Bye Bye, Pie!

The one where PJ wears a June suit

Tallulah is sick, and we are going to the vet at 11:00. All she wanted to do last night was squish up next to me and have me hold her hot pitty head. Do dogs' heads get hot when they have a fever? Cause I swear she felt hot.

Anyway, further reports as developments warrant. Also, that floor is GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME. I just was on my knees scrubbing it on Friday, due to the bird carcass that had been in there. And look at it. It looks filthy because of the chipped paint. What was it I was gonna do with it, again?

So here it is Monday, and you may have a Nedflix to look forward to, because we saw the dumbest movie ever made in the history of time ever, at all, ever, yesterday, and I really think it needs to be Nedflixed. So we'll see if Ned'll write one.

I bought a used exercise bike off of Craigslist and it arrives tonight, and Ned is coming over to make sure the deliverer of said bike is not some common murderer, but rather a rare distinctive murderer. The point is, I will nag Ned about Nedflixing that brilliant, sensical, not-at-all-dumb movie tonight.

(Did I ever tell you about when my grandmother was young, and she ordered a rare steak because she thought "rare" meant precious and special? She nearly died when they slapped a big bloody slab of meat in front of her.)

I figured an exercise bike would be a good way to work out with the plantar fasciitis. I know it's what my pal Dick Whitman does, and he looks good. He also eats three peanut M&Ms and then cuts himself off, but I like to think it's all exercise bike, all the time.

But none of this is why I gathered you here today. I GATHERED you because I am finally gonna answer Faithful Reader PJ's questions that she asked me in the comments the other day. Here are her Qs again:

June, I would love to hear about pivotal moments in your life. I would like to hear about how you think your sense of humor developed and who influenced you. Pets! What is the most exciting that that has ever happened to you? What's your biggest challenge in life? Books! What you're reading, recently read.

PJ is clearly obsessed with me and would like to skin me and wear a June suit. And I am just fine with that. Any attention is good attention, if you ask me.

Let's see. When I think of pivotal moments in my life, the following come to mind.

I was, believe it or not, a very shy kid. My parents wanted me to go to an integrated school, because it was the early '70s and that's what you did. So we lived in this mixed neighborhood, and I am glad about that because, for example, I never think the way a friend of mine does: She told me that if a black man is approaching her and no one else is around, she is more afraid than if a white man were approaching her.

That is unbelievable to me. I mean, sometimes men are walking toward you and you just get a bad feeling about them. Once when I lived in Seattle, I was doing a work errand and I cut through the park IN THE MIDST OF DOWNTOWN in the MIDDLE OF THE DAY, and this (white) man was approaching. Every fiber of my being got tingly and alarmed. Lucky for me, someone came out of the park to my left, and do you know the guy who'd been approaching me saw that person coming from my left, and did an abrupt turn BACK INTO the woods? It was so effing creepy.

Anyway, my point is, I got sent to this mixed-race school and that was fine, but by third grade I was pretty much the only white kid, and all the other kids resented me because we were more financially stable and I had lots of clothes and so on. So I got picked on A LOT, and eventually my parents sent me to a private school, and then I had a whole NEW crop of adjustment/fitting in problems, so I decided to become funny.

Am still trying.

I guess another pivotal moment was when I was 12, my parents had just gotten divorced, because turning 12 isn't hard enough, and at a family get-together, I fell off a balcony and got very hurt and nearly died. I think this accounts for my personality, which is sort of nervous, I think. (That was a line from Annie Hall, but still. It applies.)

I see that I have only answered one of PJ's Qs and we are on, like, paragraph number 679 of this post, so I'd better wrap it up and answer her others tomorrow. But I think other pivotal moments in my life were when I left Michigan and headed to Seattle, knowing only one person there. It was one of the greatest things I ever did. I'd been wanting to, you know, NOT LIVE in Michigan since I was 13, and at 27 I finally did it.

