with said music playing, because I am annoying. But then I found this woman and fell passionately in love with her. How cute is she. "That's not the song I was supposed to sing!" 

I get so bored with my white self I could scream. And why don't I have invisible backup singers?

My grandma used to say, "Your ass would make him a Sunday face." I know that takes like 15 minutes to figure out.

I am sad about Heidi Klum and Seal, which is not at all pathetic of me, because I know them really well and Heidi Klum and I are like this. But they always seemed so happy, and like such a hot couple, and once again I'd like to remind you of the many times they came over and the marathon phone sesh Heidi and I had that time.

To add patheticness to delusion, I checked America's Top News Source, TMZ, to get the full story, and of course there WAS none, other than they have irreconcilable differences. Gee, do they? That tells us a lot. But in the comments someone said, "Seal looks like my ass with teeth."

And I am sorry but I fell out my chair in hysterics. Because you know that's awful. And yet hilarious. Ass with teeth. Poor Seal.

While I'm on the topic of stalking people, you know how I love the new girl at work?

 

 LOVE.HER. Do you think she'd think it was weird if I followed her around with my bottom teeth out like Edsel?

Here are the shoes she wore to work yesterday.

No, seriously. Like, if I rested my chin on her desk while she worked, that's no big deal, right? And did the Edsel sigh? Hmmmmmmmmm.

you no, edzul resent. do not spend ALL day followeeng m--oh who edz kiddeeng. where you go now, mom?

 I must go now, because Iris has her follow-up vet appointment.

she do?

There is a chance they may have to remove her wonky eye altogether.

wait. wats?

I will inform you as developments warrant. Oh, did I tell you I have a second date with the guy from the other night? Whose blog name is going to be Ranger Johnson, and we did not get that from doing the porn name thing at all. His dad had, like, four dogs as a kid through the years and named them all Ranger. Then when this guy was a kid, they got a dog and guess what they named it?

I mean, take EIGHT SECONDS and think of something else. How could you refer to the dogs of the past? "Remember when Ranger got that skunk?" You'd be all, wait. Which EFFING RANGER?

iris see gud! playing! playing gud! not to take out eye, pleez.

*You know, I heer it just awful, Iris. Terrible surguree. Lily haf many storee she can tell you.*

*no, mamma. not tell iris bad storee. what you mean?*

Okay. Going. Not berserk today at all.

HATE LOST LOVES. Also? I discuss Newt. As always.

A few days ago, in the labyrinth of my comments, Faithful Reader Jan made the fateful mistake of telling us all that she used to write poetry about her boyfriends when she was sad in high school.

I told Jan she was banned from my blog until she came up with said poetry. You should know that a few years back, I had to have a stupid MRI for my migraines and it was no big deal but of course I MADE it a big deal, but Jan really DID have a big medical deal and as soon as she woke up from HER thing, she asked her sister, "Did June get her MRI results yet?"

So what I'm saying is I'm a super, super good person.

Without further ado, let's all laugh at Jan's pain and angst.

H eartbroken

A ll-consuming

T ightly wound

E ager to love

 

L osing something

O nce

S olid

T o

 

L oneliness

O nce

V ivacious, now

E verything is

S oured

Poor Jan. She lost something once solid. So did I, when I had that stomach bug the other day. Also, Jan, I work right next to a poet, and not only is she a poet, she TRAVELS THE COUNTRY because she is asked to READ said poems in major cities all the time. Also, she just won a national award.

I forwarded her your poems. Oh, you are welcome. It was nothing.

Dreams shattered,

Hearts battered,

Lives tattered,

Love.

Eyes cry,

Hearts die,

Wondering WHY???,

Love.

No peace,

Feelings cease,

Lies increase,

Love.

Marriage vow,

Forever now,

No tears I allow.

LOVE.

I always like a comma after 70 question marks. Poor Jan. Her feelings ceased. Or someone's did. I guess hers didn't. Her heart died and her eyes cried. I mean, I glean she was the heart-dier and eye crier from this scenario. Also, Nancy Kerrigan called. Wants her line back.

Was there ANYONE who had just a smooth time in high school? "High school? Oh, I was a cheerleader and had one boyfriend and we never broke up. My skin was clear and I had great friends and nothing bad happened. Ever. I never went around singing Open Arms like it was good."

If there is anyone who had that experience, please leave a comment and your address, so the rest of us can come toilet paper your house.

In other news, when I wasn't receiving dog flowers (see post below), I went on a date last night and could not find my skirt. I hate everything. I mean, I didn't lose my skirt DURING the date, which would have rendered it way more PG-rated than it was. But I'd planned the outfir days ago, and was going to wear my gray skirt and lacy black top, and I even HAD THE SKIRT IN MY HANDS and said, Oh, good. Skirt's clean.

