Bye Bye, Pie!

Bye Bye, Pie!

A funny thing happened on my way to quitting this blog. And if you have to hear that original phrase "a funny thing happened on my way to..." one more time will you stab yourself in the head? Because I just provided it for you. Here's your drink sword.

I was going to stop blogging because (1) I've been doing it for five and a half years and (vii) I felt like my life was more private now and plus (c) I felt like this blog wasn't as good without Marvin in it. I mean, let's face it. Me being annoyed with Marvin was funny. Go look at this post. Or this one.

Or this conversation:

"God, I wish I had a Bud Light," I said. Because I am from Michigan. Our first instinct is for a domestic beer. Sue us.

"You want to be a firefly?" asked Marvin, who have I mentioned 20 times is hard of the hearing?

"Not a BUTT LIGHT. A BUD LIGHT. BUD LIGHT ," I told him.

Really looking forward to when we're 80.

I mean, come on. Marvin annoyingness was good stuff.

And I feel like now I have so much I CAN'T say, out of respect for the privacy of the 20 men I'm banging. Okay. I am not banging 20 men. But there was a whole boy I saw for awhile that you never heard one word about, because telling about it would have been scandalous.

I know!

My point is, I felt like this blog was losing something. Because I couldn't be as transparent. And 50% of my funny had moved out, gotten itself a girlfriend and sent me divorce papers.

So I decided to quit. And I meant it! As much as I ever mean things. I mean, I always make decisions and then say, "Oh, man. I should have gone the other way." And I was doing that as soon as I told all y'all all about not blogging.

"I'm nervous about you not blogging anymore," said ...friend, who does not annoy me the way Marvin did and therefore does not provide hilarious blog fodder. Which I just typed "doffer" and what the hell is "doffer"?

"Your blog is so much a part of who you are." he said. "And besides, it kind of seems like you like having an audience."

...!

Does that--well--does that...seem good? I need an audience? I mean, I totally do, but geez, how did I make that obvious in the four and a half months I've known ...friend? You often hear men describing their ideal woman: "Well, she has to be slender, large hoots, blonde hair, and really crave an audience."

Just because my dream job is go-go dancer.

Anyway, if HE was nervous, so was I. The closer I got to this day, the more sort of despondent I got. And then you sent me such nice emails, and comments, and told me not to go and I will tell you what. By yesterday I was standing there beside myself. Which was really annoying, because then Gertrude had to feed two of me at that funeral luncheon.

Really, I didn't know what I was going to do. I was feeling like maybe I really DIDN'T want to quit my blog. Because ...friend is right. At this point it's so much a part of who I am. And maybe I still DO have things to say. And maybe it still IS funny. I'll just have to adjust this blog to be sans Marvin like I adjusted my life to be sans Marvin. Which would be a lot easier to do if you TOOK HIS PHOTOS DOWN AT YOUR HOUSE, MOM.

So there I was, waffling, when I got an email yesterday. "Dear June, My name is Whoo-de-Bloo and I am a columnist for the Greensboro News & Record. I wanted to do a story on your blog, but are you really quitting?"

...! And yes, I have now had TWO annoying "...!"s in my post, but it's kind of a dramatic day.

So the next thing you know old Jed's a millionaire, and also I had written her, "No. I'm not quitting."

And the decision was made. And you know what? I woke up this morning 20 times lighter than I have been for a week. I was so gleeful, getting on here to tell you. And yes, I do realize I am annoying, being the Clash, not knowing whether to stay or go. Sue me. Then get me a Bud Light.

I have no idea what Ima do. Am I gonna post all the time? Am I gonna post about every date I go on, screw the privacy of the 20 men I'm banging? I do not know.

(Dear ...friend. I swear to god I am not--oh, forget it. You know it's just for my much-needed audience that I say these things.)

I just know that this blog, with all of you as a part of it, might be the love of my life.

And in conclusion, I spent over SEVEN HOURS making this end-of-my-blog video. And I realize now it's kind of a middle-of-my-blog video, but dudes. SEVEN+ HOURS. Could you watch it anyway? Thanks.