There was also a horrible, terrible, obsessive, all-consuming, not healthy, not good relationship I was in when I was young, and I was completely obsessed with the person but we made each other absolutely miserable, and I made the decision to get out of that relationship, and it was SO HARD TO DO. He would call in the middle of the night, or come over and knock on the door, and I would lie in my bed and will myself not to get up, because if I did we'd only get back together for the 394584829494th time and it'd start all over again. The part where I was able to really break up with him? Pivotal. Did not know I had it in me to be that strong.

Also, am certain my divorce was pivotal, but I don't have enough distance yet to see how. I DO know that I cannot remember a lot of 2011, when Marvin left. Isn't that weird? I look at old posts from then, or old emails, and I think, " I said that? I went to that place? I have zero recollection of that at all." So, yeah. Probably pivotal.

I will catch you all tomorrow, and I will fill you in on poor Talu's illness. She keeps sort of shaking her head, like she's Katherine Hepburn, and also smacking her lips. She ate this morning, but she had the enthusiasm of a tree sloth.

Poor Lu.

Okay, then. Pivotally, June.

I can't even

The rest of the weekend was inexplicable, but don't worry. I will go into excruciating detail tomorrow. In the meantime, what's with my 3-D bosoms? Oh, also? Always use sunscreen.

(c) Daniel Boone Photography

So natural

Look how horrified Chris and Lilly's baby is. to get away from beeg hairs pleese. she not maturnil.

I might have to work late, but if I don't, I will come home and blog about makeup. I know! I really know how to build the anticipation and leave you begging for more.

Lady Madonna June, out.

June and the Water Tower. Also, "fur."

How is everybody doing? It's rainy here, and I have a migraine for the FIFTH DANG DAY IN A DANG ROW, and forgive my rough language. A few weeks ago I was at my doctor and he gave me some samples of some new migraine stuff--new to me, and that's who matters, here--called Treximet, so today in my desperation, I got out the sample box.

I guess I could have read the, you know, box to see it only contained one tablet, but when I got a box this big I just assumed there'd be several pills in there.

Once I opened the box, I had to get the special protective wrapping off, which took an hour and 45 minutes. And hey! Did I mention my head hurts?

After that, apparently I had to fly to Michigan and go to my friend Dot's house and squeeze her. Because you know what a hugger I am. And then? After I've squeezed the Dot and so on?

Taa-daaaa! Say, here's your one pill. Also, one is the loneliest number that you'll ever do.

I mean, it just seems like a lot of hooo haa for one lousy pill. Is my point. Anyway, I finally took it and we'll see if it even works.

In the meantime, hi! I feel less awful than I did the other day, but just between you and me, I decided I should go back to my therapist. I saw her for awhile after my, you know, marriage ended, and finally I am once again so miserable that I decided to get back together with her. I called said therapist, and you know what must be a fun job? Therapy-ing the fun that is June. Am I sounding like Dooce, over here, with my sadness and my being mental and you know what's politically correct? Is the phrase "being mental."

My point is, she called me right back. Apparently she's just been by the phone, thinking of nothing else but when I'd call her or climb up on a water tower. Why is it when someone has a breakdown you always describe them climbing a water tower, when in fact you can be nutty right there on the ground? It's the same with how if you can't read something, you always say it's in Sanskrit. I mean, German would be just as hard for me to read, you know? Why Sanskrit?

Anyway, she said she had availability Saturday, and please see above re June and the water tower. Who has SATURDAY appointments? But the thing is, Edsel had a vet appointment as well on Saturday.
But the therapist said, "Oh, just bring him along. I love dogs!"

sighhhh

And that is how Edsel and I ended up in couple's therapy yesterday. To tell you the truth, Edsel and I have been having issues for quite a while, and he really needs to learn to talk more. I mean, I'm getting a little sick of getting home and not ONE WORD from him before he humps my leg.