Then when it was time to get ready, do you think that #$%$&#&# thing was anywhere? ANYWHERE? And have you ever tried to frantically search your house with 100 pounds of dog and two cats DIRECTLY UNDER YOU at all times? Why do I have the clingiest animals ever created?

So I wore jeans. I mean, I wore a shirt too, but the whole thing was not what I had planned and here. I took a picture right before I left.

I am in my coat, so you can see none of the outfit, except the flower pin Miss Doxie sent me that was on my coat. I note I took this at 6:57, which is nice because I was supposed to be there at 7:00.

And here I am, back home, at 10:12. No worse for the wear, really. Wouldn't it be sad if I did not go on a date at all last night and I just sat here for three hours and 15 minutes and took these photos?

Anyway, further reports on that as developments warrant. And this was not the guy who I owe a date to because I got sick. I am getting my roots done Saturday in Raleigh and am seeing him after. Although he does not live in Raleigh. I realize that made little sense.

I guess that's all I had to tell you, except I have no cavities and spent $95 on a new Oral B. I already HAVE an Oral B and if you do not have one I highly recommend it. First of all, my checkups are way better and no, I'm not getting paid to say this. Plus I'm certain its better for the environment to throw away a small toothbrush head rather than a whole toothbrush. But I've had my Oral B, and how many times can I say "Oral B," for a few years now, and the handle itself was not really clean and I couldn't GET it clean and it was bugging me. So I got another one. And my hygienist told me to stop putting so much toothpaste on the teensy brush head.

I know that was riveting.

And I do have one more thing I almost forgot. I would never vote for Newt Ginrich. You know how I feel about political things. I HATE the attitude that people who don't agree with us politically must be idiots, or the enemy, or pure evil. But I do not agree with him and would never vote for him based on that. However? I am 100% in support of him on this.

 

I do! What someone says to his WIFE, while they are struggling to keep their MARRIAGE afloat, is (a) none of our business no matter what and (3) does not make him lacking in character. It just doesn't. It's ridiculous. And petty. And I similarly didn't care what Bill Clinton was doing over there with a dress from The Gap, either. Could we move on from people's personal lives? 

If we looked at ANY of our personal lives, we'd find something that looked not-so-great. Geez.

That's all I have to say about that. Jan, could you write a poem about it?

Life has its perks, Steve Jobs is dead and that's sad, and it's Snowing at the pound

Dear Mr. Steve Jobs,

Thank you for the cool computer. And phone. And iPod. And stuff.

Love, June

In other news--

I got a percolator! At least one of you told me to in the comments so I threw caution to the wind. Well. More specifically, I threw 42 dollars to Target.

It is in there making perk-perk-perk sounds as we speak. Which we aren't. But you know what I mean. It's so cool! Percolators are a sound from my childhood. Am expecting a teensy Piglet figurine on my cereal spoon today, too.

Did anyone else have one of those? It must have come in some cereal but I am unsure.

Oh! And in case you read my comments last night, listen to THIS!

I was strolling with the curs last night, as I am wont to do (one of my neighbors and I were chatting when the snooty spaniel woman walked by last night, and the neighbor watched my dogs hurl themselves and foam at the mouth and show their dumb teeth and he said, "Those dogs need a lot of work." Yeah. Thanks for that news flash), and I passed the Snowflake house.

"Kin we pet yer dawgs?!" they screamed, as they always do.

(Here they are, tormenting Roger, in case you've forgotten them)

"Where's Snowflake?" I asked, as I always do. It is never worth it to go over there if Snowflake is out, as then it just War of the Noses, with everyone barking and being appalled and picketing funerals and so forth.

"SNOWFLAKE'S AT THE POUUUND!" they all screamed.

What?

Their nipple-ring dad ambled over, although I am relieved to tell you he had on a shirt yesterday.

"Either Snowflake or Goldilocks bit the mailman. They got out," said Nipple-Ring, looking sad. "They told me it'd be 600 dollars to get 'em out and I don't have that kinda money."

Those dogs are always getting out. They have a chihuahua named Pedro, who you notice I have never once mentioned because I could not be more indifferent to Pedro, plus it annoys me because twice I have tried to catch him to return him and he's a speedy em eff. Anyway, Pedro spends more time out of the fence than in.

"I'll see you guys later!" I said, stampeding for home.

"WHAT'S YOUR DAD'S NAME?" the littlest one, who is a button--have I mentioned that?-- called after me. Those kids are fascinated by my every move. I have no idea why.

I ignored her, in case she was trying to steal my identity or something, and raced home. The dogs were all, "What Sam Hill is mom hurry?"

