Every morning, Edsel is like some kind of not-bright horse at the starting gate. As soon as I wake up, it is ALL HE CAN DO, ALL HE CAN DO, to wait till I ask if he's ready to get up. "Are you ready to get up?" means food AND outside, so you can see how this is heady material.
Today I got the brilliant idea to film his rocketing off the bed, as it is hilarious, and today, for the first time in four years, he got off the bed like a normal dog.
Enjoy that video. It's fascinating.
Why they gotta do that to us? I like how Tallulah looks out the window dramatically, as though she's in one of those intros they do on Oprah, where they film the person at home and tell you about their woes. Inevitably, the person looks out a window longingly.
God, I wish Oprah would take my dogs under her wong, throw 'em a few million.
Her wong. Goddammit. WING. WING! I don't even want to anticipate what Oprah's wong is.
She has Goldens and Cocker spaniels. You don't see any half-Pit mutts at Oprah's. Probably Oprah's Venetian blinds aren't broken, either.
Oh! Speaking of Oprah, I have lived this entire week on $21. I know! I got paid last night, thank God, and my Purple Clover check came in too, thank God's handkerchief. I have no idea why I thanked his handkerchief but I'll bet he has good ones, like Rhett Butler. Do you think he monograms them with just a G, or...?
You know, when I was younger, I said, "I want to marry Lloyd Dobbler." Lloyd Dobbler was John Cusak's character in Say Anything. If you haven't seen that movie, okay, I teach tolerance. But while you're up, go fuck yourself. You have no idea what you've missed. It is completely quotable, the whole thing, from beginning to end.
Lloyd, Lloyd, all null and void.
My POINT is, I did. I DID marry Lloyd Dobbler. And then about 15 years later, I said, "This is bullshit. I don't want to be married to Lloyd Dobbler. I want Rhett Butler."
And then I went off and found a nice Southern boy who knows what I look like without my shimmy.
Oh my god and his handkerchief, wasn't I talking about how to live on $21 a week? I should totally write a book. Here it is.
HOW TO LIVE ON $21 A WEEK by June Gardens.
Get a boyfriend who feeds you a lot. Love, June Gardens.
I mean, don't even feel sorry for me. It is 100% my fault. Last week I decided I could not turn 49 without some new Botox in my head, so I checked my accounts and stocks, I crunched my numbers, and I said, Oh, I have HUNDREDS of dollars! HUNDREDS! Go, June, it's yer berfday, gonna Botox like it's yer berfday, poison forehead like it's yer berfday.
So I went. I paid. And I'd have frowned if I could, because guess who neglected to notice that the check she wrote her lawn guy hadn't cleared yet?
DUN DUN DUNNNNN.
And then I said, Okay, so I have $21. My Purple Clover check will be here any second. And then guess what did not come till yesterday?
DUN DUN DUNNNNN.
Fortunately, I had bread and oatmeal and tortillas, and I am on the very opposite of the Paleo diet. I'm on June's Frozen Frown Lines Diet. I ran out of peanut butter and cream cheese, but I still had butter. One would hope I'd have lost weight living on $21 and bread, but all these carbs have bloated me up like a tick.
My forehead looks fantastic, though.
Okay, I must go. Tonight Ned and I are seeing Almost Famous at our old movie theater, and if you haven't seen it, okay, I teach tolerance.
But go fuck yourself.