Oh, and when Eds and I were checking out at the vet, this really pretty woman came in who was maybe my age, except attractive. If that weren't bad enough, she had a lovely perfect gorgeous Golden retriever named--

...wait for it. No one names their dog this, so.

--Bella. She was boarding Bella for the weekend.

So she stood there, all perfect with her perfect dog, while goofy Eds and my pretty self paid, and while she waited she kept hugging Bella.

"I sowwy," she said to the dog, kissing her. "I sowwy I leeeeveeng, Bellas. I sowwy."

Guess who was over her. Was it me, and also possibly Bella? Guess who was probably de-effing-lighted to be going to the kennel for two days in order not to hear the word "sowwy."

Good gravy.

After my Est session with Edsel, I dropped him off so he could think about his part in this relationship and I headed over to Winston-Salem, for a change, and dropped in on my friend Charlie. If you're just getting here or you skim like Faithful Reader Laura L, Charlie is a guy I am inexplicably friends with, seeing as he is in his 20s and single and all cool and artist-y and when we met I was married and still middle-aged and dowdy as I am now.

The point is, last August, Charlie was kayaking and slipped on a damn rock and is now paralyzed. Which guess what, sucks. I had visited him in the hospital awhile back but went to his apartment yesterday, where he lives with his most excellent girlfriend who is similarly in her 20s and more mature than me by about 10 million thousand eleventy billion times.

I gave him the money you all donated to him, as there was a fundraiser for him recently and some of you hit my tip jar. All told, I had a hundred dollars to take over there, and he was thankful to all y'all all.

I feel like going into detail about what his mood was like or what he had to say about his condition is, you know, kind of an invasion of his privacy, but suffice it to say, the whole thing 100% totally sucks ass, and I have every faith that he will eventually thrive and make the best of this stupid sitch. He's just that guy. He's determined guy.

I have to go, as Ned and I are going to a--wait for it, again--depressing movie about nuns and demonic possession and something, and say, who do you think picked THAT one? I wanted to see the happy wedding movie with Diane Keaton.

While I've been writing this, my head feels a bit better, so that's good. That was worth the Fort Knox packaging, I guess. Yeesh.

Talk at you tomorrow, dudettes. What if I just called you "dudettes" all the time? How soon till you stopped reading me? Don't go, dudette. Don't go.

Okay, June and her package, out.

With a fine, fresh scent.

Happy St. Patrick's Day! In honor of the Irish, I thought today I might cut soap.

 

Sorry I didn't write yesterday--I was cleaning my gutters. I KNOW! I was totally getting the older, handsome woman who can do it all vibe from myself. But in fact I COULDN'T do it all myself, because there are some spots where one would have to climb the roof to get to the gutter, and I was nervous enough about being up on a ladder and no one on earth knowing I was up there.

Ned was watching sporting events, and when he found out he was irritated with me. "What if you had fallen off and turned out to be dead?" he groused, annoyed because then he'd have to go back on OK Cupid, no doubt. But look. I did it, I lived, and it was kind of fun, to tell you the truth. There was even a little evergreen tree starting to grow right there on the gutter! I'm tempted to plant it somewhere and see if it grows. A Tree Grows in Greensboro. Somehow that's not as dramatic.

The dogs were delighted that I was working outside yesterday, because they spend much of their time being torn between wanting to be .009 inches from me and wanting to be outside barking at dogs who have the nerve to be in the other yards. This way they got to do both. I just painted that fence last summer. Maybe it was two summers ago. Still. Dang.

I dearly appreciate everyone's cheap-yet-sugarless grocery suggestions! I was so busy in the yard yesterday that I never got to the store, so I've had a lot of eggs and broccoli this weekend. Last night Ned and I went to our favorite lesbian taco restaurant where not one but TWO young hot couples were on hot lesbian dates, and I really can't figure out why Ned always wants to go there. The point is, I got the hamburger and took the bun off, and got a side salad and basically am barrel of laughs right now. I have book club today and have to bring a salad, so I'll go to the store then, and I have a little list of your ideas to take. Yay!