How fast did I get to the dang pound, do you think? Did I have any idea what I was gonna do once I got there? No. But I cannot STAND the thought of those dogs in the pound. They are good dogs. They do not BITE. I mean, maybe they DID bite the mailman but I pretty much petted Snowflake over her fence every day for two years and she never remotely even showed me a fang.

Yeah. Stupid pound. Do you know what their dumb hours are? Noon to six. NOON TO SIX. How are those even hours?

Am totally going there at noon today, and does anyone want a dog?

   

I Noflake. Noflake assure you no maleman bitin' occurred.

And in closing. In summation. Finally. Thanks for participating in Chunks of Wisdom or whatever...the part that surprised me the most? That y'all are partial to certain kinds of ketchup. Really? I never notice a difference.

You also seemed to be loyal to Coke products...

Bah!

And you were almost religious about either Twizzlers or Red Vines. Which is another topic of indifference for me. Ketchup, licorice and Pedro. All "eh" topics for June.

Okay, will give a Snowflake report as conditions warrant. I promise you those dogs are sweet and if anyone is interested please alert me. Goldilocks looks just like Snowflake except (wait for it) gold. Those genetics, man. They work every time.

 

Almonds and mint

I still feel dreadful. Should I go to work today, or not? I feel bad because The Poet who sits next to me is coming in today, and she usually has Fridays off because she is a fancy poet and has some kind of fellowship or something. On Fridays she is supposed to be home being deep and poetic and so forth. Instead she is coming in in case my arse dies, which it might.

Rose are red

Violets are blue

June sucks

My throat is still killing me. Has it been 72 hours? I know you are supposed to go to the doctor if your throat hurts for more than 72 hours. I learned that when--guess what--I did NOT go to the doctor and it turns out I had strep and then the dang strep wouldn't go away. That was a good time.

Obviously it eventually went away. I am not over here blind from scarlett fever or anything. Like Mary Ingalls.

Did you ever see a real picture of Mary Ingalls? She was so pretty on that dumb show, and yet in real life? Not so adorable.

Hi. I'm Mary Ingalls. What I have is some body in my hair.

Poor Mary. She needed Wen.

WHICH, by the way, I purchased yesterday and I hate my own self. But I was sitting there aching and throating and sleeping off and on, and when I wasn't sleeping I ached and throated watching the Michael Jackson trial. Which is riveting.

At any rate, at some point the infomercial for Wen came on, and I have watched it 848393 times. I watched it when Melissa Gilbert touted it (so why she didn't tell Mary about it is beyond me) (and you know how I enjoy it when people confuse that idiotic show with the good books) ("There was no Albert!?") and I am watching it now when they show the woman with fine blonde hair and the black woman whose hair looks like mine.

Maybe I am black and no one has told me.

 

Anyway, in the commercial everyone has fabulous hair and y'all know I rarely have fabulous hair. So I got the dang stuff. Did I mention I am poor now that I live alone? I DID email the statistics textbook company to ask when another book needs proofing and--yay!--I get another one in two weeks.

So get ready for me to complain about THAT every second until that sizeable check rolls in.

Anyway, that is how I am justifying my big $30 purchase of Wen. And of course if I like it, I have to find a way to continue to justify my use of Wen.

We'll wait for the day wen that happens. BAH!

Do I get the almonds with my order? What about the mint leaf? Ima SUE if I don't get the almonds and the mint leaf.

And by the way? If you were thinking of just lying around at home ingesting Propofol? Not such a good idea. Poor Michael Jackson. Did you hear that terrible audio of him slurring his words?

 

It just occurred to me that I'll bet I'm allergic to Wen. You know I am allergic to everything with a scent. Why can't I remember these things until it's too late? Earlier this year my mother brought over Cindy Crawford's Meaningful Beauty, the stuff where Cindy Crawford is out in a French field rubbing melons all over her face, and I could not have been more allergic.

Well. I guess it could have KILLED me. That would have counted as "more allergic." But my throat got all closey and my eyes watered and basically it was Meaningful Anaphylactic Shock, is what it was. That brings all the boys to your melons. Is what it does.

I guess I had better shower and see if I can drag myself to the workplace. At least it's Friday. It is Friday, right? I'll show up in jeans and it'll be Thursday.

Throatily,

June

Osama. Not so much with the aliveness anymore.

I will blog at you tonight when I get home after my first day, and if you know me in real life, be sure to call me and ask how my first day was, because I won't be super-drained or anything.

But really? A mansion? He was in a mansion all this time? Didn't we all think he was in a cave? I was kind of fine as long as he was kind of roughing it in a cave. Was he watching The Hangover on Netflix? This annoys me.

Who was putting him up? Did that yahoo get killed too?

Was he ordering in? Did the Chinese delivery guy wonder if it was THE Osama getting the steamed pork every week?