And thanks for being a part of my dumb blog.

 

ATL

Do you love this song? I always forget I do till I hear it and then I say, Ooo, I love this song.

 

In other news--not that what songs I love isn't pressing, hard-hitting news--several faithful readers of this blog schlepped to Atlanta Airport yesterday to visit my old pal Hulk while he had a layover.

Snicker. I just said layover.

He and his daughter, Not Chloe, are headed to Disneyland. World. Whichever the eff is in Florida.

In all the years I lived in LA, I never went to Disneyland. World. Whatev. People always said, "Oh, June, you'll love it!" but the part where I am middle-aged and child-free made me think otherwise. Why the hell do I want to see a bunch of mascots running around a crowded park?

How did I get off on this tangent? Oh, Hulk. Laying over.

So Faithful Readers Fay, Beverly and her broken elbow (it's elbow, right? Who is a terrible listener? She broke something after a pedicure. Slipped on those shoddy slippers they give you), Tee,

(here's Tee with her Hulk sign. She is a giant.)

and Sadie, who all live Atlantaish, decided to stop by the airport and say hi. As you do. Because what's more convenient than Atlanta airport?

They brought Chick-fil-A to the Hulk and his offspring, because in Fay's words, Hulk had a Chick-fil-A-sized hole in his soul and just didn't know it.

Now I am craving it, even though I am supposedly boycotting them over the gay marriage thing. Look, gay people, I really do want you to be able to get married. I mean, that is my opinion and I will support you on it to the end. But dang, Chick-fil-A is good. Can I go back there if I promise to get y'all everything on your registries?

Of course, they close on Sundays so even if I gave in and turned my back on the homosexuals I would get bupkis today.

At any rate, I am glad my readers could bring fried food to the Not Chloe. Everyone needs a little hydrogenated fat when they are growing.

While the fabulous event was happening, Faithful Reader and Email Pal in Real Life to Whom For Some Reason I Tell All About My Love Life Fay was emailing me and giving me a play-by-play, while I sat at the fireplace sweeping ashes or proofreading my 9 million pages.

I had airport envy. Plus, I wanted to see Not Chloe's reaction to all these strange women descending on her dad.

But she seemed to take it in stride. In the back are Sadie in green and Tee in stripes. There is Fay, waiting to hear more about my romantic entanglements. This is kind of how I picture her. In suspended animation at the other end of my computer. Anyway, next to her is BrokeArm Beverly, then Not Chloe and Not Hulk.

Note the plaid-ish shirt in the foreground. They all put it on and sent photos and I was enormously attracted to all of them for just that one moment.

Who amore themselves? Is it my faithful Atlanta readers?

Anyway, I'm glad it all went off as planned and that no one dragged Hulk off and married him, as women who read this blog seem to be wont to do.

Of course, dragging Hulk off and marrying him would be impossible, seeing as he is already betrothed to his mom.

June. Dragging out the 2009 jokes since 2012.

June Gardens, gym rat

Can't talk long--I have to get to the gym. I know. You guys have spoken to me many times about my exercise bulimia. I mean, I just SAID I was going to the gym...never. In five years of writing this blog.

I did belong to a gym in LA, but you had to in order to get your driver's license there.

Friend in Real Life Kit--not that I have a kit that you put together and boom! you get a friend, which would be convenient, wouldn't it? Gee, I want to go to that new restaurant and everyone's busy. Hey! I'll get my Friend in Real Life Kit!

Am annoying today. It's the endorphins. They are pumping from all my 'roids.

My friend in real life, whose name is Kit, has a gym membership eight inches from my front door, and perhaps you wonder how I've managed to take photos out my front door without including a giant gym eight inches away.

Sryisly mom? Could be more annoyinger?