I had another migraine last night, though, so I don't know if this lack of sugar is making any difference at all. I do FEEL pretty good, though. I was going to say I feel stable, but I just cried at Ned's yesterday so even writing that makes me laugh.

Ned has a frowny face on the 23rd of every month, because whenever it's my...woman time, the time my Japanese flag is waving (copyright Faithful Reader Lety, who emailed me special to teach me that one), I end up crying in front of him. Once I cried because I decided I was a failure. Everything was going along swimmingly, and we were having dinner, and boom. I start crying at a restaurant. "I'M A FAILURE AT LIFE!" I wailed. And I kind of am. But I usually don't cry about it.

So yesterday Ned came in from making coffee and I was in a weepy heap on the couch. You know who's fun? Anyway, later that day I realized Scarlett had come to Tara and I had to let Ned know he needs to just put a frowny face and a question mark on each day of the month now. The first person to tell me to get my hormones checked gets a weepy dial from me at 3 a.m. I don't know why I say that, since I HAVEN'T had my hormones checked. But doesn't every woman get insane at this time?

Anyway. That about sums up the weekend thus far. Eggs, broccoli, gutters, tears. And here are the trees outside Ned's apartment. I remember going to his place for the first time last year, and him showing me how pretty the trees are when they bloom, and the whole time thinking, "That's great. We gonna make out soon?" I thought that through the dinner he made me, and the part where we had some kind of phony conversation and listened to music and pretended to be regular people. "We making out soon? When's he gonna make his move? Because if we don't make out soon, Ima die."

Maybe it's my hormones.

Maybe it's because I love this man to distraction.

Maybe it's Maybelline.

Anyway, have a good Irish-y day today.  Maybe in honor of the Irish, I'll drink a lot and cry. Ned will be stunned.

In which June humps Edsel and needs relationship advice

You know what I did last night? I humped Edsel. He's always JUMPING on poor Talu and humping her, and she shows her mean teef and then he gets scared and 17 seconds later he does it again. Because Edsel is brilliant.

So last night I was lying on the floor doing Tracy Anderson, and there went Ned's fantasy night, when Talu came over and rubbed her cute dog head on me to say hello. She's such a pleasant dog. She doesn't drool all over me and leap around like she hasn't seen me in 29 years, she just rubs her head on me. hi moomz.

But Edsel saw our exchange, so he stormed over and knocked his head into my arm, then humped Tallulah to show her she has SOME NERVE acknowledging me.

Well, that was it. I PAUSED Tracy Chapman, got right up and pulled Edsel's slim doggie hips right to me. "You wanna hump so bad? How do you like THIS?" hump hump hump. He was appalled. He put his ears down and looked back at me in awe. I think he had no idea anyone here could hump but him. He slunk away, stunned.

"How long before he's humping Tallulah again?" Ned asked me later that night. "Oh, he's violating her as we speak, I'm certain," I said. In the meantime, I hope no one reports me to animal welfare.

Ned and I went to the old movie theater we like so much and saw Easy Rider, which mostly consists of Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper going around being high on the gange. Also, who knew Jack Nicholson used to be cute?

Afterward, we went to get something to eat because I had worked out and hadn't had dinner and I was the cranky hungry. I got tuna, and Ned ONCE AGAIN mentioned how the bread wasn't really a good part of Project Emaciation, and if I could have humped Ned into submission I would have. Who told him he had a voice in Project Emaciation? "You know what I'm doing," he said his mantra smugly, "is eating less and exercising more." If he says that ONE MORE TIME, he's gonna be breathing less and bruising more.

In case anyone cares, though, I've lost a pound. Take THAT, manorexic Ned.

But let's talk about Ned for a minute. Or rather, let's talk about my hangups for a minute, and apparently it's 1967. What're your HANGUPS, man?

