I'm gonna tell you what I did this weekend, and it'll be just like when you're at the coffeemaker at work, and you ask someone how their weekend was, and they drone on about it for 78 minutes. So get that fake, pained smile on your face and prepare to say, "Uh-huh!" a lot as if you're interested.
On Saturday, as I announced earlier, I schlepped out to Chris and Lilly's feed store to get my feed on. I had to drive way out in the country, and it was the kind of spring day that makes spring the best season ever, which it is, if you ask me. Y'all can shove stupid fall up your asses. All the dogwoods were in bloom, and those redbuds that I don't know why they call them redbuds because they're purple, and oh! Everything was lovely.
Chris was in front of his store right when I got there, and I had no idea it'd be so huge! Insert hilarious "That's what Lilly said" joke here. It was teeming with people, and there was, you know, feed, which hadn't ocurred to me. There was llama feed, horse feed, and tons of stuff to feed your dog.
I got pig ears for my dogs, which is probably like getting junk food but I'm not gonna hear it from you. Don't swine to me about junk food for dogs. Tell it to the hoof. And by the way, when I brought them home, Edsel would not drop Bluuu, his best most favorite better-than-mom-even toy, to eat his pig ear, so I threw his in his bed and Tallulah had two pig ears on Saturday, is the moral of that story.
I also bought four hanging plants for my front area, not that I'm hanging plants off my ample bosoms, and I have no idea why all my jokes are from 7th grade today. But the BEST part of the whole thing was there were (sit down) (are you ready?)
The only people obsessing over the baby chicks were four years old, and me. After I knocked all those pesky kids out my way, I kept trying to grab one up, and guess who's elusive? Guess who slips away like trying to pick up mercury off the floor? Geez.
No, you're welcome. My gift is my song and this one's for you.
"I don't even see cute chicks. I see dollar signs," said Lilly, who's turned into a hard-core entrepreneur. She's this generation's Mr. Potter, only way cuter. Oh, and who got her prebaby body back already because she's 12? Who's as thin as a rail and hot, still? Really, though, she was a pretty fit pregnant person to begin with. Why do I have friends who are perfect? I should meet more screwed-up people so I look better.
Oh! And I'm droning on about this so much that I didn't get to the next part yet, which is where I got in the car and headed to Moshi Moshi, where I will NEVER GO AGAIN, to get my hair cut. Once I got out of Chapel Hill, where the feed store is, and into Durham, where stupid Moshi Moshi is, the traffic was ridic.
Yes, I just said "ridic."
I called them. I know that my car phone is impressive to you, and I try not to brag. I got a recording, so I left a message that it was about 20 till 3:00 and I thought I might be late. After TEN MINUTES OF NOT MOVING IN STUPID STUPID TRAFFIC AND WHERE WAS I, LA? Cause if I'm gonna have LA traffic again, get me a celebrity in the next car and not this yahoo with the Confederate flag bumper sticker.
"Moshi Moshi!" someone chirped.
"Yes, my name is June, and I called awhile ago to say I'm coming from Greensboro and stuck in traffic."
There was a pause. "Yes, we got your message. We have a 15-minute window, ma'am."
A 15-minute window? Like, then your store sits in darkness? Where does it go? How do you get a breeze in?
"Well, as I said, I drove in from Greensboro and I'm doing the best I can."
"Well, where are you?" This person might want to consider a career in torturing spies, with the barking of the questions and the lack of any empathy whatsoever. "I don't know where I am," I told her. "I'm not FROM here, as I've said now twice, and my GPS is in my phone and all that's on my phone screen when I look at it now is this call..."
I called back at 3:14 to say I was two miles away and traffic was moving and my arrival time was going to be 20 after.
"You'll have to reschedule, ma'am."
You know, I understand they have a policy, and I'd be annoyed but I'd understand if they said nope, we can't give you a five-minute pass on our policy even though you just drove 50 miles to get your hair cut. I understand. I have no desire to make someone else wait on my account. But if this heifer had shown even a MODICUM of kindness, A MODICUM, I'd not have said what I said next, which is that I will never even CONSIDER going back to Moshi Moshi for the rest of my days.
Why would you take a job in customer service if you have no desire to, oh, serve a customer?
That night, I took my live and uncut hair to dinner with Ned
and his mom.
They both insisted my hair was cute despite no scissors touching it. After dinner (I got a pear and Gorgonzola salad with walnuts. 448583838 points.) we all meandered to the local bookstore, where Ned gave me this look:
and I got this book, which I AM LOVING.
Good gravy, y'all, now it's really late and I have no time to tell you about the REST of my weekend, which included an inch worm and also Cheerwine slushies. I will have to tell you the rest tomorrow and I will not say TUNNNNNNE in next time. But tune in next time.