You know, I think this current design of my blog is the longest I've kept one look going. The woman who designs it seems to not do TypePad-related work anymore, so I sometimes cursorily look for a new designer, then I get over it. Blogs are so not a thing anymore that you can't even really find designers. I don't know. Then I think of leaving TypePad in a huff, going to Squarespace or whatever, and I never do it.
Do we remember all my designs from the past almost eight years?
The original, which I had from 2008 till 2009, I'd guess. I can't get all of it back so we can see the whole thing, because the template sizes are all different now, so when I go on my blog's deepest guts area (official term®) and say, "Revert to old design" it looks like this. It's like trying to get your eyes done so you look 20 again.
Aw, I'd forgotten this one. Geez, it's like seeing old friends. I think this went up election night of 2012, because I remember watching election returns with Naughty Professor and checking my emails about my new design at the same time.
As I was perusing these tonight, I left the pink one up just to freak people out for awhile. Waiting for the first "Love the new look!" comment. heeeeeee.
I just looked, and Amish Annie is over there being excited about my blog being all Throwback Thursday.
I have no idea how I got off on this tangent.
I wonder how many of us will hang on, and keep going, now that blogs have faded from fashion? Back in the day, most of the people who read me had their own damn blogs, and were forever linking to theirs in the comments, or asking me to mention them or whatever. Now that seems mostly over, and I'm that guy who when everyone else is ready to go home and go to bed after the party, says, "Anyone up for pizza? We could order pizza! Come on, guys! It's only 4:00!"
Anyway. Blogging about blogs. I'm so meta.
Today was a busildy day, what with returning to work after a two-day absence, and trying to get anyone to hear all my poop stories, which no one seemed to want to gather up a chair and do. It was a beautiful fall day, and we took our three o'clock walk as we are wont to do, and I once again offered to tell us a little walking tale, a little droppings talk for the trail, but no one rose to the bait. No one wanted to get a load of my story.
The good news is, the lovely day meant Alex got a great senior picture taken.
June's Coworkers' Senior Picture Poses
Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot.
The other crucial thing that happened at work today is we had a pertinent discussion about cell phones, and who we knew that first had them, and when they became a thing. "Wasn't it, like, in 1991?" asked Griff, who has the astonishing ability to be wrong about everything.
My old boyfriend Cardinal had a car phone in, like, 1985, but it did not belong to him, because why would that mogul need a car phone in the '80s? Cardinal, Tubbs and Crockett, over there. His dad owned it, and I remember Cardinal leaving my house one night, and 10 seconds later the phone ringing. "I'M CALLING FROM THE DRIVEWAY!" he screeched, and it was terribly exciting. That four-second call was probably $17.
In the early '90s, when I lived in Seattle, I had a really fun friend named Jeff whose boyfriend Brady had a cell phone the size of your mom's ass, and eventually Jeff was given one, too, inexplicably, other than the fact that half the time Jeff seemed to kind of have a thing with this other guy, so maybe Brady wanted to check up on him.
Mostly Jeff used that phone to call me from bathrooms. "I'm peeing out the first drink! Where ARE you?"
Once, at the place I worked, the phone rang and seeing as I was the receptionist, I answered it. "Is Jeff in?" a male voice asked. "He is!" I said brightly. "Is this Biff?"
"No, it's Brady." As in, it's Brady, the man he LIVES with, you twit. Why did you think I was the other guy?
So that was smooth. In case you wondered, Was June a smoove receptionist? The answer is oh, yes. Oh, HELL, yes.
Another time, a shareholder where I worked got a phone call. "It's your wife," I told him. He took it in the conference room, right next to where I was. "Yeeeeeeeessss?" he said in this high-pitched, funny voice.
It was a client. IT'D SOUNDED JUST LIKE HIS WIFE. I remember him shaking his fist at me.
Anyway. So those were my first cell phone experiences, not being an idiot receptionist, but the other stories. I remember at my 2003 class reunion, my friend Donna having a BlackBerry, and she seemed very fancy with that. I'd had a giant cell phone the size of my shoe up your mom's ass, by then, and in 2006 I had a flip phone. You could go to the mall and have them decorate your phone in a kiosk, so I had a pink rhinestone Eiffel Tower put on my phone, and I loved the shit outta that thing.
Then in 2010, I got a job at a fancy ad agency, and all the young girls had iPhones. During meetings they'd scroll scroll scroll with their fingers, and I thought they seemed so cool (now they seem rude) and I wanted to be JUST LIKE THEM other than that I was 45. So I begged and pleaded and finally Marvin relented and let me have an iPhone that we could ill afford. And the rest is zero productive hours history.
My first iPhone. Also chaos with Henry, Winston and a dog crate back there. Good god.
I shouldn't write at night. I have too much time and I drone on forever about important topics such as blog design and mobile devices.
Look at Henry's stripey tail. Hen. How I miss those cats.
I will talk at you later.
Missing Henry's white feetly, and also missing Winnie's gray stripesly,