I adore Ned. I don't know if I've ever mentioned that to you. Oh, I just love him to death, except for when he tells me to eat less and exercise more. But here's my thing. I used to just love Marvin to death. Remember that? Well, you probably don't, because by the time I was blogging we were circling the drain.

But that's what scares me to pieces. How do you know that the person you adore today isn't going to be the person who drives you berserk five years later? How do you keep yourself feeling the way you do when you first met the person?

When I married Marvin, we had the ceremony out behind a cool old bed and breakfast, down by the water.

Before everything got started, people were seated and I was hiding behind a building so I could make my grand entrance. Why can't every day be my wedding day? Because what was more fun than hundreds of people awaiting my arrival and me looking great in a big dress? See. I really should be a drag queen.

Anyway, while I hid behind the building, I peeked around to see the crowd, and there was Marvin, just splayed out on a chair, like he was in the lobby of the car repair place or something. He was so, you know, casual. And it was so Marvin, and I had this feeling: "I am absolutely doing the right thing."

And here I am divorced. So, what's the secret? Do you know? If you say "communication" Ima kill myself, cause we did nothing but communicate. So what KIND of communication? What does that even mean? It's kind of like when someone majors in Communications. I never knew what that meant, either.

Do tell. Cause I was lucky enough to find somone wonderful and I'd like to not ruin it by being me.

Wild, wild night

Yesterday was the first Friday of the month, and if you pay any attention to the habits of The June, and what's more appealing than someone who refers to herself in the third person AND adds a "The," on the first Friday of every month I tend to schlep over to Winston-Salem to enjoy First Friday. There is also a First Friday in my OWN town, and it's directly outside Ned's door, but that'd be convenient.

Since my close personal pal Dick Whitman lives in Winston-Salem, I called him to see if he wanted to join us. "I'm with my friend," he said. "We'll meet you there."

Dick Whitman has a friend who I've met a few times, and who Ima advertise on this here blog. In other words, Ima pimp him out. He is single after a rather long relationship, and look! He's cute!

hellooooo, ladies.

Okay, I think possibly a cocktail or two had passed his lips at this point in the evening, but try to picture him sober.

He's looking for someone in her late 30s/early 40s, he is a Quaker minister, and as you can see, this does not mean he has to dress in a frilly collar and large hat.

helloooo, ladies.

I'm just saying. If anyone is interested in Dick Whitman's friend, let me know. Cause he seems like a good guy. More on him later, when he's dancing with a lesbian.

What I forGOT to tell you is before all this First Friday festivity feteing began, and I really wish "began" started with an f, I got home from fake work last night and discovered I had really good mail. The statistics place paid me, which, yay, and also? There was a package.

From my more-successful-than-me-in-every-way pal Miss Doxie.

Which, yay.

It was one of her works of art! She gave me one of her works of art! Because it's not enough that she has the best blog ever and a fancy career and a hot husband and adorable house and that she is THE PRETTIEST EVER, she also has to be good at the drawing and painting and creating and yes I hate her too.

It reads, "Her Royal Highness Madge, queen of all the crap she surveyed."

LOVE IT SO BAD OH I DO!!!!!!

So I was already giddy and chatty and annoying by the time Ned came to get me, and I sound precisely like Tom Waits with this leftover cold, and what's sexier?

(This excellent Tom Waits song may not be safe for, you know, work. Why are you reading this at work? Slacker.) (Actually, the song I picked is not that bad. I wanted to put in the burlesque song but changed mind.)

I was kind of talking as frenetically as Tom Waits is in this song, too, so the person who had a relaxing trip to Winston was Ned. Then when we got to the restaurant, the only place available to sit was on this couch that sort of faced out into the room.

"I've kind of always wanted to sit on the couch," I growled in my I-heart-cigarettes voice. There was this cute couple also sharing the couch with us--he was a black guy with dreads and she was a little screechy but funny white thing in her 20s. She was drinking Maker's Mark on the rocks. I wish I could drink something that manly and no-nonsense. Dick Whitman, perusing the menu, asked us if mojitos were girly.