So she got a 30-day pass for me, Kit did, and asked me to join her at said gym. I have always wanted to join that gym, actually. It was the one Marvin went to all the time. Do you remember that? How he was always traipsing off to the gym at like 9 p.m.? Maybe you got here after Marvin. [A.M.] Anyway trust me. That happened a lot.

How did I pick a grownup cat and a baby cat who look so ridiculously alike? Kills me.

And in other nice-things-people-are-doing-for-me-because-people-are-nice-and-what-gives news, someone who reads this blog, with whom I have corresponded many times and become friendly with, emailed me a few days ago. Seems she kind of added up in her mind the whole year of shingles, dead cats, gone husband, surgery, lost job, broken heart, ass of a time I have been having and she wrote me.

"You know," she said, "I get frillions of miles from my job. I will never use them all. Why don't you go somewhere? Get out of town," she said, but not in that "get out of town" way people are always saying to me.

"Miles of what?" I wondered.

Anyway, my point is, I am going to HAWAII. And LOS ANGELES. To see my friends. Can you even stand this?

CAN YOU EVEN STAND THIS? Really. Can you? Because I am still in shock. Do you have any idea how bad I need to see my friend Renee, who had to go and move to Maui like it's pretty there or something? Renee was my best friend in LA, and we moved from there at the same time. Every story about us ends in us in hysterics on my kitchen floor, on in a spa's quiet room, or on a running trail. Or in a dressing room. Or at a hospital. Twice. Still. Hysterics.

I met Renee when we were both training for a marathon, back in 2000 when I was not a lumbering pituitary case. Do you like how I've blamed the pituitary and not chilupas? We were in a running group that met desperately early on Saturdays to run ludicrous numbers of miles.

My cat, Francis, had this thing called pica, where you eat stupid stuff, and his stupid thing of choice was plastic. I barely knew my running group, but there we were, the dawn barely breaking. "Huff," we'd say. Then "huff." I couldn't stand it so I broke the silence.

"I pulled a dry cleaner bag out my cat's ass before I got here this morning," I said.

Renee was the only one who had to actually stop running because she was laughing so hard. She was all doubled over and I said, Ooo, good audience. And a friendship was born.

Anyway. I am planning to go in August, in case I get this job for which I am interviewing. It is technically a 6-month-plus contract job (yes, mom, with benefits, through the agency) and so I thought I should plan for six months from now. I know that's a long way to wait but just the THOUGHT that IMA SEE RENEE, then IMA SEE LOS ANGELES AND ALICIA AND MY FRIEND DAVE AND IN-AND-OUT BURGER AND WHY IS MY PITUITARY ACTING UP is so exciting.

Does it seem like I am a person who gets really good and really bad things? Not just, oh, I won six dollars playing Lotto. Oh! I caught a cold.

Speaking of which, and then I have to pull on my sports bra and gee I hope it's clean (bah!), as you know I have this...friend, of whom I am not speaking in order to try not to JINX it like I have done with everyone else. On Sunday, Dick Whitman and I went to a movie, and it was a French movie with subtitles so needless to say the room was not packed, in fact two people were in the theater. Guess who one of the people was? Was it my...friend?

So we all sat together. It was beautiful.

Then last night, I went to the cool Carolina Theater with said...friend. It's one of those old wonderful theaters. My point is, we get in there, and WHO IS IN THE NEXT ROW? Was it Tall Boy? I mean, can I go anywhere and not run into someone I've dated? I've hardly been Fonzie this year. I haven't dated THAT many people. And yet here they all are, like it's This is Your Stupid Slutty Life or something.

Okay, I gotta hit the gym. I am going to end every post like that from now on.

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?

DOG FLOWERS!!!

Thank you, Faithful Reader Peter. I GOT DOG FLOWERS! Dying.

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.

 

 

Oh, is 2011 over? That's too bad.

Somebody might be snuggly-est kitty ever. She slept with the dogs and me last night. There was gonna be none of that "I'm sleeping alone in the guest room" crap for her. At one point I woke up and she was splayed across Edsel.

Nervous and cowardly. That's Iris in a nutshell.