The whole thing is fascinating and now I have to go to work in my new work outfit which includes Jessica Simpson shoes, and I am sorry, girlfriend makes her some cute shoes.

Was he watching QVC? Did he ever see any Jessica Simpson shoes?

A mansion. Hmpf.

 

June 2 Love You

Somebody broke into my work email and sent all sorts of girl-on-girl action emails to my old bosses and such.

Nice. I am certain my conservative female choirmember ex-boss has always wanted to see Lez2LoveYou2, and now it has been added to her repertoire.

Can it live up to the original, is what all the critics are asking.

Also, I just went to the mailbox and had a check from my dad (thanks, dad) (I am 45 and getting checks from my dad), a freelance check, and a gift from one of my oldest friends. Don't you love good mail days?

She sent me a cookbook on how to eat clean, which I have been wanting, and also some soup recipes because of my whole can't-eat-soup-ack-MSG thing. I am a pain in the ass.

Speaking of ass, I am in love with Pippa, I have decided. I mean, I still love Kate more than anything on planet Earth, don't get me wrong, but Pippa rocked it yesterday, didn't she? Both that bridesmaid's dress and then the emerald evening reception dress.
Was she always hot? Did she just get hot for the wedding? Is Kate mad that Pippa stole the show? Do you think Pippa might want to star with me in Lez2LoveYou3?

She is rockin'. Crush on the Pippa. Do you think Harry did the walk of shame back to his room at the Marriott from Pippa's room this morning? Did they exchange embarrassed glances at the buffet room this a.m.?

I have to go. My new job starts in two days and I have done nothing but work on this book and watch this wedding and the house is a mess and I own approximately two items that are work-appropriate, so I must finish this stupid stupid stupid statistics textbook and head to the store to pick up worky clothes. And shoes. At my last job you could wear whatever you wanted so I bought 78 pair of silver flip-flops.

Not so much at this job.

Tomorrow I have an announcement to make this is kind of exciting. I want to wait one more day to make sure it is still going okay before I tell the world. I cannot keep it to myself any longer.

Comment of the week goes to a conversation between Amish Annie and that always-chipper Siren.

Love,

June Arthur Phillip Louweeee. Of Cambridge. Of the loving-Pippas Phillip Louwees of Cambridge.

Goin' to the chapel. Which is 8593055 miles long.

Oh, isn't this the best day ever?!

When my alarm went off at 4:50, Tallulah was all, "You have got to be joking." She lifted her head off the pillow, rolled her eyes at me, and went back to bed. Edsel followed me because he has the energy of 10 hummingbirds.

Anyway, I got on my accouterments for Peg's house:

Which along with my pajamas included my QVC Kate Middleton engagement ring and my wedding veil.

And let me tell you something. Walking over to Peg's in this ensemble at 5 a.m. was one thing. Walking back home at 9:00? People should really watch the road more.

Peg was all proud to be an American with her pajams.

And she had quite the spread, so to speak, and I know these pictures are awful but dude, it was THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, and this was with my PHONE. At any rate, there were scones, and tea, and I made her make coffee which she detested me for, and there was bacon and strawberries and whipped cream.

But she had a spot on the couch all set for me.

And I do not know why I had a different blanket on each leg. IT WAS THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT! Did I mention that?

Anyway.

Here are my thoughts:

I love Prince Harry. I love how he turned around to look at Kate, and William was all being a rule-follower, and waiting until he was supposed to look at her, but Harry was all, screw that. He is so hot, Harry.

As is Pippa. Hello. Who could pull off that dress? That is the meanest bridesmaids dress in the history of time. And yet? She was stunning.

Queen Elizabeth was a marshmallow Peep. Could no one tell her that was not a good shade of yellow? And could she CRACK a smile when everyone is singing that they wish God would save her? I mean, it's kind of a nice wish. Cheer up, sister. You're wearing sunny yellow. Reflect it.

I hate to admit Camilla's dress was pretty.

I thought he would never get that ring on her finger.

Was the reverend or priest or whatever you call Anglican God guys lisping, or was it my scone talking? He was making me think of the guy in Princess Bride. "Wuv, twue wuv."

Okay, and best of all? Sarah Ferguson was not invited, so she said, okay. Let me show you what Ima put my daughters in, then. I do not know if it was Eugenie or Farfernugel, whatever the other one is named, but the one in beige looked like Cindy Lou Who.

I have to go, because I have to WORK. On my DAY. I KNOW! I should totally be at Harry's throwdown later today.

Less of Edsel to love

Just took Edsel in for his tutoring. Francis' vet will be here at 10:00.

In the meantime, I was Googling dog neutering and found this site.

I guarantee you the only people who ever purchased Neuticles for their dog were m-a-l-e. And berserk.