"Yes," everybody said.

We had the dreads kid take our picture, because it's important we capture on film every moment. I saw something on Facebook recently with a picture of Neil Armstrong on the moon. "Went to moon. Took five pictures" the caption read. Then it showed a girl in the bathroom doing duck face. "Went to bathroom. Took 39 pictures," it read.

Good gravy, The June, can you keep your dang mitts off your man for eight seconds?

Answer: No.

It wasn't long before a DJ started setting up not far from us. "Oh, no," said Ned. "Why do they DO this? This place is wonderful, and they have to ruin it by adding loud music and we'll never be able to talk." In other news, Ned is going to start wearing feathered fedoras while driving .005 miles an hour down the middle of the highway. On his way to his WWII reunion with his buds.

Get off Ned's lawn.

How'sat? Speak up.

As soon as the first song came on, this couple started dancing and I.loved.them. They weren't a particularly lovely couple, and they were probably our age, although they were people of color and they had the whole black-don't-crack thing, so seriously, they could have been Davis and McCoo. At any rate, not young. They were not young.

But oh! How they clearly loved to dance. They danced to every song. They were having a great time. "I love them," said Ned.

"I DO TOO! Look how much fun they're having." I started sort of wishing Ned liked to dance, but he doesn't, and who wants to be seen dancing with old What Inhibitions, over here, anyway?

Then this hot Latin gigolo guy got up and danced dirtily with about 14 different women. He was a SPECTACULAR dancer, and every woman swooned who danced with him. There was one guy on the sidelines, who looked like my friend from Seattle, Rosenberg, and his wife got STOLEN AWAY by the gigolo guy. "Where's Rosenberg?" asked Ned, who's never met my friend Rosenberg in real life even remotely. "Is he aware of how much fun his wife is having right now?"

"Rosenberg totally ordered another appetizer," I noted gravelly-ly, seeing him standing near the dance floor, gobbling a chicken wrap like it was the last meal he'd ever have.

Oh but then. THEN! If that weren't enough, a young cute lesbian girl got up and danced, and motioned to our whole couch to dance with her. "COME ON!" she yelled, and I adored her and her sociable self, and before you know it, our Quaker minister got up and joined her!

The June. Perfecting her dance-floor photography since--oh, screw it. It wasn't long, though, before this hot young blonde girl in a spangly top came up and started making out with the cute dancy lesbian.

"We have the best seats in the whole place," said Ned, who seemed kind of happy.

And it must have been Ned-and-June fantasy night, because seconds later a huge muscular bald man of color got up there with his date, MY NEW BEST FRIEND.

You guys. I LOVED this girl. She was ALL OVER that dance floor, shaking her thang, and she went to the June School of Inhibitions and I WANT HER TO BE MY NEW FRIEND SO BAD I DO.

She danced for so long that eventually hot bald black date sat down--ON OUR COUCH. Remember in Animal House when the girl gets shot through the air into that kid's bedroom and the kid says, "Thank you, God"? Yeah.

"I just want you to know that I am doing my best to not look over there at bald man of color, " I told Ned, who knows I have the thing for bald men of color, and if he didn't know before last night he'd know then, seeing as I was primping and smiling and bending over and presenting like a baboon, so subtle was I.

"Now, see, I'd be in trouble for telling you something like that," said Ned, who was 100% right.

"But, see, I'm telling you that I'm TRYING NOT TO LOOK. Doesn't that count for something?"

Eventually I got a little...verklempt and had to retire to the rest room to put cold water on my pulse points, and when I returned?

Ned. Dancing with the cute lesbian girl!

I have never been so amused in my life. "How'd she get you to do it?" I wondered. "She came over and said, 'Your girlfriend? Is so. lucky.'"

And I am.

In which June sobs like an idiot over a beer commercial

I should stop drinking Budweiser in the morning.