Anyway, it's time for my end-of-year slide show, and I am proud to report I did it myself. In previous years I just selected pictures and Marvin created the whole thing, but I figured it out myself. June. Certified genius. Acme Certified Genius.

This was a C- year, and that was being generous, but it wasn't all bad. See photo above. Also I got to know Dick Whitman's mom. And I got my new computer. And Latisse. Plus my new job is cool.

And then there's all of you.

See? You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have the facts of life. The facts of life. (Fortunately that is not the song I play during this slide show. Although that would have been hilARious. It's by my friend Beth Thornley.)

 

Merry Christmas, 2011 Choking Hazard--Do Not Eat.

Do you think I have some kind of issue that I am taking time out from Christmas to blog? I think I have blogged every Christmas since I started this rather all-absorbing hobby, and for that? I am weird.

My mother and stepfather got here yesterday, and here is the part where everyone's gonna say, "Oh, your mom is so cute!" Yes. I KNOW my mother is cute, okay? And that I look nothing like her and that I am a dog. I realize that part. Did I ever tell you about my wedding day, when everyone stampeded to me to tell me, "Your mother looks beautiful." WHOSE DAY IS IT?

Anyway, I like how it looks like she is wearing a wreath on her head. Did you see my pink wreath?

June. Being a really-super-gay gay man at Christmas since, you know, birth. June. The Elton John of Christmas.

As has been the prevailing theme this year, my mother and stepfather immediately said, "Open one of your presents right away," so I did. It was a DVD player! As you may or may not know, I have not had one all year, and have lived like a cave woman, with my club and my loincloth and my pointy Wilma phone.

Mostly they had me open it so my beleaguered stepfather could put it together, and why are men always stuck with tasks such as this? And then after we all watched Its a Wonderful Life, for a new and different experience. We all said the lines before they got there, such as, "Say, brainless" and "George, why must you torture the children" and one wonders why we watch it when we could mime it in its entirety.

Also, and I hope you are holding on to your hat, but I commenced to cooking.

I KNOW!

Note my ease and naturalness in with kitchen implements. I made macaroni and cheese, and as I said in the comments, if any normal person made that for Christmas Eve dinner, people would say, "Oh, is she dying of something? That poor thing. She cobbled together what she could." But when it's ME, my family was all. WOW! Get the CAMERA! There's FOOD in the kitchen and stuff!

I know, right? Who is a chef? Low expectations, people. You gotta underachieve and then everyone appreciates you when you don't.

Nothing says yuletide like pink plates.

After dinner, we went to my neighbor Peg's church because going to TinyTown just seemed like too far to drive after my mother and stepfather had driven 558549399 miles and all. Peg is a member of the choir and I know a lot of her fellow Preses--when she has parties, her church friends drink 7&7s, which they call a "Pres," as apparently it's the Presbyterian drink of choice.

It was a really fancy church, and the pastor had on Burberry pants, I am not making that up. Eventually they handed out candles and dimmed the lights, and as I do every year, I said, "I'm having an aneurysm." Because what's more hilarious than that?

Anyway, my mother turned to me and with the wisdom of Solomon said, "We're going to sing Silent Night now."

Really? Do you think?

I do not have kids. In case you hadn't noticed that. So maybe I am wrong about this theory. But I think if you spend a few years teaching someone how to wipe their arse and to, you know, not breathe under water and not put their tongues in sockets, it's hard to turn that off.

"I was thinking we'd all break into Beer Barrel Polka," I said, loving myself for that as much as I do my annual aneurysm joke.

At the end of church, they gave us all angel ornaments.

Isn't that the most beautiful sentiment?

Anyway, today we, you know, opened our gifts, as one is wont to do on Christmas morning. And if you read this blog and sent me a gift, could you email me your address? I got so many lovely things, and some of you said, "Open it right away" and some didn't, and I am just telling you I need everyone's address to write thank-you notes and I don't wanna leave anyone out. So could you just do me that large favor, please? Thank you. Otherwise I will feel guilty for the rest of time.

