There're a brief few days every spring where Peg's dogwood meets my redbud across our driveways, kind of a Hands Across America of blossoms, and it's so pretty, but it's been so cloudy that I wasn't able to capture it well. I hope it's sunny today. I never check the weather. I'm always stunned that people know what the weather's gonna be like. I'm all, "How do you KNOW that? Are you some kind of sorcerer?"
I prefer to be surprised. The druids never knew what the weather was gonna be, and they got along okay.
The first time Marvin and I ever Did It was the same day as Hands Across America, which has always sort of cracked me up.
Hi, Marvin's mom, whom I think still reads my blog.
I really have no idea who reads this stupid blog or not. Ned told me one of his ex-girlfriends still does, and I was surprised, but HEYYY, Not Harriet! I've always liked you. Also, his uncle, the nicest guy on earth, still does, too, because Ned told me he asked about Tallulah and how we were doing here and all that. Hey, Ned's uncle. You're welcome for that inside guff on the Hands Across America thing.
Who else reads me who knows me in real life? The other day there was a little exchange between commentors, and one of them said, "How do you know June? I went to high school with her." I was all, You DID? I still have no idea who that was, but Dear Person I Went to High School With: My readership extends beyond people who know me. Yeesh. Arrogantly, June.
Anyway, tell me. Tell me how you know me, and where you're living, and if you DON'T know me, tell me where you live. I always like to see where everyone is. Makes me feel cozy, just all of us snuggled up here across America. OR THE UNIVERSE.
How do you know June. GEEZ.
We had a relatively quiet weekend here at house of pie, and I hate myself for calling it that. After I last wrote you, the only other social thing I did was go see My Big Fat Greek Wedding II, electric boogaloo, and sometimes it's nice to be broken up with Ned. Because he would RATHER DIE, he would RATHER VOTE FOR DONALD TRUMP, than go see a movie like that.
The only issue I had with it was Lot's Wife made the popcorn. I know you've missed me pulling that joke out for a change. I ate only half the bag, it was that salty. Maybe Mr. Salty got a job at the theater. Hey, times are tough. I wonder if he resents having to serve popcorn when he spent his whole career being a competitive snack. I wonder if he's twisted up inside over it.
I didn't see a human pretzel making the popcorn, but what I did see was that guy who works there who looks just like a Buddha. He's thin, but he has this Asian, serene face and he looks like he should be on a necklace or something. He also gets your snack items serenely, and guess who is not serene when he does that?
In fact, it was crowded as shit at that theater yesterday, and I was all, Who ARE you people? Isn't this supposed to be the Bible Belt? Shouldn't you be at all-day worship talking about a sepulcher? What the fuck with you ham-less movie-goers? It was 2:30 in the afternoon. I thought I'd have the place to myself. But no. Line out the goddamn door.
After that line, there was a line for popcorn served by Mr. Salty and Buddha, and I was two families back when I saw this woman in the next line on one of those scooter things for one leg, you know, the thing people who have an injury use to scoot around on with the other good leg? She had that contraption, her popcorn, and a beer in her mouth.
"Do you want some help?" I asked her.
"Oh, I would! Thanks!"
I walked her back to theater three while she talked about her injury and how hard it was to navigate and how she didn't know this theater served beer and that she was so excited to have a beer, as it had been months. She was going to see some terrible movie with death in the title, I forget what it was, not a cerebral film such as My Big Fat Greek Wedding II, and anyway when I got back the line had dissipated and I was rewarded with Salt Block II, Electric Boogaloo popcorn.
We really need to bring back the scarf-rolled-up-tied-around-the-forehead look. I think that was a look during Hands Across America. And now you're picturing me in a passionate embrace with Marvin, a scarf tied 'round my perm. Yes, there was a perm. Of course there was.
It took me the whole decade to finally say, Hey, Curly, why the perm? Doesn't this seem redundant?
Anyway, it was okay. The movie, I mean. The Greek Wedding movie. They got absolutely everyone to come back to be in it, which was pretty cool. Even the old grandma. As opposed to the infant grandma.
In case you were worried about Edsel, you can see he's doing great. Now he's melting off chairs; he's Salvador Dali dog. Poor Edsel. It's the persistence of memory.
Before Tallulah's untimely demise that was my fault, I filmed her doing just everything. Snoring, wagging at me, harrrring. Yesterday I missed her so much that I got on the computer and played the "Harrrrr" video, and when Edsel heard her voice he ran into the room. Then I felt like a dick for doing that to him.
I'd better go dry my hair and get a scarf around my forehead.
Don't stick your finger in that boogaloo, it's electric.
June "Shabba-Do" Gardens
[Don't forget to say how you know me or where you're from.] [Bracketedly, JOOOON]