 

andPatty (that's only funny if you read yesterday's comments)

I know you've all been pacing the waiting room, drinking bad coffee, and saying things to each other like, "Go home. Get your rest. You'll need your strength" and then "NO! I want to BE here for JUNE!" but the wait is over. I seem to be on the mend from my cold.

I was thinking NEXT time I get a cold, Ima try making a big deal out of it. See if it helps. I have to stop suffering in silence.

Anyway, how are all y'all? Does anyone have a cold? Was it as bad as mine?

Since I'm home for lunch and having some leftover delicious ginger chicken from my Thai dinner last night with Ned (guess who backed out of cooking? Cause I'm, you know, ill) (did you know I've been ill?), I thought I'd blog and catch you up on every little thing.

I never did tell you about my friend and coworker TinaDoris and me de-ghosting her house. With sage. We used it wisely. BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

On Saturday, TinaDoris and I headed to the crystal psychic devil worship store in our town. Here is a black cat who lives there. I love him. On a new and different note.

TinaDoris shoplifted some tea and then went in search of the ghostbusting sage.

I fooled around.

We got to TinaDoris' haunted abode and her cynical husband watched us light the stuff and chant through the house. He laughs now, but wait till there's a ghost right behind him, like on Scooby Doo. Who's gonna rattle his teeth THEN?

We had to go into each room, and open all the drawers and closets and so forth, so no spirits could hide. Damn hidey spirits.

There's this one secret room she has? Behind a bookcase? And yes, I do hate her and her cool house. Anyway, in that room the sage kept going out. OooooWEEEEEooooooo...

After we saged every room, we came back downstairs and I swear to you I felt lighter. Maybe I was high on sage. The only dramatic thing that happened was halfway through, my camera broke. See above re OooooWEEEEEooooo....

It started working again, by the way. OoooWEEE--okay, I'll stop.

I'll let you know if TD reports any more ghosts in her house, or if we WIPED 'EM OUT with our sagey ways.

And if YOUR house is haunted, who you gonna call?

I hope not me. I got stuff to do. Plus I just got over a cold. Did you know I've been sick?

In which June discusses open floor plans and the tuna taco. Tune in, won't you? Tuna in, won't you? BAH!

Currently I have the personality of a MOP because GUESS WHAT, another MIGRAINE and I basically hate self and wish to die. I finished that Prednisone I was taking, which, hooray, I can sleep again and speak at a regular slow-ish pace and not raise the roof, literally, and so forth, but now, yay. Migraines are back. Holy CATS, it makes me mad.

So, yeah. Thank heavens you went to all the trouble to be one of the 16% checking in on a Saturday, cause WOW, what a personality on June. Look at the big personality on June.

It is a shame I can't say "personality" one more time. You know what else I have a lot of today? Wessonality.

Some idiot sat there and thought of that ad campaign. Then pitched it to his coworkers. "Say! Why don't we say the chicken's got Wessonality?" And his coworkers were all, "Yeah! That's the ticket!"

How late at night do you think that was?

So, in other news, we had us an ice kind of a thing here in North Carolina. I got up yesterday morning, as I am wont to do, and as I headed to fake work I noted MOTHER OF GOD IT'S COLD, which really, it usually isn't here. Oh, it'll be in the 30s sometimes, but that's spring where I grew up. Yesterday? 24. TWENTY-FOUR.

Then after maybe an hour at work, people got all excited cause it was...something-ing out there. Kind of snowing, kind of raining. Kind of FREEZING, is what it was doing. When I went home for lunch, I had to pull over twice to scrape my windshield, because it kept icing over while I drove. That wasn't jarring or anything.