What would have been lovely is being able to put my gifts under the tree all this time, then anticipate what they could be, like, you know, normal people do. People who don't have Edsels.

However, I am a person who has an Edsel, so everything had to be traditionally piled on the piano and corner cabinet. Just like in the days of yore.

Oh, and this is apropos of nothing, but my mother brought a chair that belonged to my grandmother. When Grammy owned it, it was kind of a burgundy naugahyde, and if my friend Iain is reading, he may recall making out with Beth on it circa 1980.

Santa came to the dogs' stockings, and I wonder if this picture could be more violently all-Christmas-all-the-time. I took this about three hours ago and Talu is at my feet now, STILL CHEWING, and she managed to steal poor Edsel's bone and has that under her foot, too. Because she is full of the Christmas spirit.

Santa also came to my stocking, via me getting something for me and putting it in there. Oh! Was I surprised. As are all of you, I'm certain. Wait, it's pink? It's vintage-y? It has a cat on it? And girly flowers? Who would have KNOWN?

I also got myself this, because I adore me and I adored this cup. Both items I got at my friend Kit's store (Design Archives, because the three Greensboro readers who read this are going to STAMPEDE there and make her a millionaire, thanks to me and my plugging).

Other people other than beloved me got me gifts. Seriously. I am so easy to buy for. Is it pink? Does it sparkle? DONE! The bracelet is from Aunt Mary. The rings are from my stepsister.

And remember in the fall, when I so blatantly guilted my mother into giving me a mud-trapping rug? Got it. Note the destroyed candy cane already mussing it. No idea where Talu is and why she is not viciously guarding it. She is probably in the other room castrating Edsel over the other bone.

Okay, I must go shower now and continue with Christmas. I hope yours is going swimmingly, unless you do not celebrate Christmas, in which case I hope your Sunday is easy like Sunday morning.

XO,

June

 

 

 

 

Of all the June Gardens, I'm the June Gardensiest. Or, your good deeds.

 

When I started the "let's do good deeds at Christmas" project a few years ago, I was able to list them all. If I did that this year, you'd have to cancel your own Christmas or Cha-neww-ka or pagan ritual with your family and sit here and read my blog for 47 hours.

And that's good, don't you think? All over the place we were out there doing nice things for each other. Like we're you know, supposed to. So here is a smattering, and yes I just said smattering, of some of the things y'all went out and did as you were wandering around on this planet. If your personal deed that you reported isn't in here it was nothing personal. And if you want to read them all, just read the comments starting after Thanksgiving till now, and also read all the entries on Pie on the Face on Facebook. See above reference to no family time.

Without further ado, because your hair is fine the way it is and yes, that DID make zero sense, here are some of your good deeds:

Today I was sitting next to a little old lady traveling alone who had a Kindle that had accidentally rebooted back to factory settings, and she didn't know how to re-register it so she could access her books. I did it for her and she was so grateful.

At Zaxbys, I attached a kind card (on which I had written 'use this for yourself') to a $20 and dropped it off at a table with a mom and six kids and just walked away without a word. She looked like she really needed a break.

I brought in a lb of freshly ground snooty coffee and left it in the breakroom here at work. The usual coffee here is whatever is delivered in pre-measured envelopes.

We were sitting at a highway construction site where the guy stands with his stop sign on a pole until all the oncoming cars get through, then he waves you through. I had some miniature Hershey bars and Kisses in the car and as we crept by him I handed him a handful of chocolate. He beamed like a kid. It was so cute. He tucked them in his pocket and patted his pocket.

Bought a new rolling pin today for a little old man who was looking for one in our thrift store recently. (We had none that day.)

While downtown, I fed all the meters that were running low. I has a ton of change.

I was tutoring at the high school when a girl asked me if I had any lotion because her hands were so dry they were bleeding and none of the boys had lotion (we were in ROTC.) I did, so I gave her my (almost) new tube to keep.

I haven't done a RAoK on my own yet but did join a group from the office to adopt a family. We collected enough money to go above the suggested amount and got them all nice gifts. They haven't had any christmas presents for the last 2 years.

When the DISH tech guy was here today, he admired my horse door stop so when he left I gave it to him.

 I paid for the person's meal behind me at Chick-Fil-A yesterday.

Yesterday I had a Christmas card delivered to my house that was meant for the elderly, widowed lady down the street. I walked it down to her house where I saw her newspaper still laying on the sidewalk at 5 p.m. I gave her the card and newspaper. She said she was afraid to go out to pick it up in all the rain we had yesterday for fear of falling. That was a teeny, tiny RaoK, but Ima set her newspaper on her porch table every morning from now on.

A lady came up to me in a parking lot and asked if I knew where a soup kitchen or church was, she was trying to get something to eat for her and her two girls. The man I was talking to told her he would buy them a meal, so I gave her forty dollars and she started to cry, now I wish I would have done more.

I was in a small aisle with a lady in a wheelchair cart. She saw me looking at some potholders that were out of her reach and she asked if I would mind handing her one of them. So I did.

I scooped up a little black pekingese that was lost and drove around harassing strangers for an hour until I found somebody who knew somebody who knew how to contact somebody who would have a way of finding the owner. The little smashed-in-face cutie is back with her family this evening.

I won an overnight stay at a local Holiday Inn. The room is a family suite with two queen beds and bunk beds. Since my children are grown, I gave the gift certificate to a friend with young kids. They will totally rock those bunk beds and the hotel pool.

The man behind us in line had no cash to pay for a meal and they didn't take credit cards. He looked a little down on his luck so I asked the lady if I could pay for his burger and twirly fries. He never knew it was me.

A friend I work with recently lost her mom and she's having a hard time with the holidays approaching. This week we have some shared responsibilities, and I took them on for both of us. She's off the hook!

I could tell by caller ID that the call was from a l.o.n.g. talker who is boring as hell but she lives alone and a long way away...so I answered it and just let her talk for a half hour.

I bought snacks for the person in line behind me at the gas station and I have gone out of my way to be extra friendly to cashiers when I go Christmas shopping.

I have an autoimmune disease and belong to a forum board for folks with said disease. I haven't been on it in many months. Last evening I logged on and responded to all the new postees who are just diagnosed and scared and looking for encouragement and connection.

Today I paid off someone's lay-away at K-Mart. There were toys and boots and a coat on the list for both boys and girls. It made me happy to do it.

My husband and I gave $60 to one of our employees who has a young daughter and no money for gifts. She just got away from a bad relationship, got her license (she is 24), is buying a house and has like $10 left after bills every week.

I gave money to a homeless person sitting on the corner at a busy intersection who was petting his adorable and sweet-looking pit bull.

After dancing till the wee hours with some friends, I sleepily agreed to go out to breakfast with them. Sitting next to us in a booth was a man I figured was homeless. He was and he hadn't eaten all day. The local shelters are all full and he was trying to stay warm (we're in Minnesota) till the Mall opened. I visited with him a bit, bought him breakfast, and left him with a gift card so he could stay in the restaurant all night.

I took 80.00 to Goodwill and asked the checker (I know her) to pass 20.00 to four different folks. Asked her to pick folks with kids.

Today at Petco adoptions, I met a little old lady with her little old dog. She said the dog had wandered up onto her porch, skinny and mangy, about a month ago. Dog's fur is coming back now and they are fast friends. The tail wags slow and content and continuous. The lady realized that her wallet was not in her purse, and was putting back the dog food and treats she had intended to purchase just as I walked up. She looked a little upset. I grabbed the treats and a bigger bag of the food and paid for them.

I was at the bank and the nice lady who is the head teller? She complimented my perfume, and I just happened to have a tiny bottle of it in my purse? So I gave it to her!!

A friend is going through a tough time with her boyfriend and I sent her an anonymous care package with chocolate, gummi bears, a girly movie (27 Dresses), and trashy magazines.