The good news is they let us out at 2:30, because The South. Where we panic over every weather incident. So I went home with the zinc drops and Emergen-C my boss gave me, which by the way SEEM TO HAVE WORKED LIKE DEMONS, and I watched house-buying shows on HGTV and napped on and off all afternoon.*

People have the worst taste in houses. I have no desire to look at everyone watching TV in some great room while I slave away in a kitchen with granite countertops. "Oh, I like how it's open to the other rooms," people always say. Why is this a good thing? We used to have this concept. It was called "rooms." Why don't we all just live in a big dome, we're so dying to see what everyone else is up to in the rest of the house.

Am I alone in this? I also have no desire to have an entryway that is 90 feet tall. Hi, come on in. I live in a lobby.

You know what I would like to have one day? Other than an actual job? Is a Cape Cod type of house. Back when I was young, so, so long ago, I just wanted my own apartment, with no roommates. Something small, but with character. Then I got that, and I met Marvin and all we wanted was a house. Nothing fancy, maybe just something from the '50s, with, you know, character.

Character is a big thing with me and my dwellings.

It took us TEN YEARS of marriage, but we finally got it, after realizing you cannot HAVE a small cute house in LA without being a small cute millionaire.

Now five years I been living here and I'm all, Wouldn't a Cape Cod be nice. Is it always going to be like this? Will I ever be satisfied? When I get my Cape Cod am I gonna wish for a house built in 1997 with an open floor plan?

With character?

What HAPPENED to character in houses? I think it went the way of "big." All of a sudden everyone needs big. And why? So you can all be in different rooms checking your smartphones?

Am cynical today. Migraine makes me cynical.

Anyway. Despite the icy conditions and general cold icy coldness, I still got together with Ned last night, because rather crushy on Ned. Everything was closed down because The South. Where we panic over every weather incident. Have I mentioned? We did, however, mince our way through the ice to our favorite pretentious taco place, where IT IS ALL DELICIOUS, and right when we walked in, the owner said, "Oh. Guys. I'm sorry. We just decided to shut down for the night due to weather."

Either we looked completely devastated or she recognized us from the 92 times we've been in, but she said, "You know what? Come in. You'll be the last two we serve."

Ned felt terribly guilty through the whole meal. I gleefully ordered the tuna tacos I've been wanting to order since DAY ONE of going there, which I've been afraid to order because everyone in there appears to be perhaps lesbianical and I always thought I was gonna giggle when I said, "I want a tuna taco." Because am in 7th grade. However, I ordered, "The taco, with tuna, please," a thing Ned repeated 47 times because he enjoys my maturity.

And OH MY GOD, it was delicious. Totally went to the Ned School of Eating during that meal. OH! Enjoyed my tuna taco. It had Wessonality.

Then this morning, Ned left for his work trip and I hate everything. He gets back Wednesday, and is coming RIGHT HERE from the airport, and I am making salmon and yes, I did just tell you that I'm cooking something. That is how excited I will be to see Ned. Am cooking something. I know.

In a few minutes, I'm leaving to get up with my friend and coworker TinaDoris. A few months back, she and her husband bought a really really cool old house with, you know, character, and also a ghost. She has had ALL KINDS OF CREEPY SHIT happen since they moved in, including an inexplicable really violent injurious fall, a weird red liquid on her hands for no reason, and now a candle attacked her. Don't ask.

So we're headed to the nutty crystal hippie store to get sage, and we're gonna de-demonize her place this afternoon. We Googled how to de-demonize your place, which is probably what ancient woman did when her cave was haunted. Will keep you posted on if it works or if the damn thing just gets in the car with me and starts haunting THIS place.

You know what a ghost will give this place? Wessonality.

*I forgot to tell you that when I got home yesterday afternoon, Edsel did his usual thing where he BOUNDS excitedly to the back door, which I opened so he could BOUND excitedly across the yard as though bounding across that yard were exciting and new and not something he does 18 times a day, but yesterday he BURST out the door and skid skid skidded across the icy deck, and could not get his footing, and splayed his feets this way and that and skid skid skidded on to the grass, which was similarly icy, so guess what, skid, and basically Tallulah and I died laughing. The end.