At a Starbucks before a business meeting a woman in the parking lot who looked very stressed stopped me & said, "Could you buy me a cup of coffee? My car was stolen & I'm waiting for the police." I normally would have thought  scam & said no. But, honest to God, the words "June's blog" popped in my head. So I said yes & bought her the coffee. As I was leaving, the police pulled up & she was telling them her story. Thanks June for making me be nice & trusting!!

I stopped into the local Home Depot to pick something up, and saw this woman and the HD guy trying in vain to get her just purchased fake Christmas tree into her car. It was SO not going to fit. I appreciated that she was still being nice to him, even though she was obviously frustrated. I had him load it into my truck and I took it to her house for her and got it into her living room.

Yesterday when my sweet little 88 year-old retired undertaker friend brought me a poinsettia, instead of a handshake and smile, I gave him a smooch on the cheek. He was pretty happy, I think.

I went through the donation box and selected some nice new Q-tips and baby shampoo; it makes my hair soft...(Cosmo's Dad. A dink we can count on, year after year.)

Gift of the Junegi. I realize I make less and less sense as time goes on.

In case you were thinking I was going to stampede to the topic of gifts I have received from people and am just forgetting to tell you that Roger came home, that is in fact not the case. As there is still no Roger. But thanks for bringing up that painful topic.

In fact, last night, Tallulah, Edsel and I were on the couch, catching up on another stunning episode of Real Housewives, and I had my cat trap set up on the porch with my dirty laundry on top of it.

Kick 'em when they're up, kick 'em when they're down.

You're welcome. I hate that song.

Anyway, I thought I heard a meow. I sat up. Then I thought I heard a second, insistent,"MEOW!" I TOSSED the ludicrous Christmas throw off of me--and really how could a Christmas throw be anything but ludicrous--sent my bowl of nutritious Tostitos flying, because when I watch Real Housewives I like to feed my body and soul, and flew to the door.

No cat. I'm telling you, I HEARD it. There was no cat howling at Kyle's white party on the show. It was not coming from my TV. So now I'm hallucinating on top of everything else.

Where is that cat? Why won't he come home? I just want him to come home. I mean, yes. I will beat him mercilessly, but after that I will be so glad to see him.

ANYWAY, today's topic is gifts. And how it is better to receive. Because friends and faithful readers alike have been sending me things for Christmas and then telling me, "You have to open it now. You can't wait till Christmas," which means on Christmas day Ima be sitting under an empty tree with crickets chirping. Because someone got me a cricket farm. Bah!

Mrs. Oh, who could not love herself more if she tried, made me a Barry Gibb ornament crafted from a starfish. I totally put it right in front on my tree, and when Barry Gibb comes over to propose to me he will be so happy to see it. Did I mention I am hallucinating?

My friend Melinda? Of the I-adopted-Ladybird Melindas? Made chocolates. And did I mention she's a chemistry professor, as I am? So there's a little image of the formula or whatever for serotonin on the package. Her Christmas card also had a chemical formula on it. Who sleighs me? See what I did, there?

And she has a little list of each of the delicious flavors she made. I am trying to be good and not eat all of these and keep some for when my guests arrive for Christmas.

Dear Guests, I have already eaten 47 pieces of Melinda's candy. Don't get your hopes up. But it was really good and you should be happy that I was happy. Merry Christmas. Love, June.

My best friend Pal from MA and I were on the phone last night. "Open two of your gifts," she commanded. "Open the two narrow boxes." "The ones that look like shoe boxes?" "They ARE shoe boxes." Look at those shoes. Are they screaming, "JUNE! JOOOOOOOON!" in giant silver letters? Who knows me? Who knows me too well?

Okay, you cannot tell, but these have GLITTER all over them! It's like Laura Petrie went all slutty all of a sudden! I am TOTALLY WEARING THEM to work today and I don't even care. Stripper Laura Petrie is STEPPING OUT. So excited about my new shoes.

edsul simlurlee excited. could mom get fork for edsul?