Bye Bye, Pie!

The FINAL COUNTDOWN! You're welcome.

"I told them," I emailed ...friend, after giving all y'all all my big news yesterday. I sent him the link, too.

"I don't even read your blog that often and I'm even sad," said ...friend, after looking at yesterday's post. And it IS sad, isn't it? I like the beginnings of things, and I dwell sadly on the end. I've done this for so long I won't even know what to do with myself at first.

"You should take a picture of me NOT eating a salad," ...friend said later that day when we were having dinner. How much are you going to miss my crystal-clear photography? I'm not gonna miss all the queries from people who're into photography. "How do you DO it, June? What camera do you use?" I mean, it's exhausting. I have a gift, okay?

Big pile of fried green tomatoes. God, I love the South.

So I took pictures of us not eating salads ("us." Like I am just MADE of salad.) but then I said, "I have to get used to this. I don't need to document my every move anymore."

"You sure you want to do this?"

"No."

And I'm not. Now that I've heard from so many of you, and you were so nice, and some of you even emailed me personally to tell me how much you read me or times my dumb blog got you through stuff, I feel totally torn. I do.

Lu tore too. Liturlee. We getteeng stittchis out soon?

Look at her little shavey leg, where they put an IV. Get away from my dog. With your needles and your knives and so on. We go in an hour and no more cone for Lu. Truthfully I've had it off her for a few days now. She mostly leaves her injury alone. And who needs to maybe trim that foliage in the back yard?

Geez, Lu. Get on it.

Oh, and at my neverending freelance job, I am down to working noon to 5:30, because the guy who had surgery is back half time, and anyway I said, "Tallulah has a vet appointment at 10:30 but I think I'll still be on time." And they were all, "...the office is closed tomorrow."

It IS? I totally would've shown up to an empty office had Lu not had a vet appointment.

Mom dizapoynt lillee. could be more orrganize?

Geez Louise, is that fur by the door, there, in the Lily picture? I shouldn't take pet shots; it just makes me see stuff that needs to get done around here.

Oh! But I asked if there was anything you wanted me to blog about and you said pet psychic. So okay.

When I lived in LA and had the fabulous cat Mr. Horkheimer,

hooo? you know, lillee fabyouluss too.

(somebody asked about Lily, too. Hence the all-Lily, all-the-time-except-for-when-I'm-showing-fried-green-tomatoesness of this post)

ANYWAY, when I lived in LA and had the wonderful Mr. Horkheimer, he got a mysterious illness. I took him to the vet 17 times and they were like, well, it could be his KIDNEY, it might be his LIVER....

Thanks. In the meantime he's spraying blood and losing weight. So, my friend Karina had a horse, and let me tell you something. No woman who has a horse just, oh, has a horse. Every friend I have who owns a horse can never be found anywhere but with that horse. Horses are to women what golfing is to men. Addictive. Is what I mean.

So Karina told me that some pet psychic came to the stables and read all the horses. She said, "Maybe she can tell you what's going on with Horkie."

See. When you live in LA? After awhile people say stuff like that to you and you just go, "Oh, thanks! Good idea!" Like she'd just recommended a plumber. "Yeah, call this guy to snake your pipes. Oh, and this woman here will give you a past-life aura reading and cleanse your toxins!"

So I did. I called Lydia Hibey, pet psychic. And oh! It was so great! She said often animals come into our lives to teach us something. Not Hork. He was there to be admired and pampered. That was it. "How'm I doing on that?" I asked. "Horkie tells me you're an A+!" she said.

The pet psychic even told me that Hork said he hated it when we lived with "those girls." In Seattle, Hork and I lived in a house with Stacy and Paula, and they had a Sheltie. Do you know from Shelties? They are not what you'd call mellow dogs. And Hork? ABHORRED that creature. Oh. Hated. He'd hide on a dining room chair and swat that animal when it trotted by high-strungly.

Anyway, the pet psychic recommended I get these bovine pills from the store and mix them with turkey baby food, and do you know Horkie improved for about a year before he finally just up and died? So I got an extra year of Mr. Horkheimer. And that is good. Because he was magnificent.

we getteeng kind of sik of heereeng about that cat. currint pets magnifsint too. ..not edsel. but rest of us.

Anyway, that's that story. I'd hate to leave you hanging with any untold story. So let me know if there's anything else you want to hear.

I guess I better shower and get all good-looking for the vet's office. Which means I'll be getting to the vet in 1992.

Sigh. June. Kind of sad.

Edsel has an underbite. News at 11:00.

The good news is, Tallulah is out of surgery already and I get to get her at 3:00. As soon as we got in the car this morning, she started shaking, so she knew it wasn't just a fun trip to dog day care.

They have two doors at my vet--one for white people and one for black people. It's the South. No! One for dogs and one for cats. They probably also have to have a separate door for gay people now, too. Stupid North Carolina.

My point is, I should just bring her in the cat side, because you can imagine what a charming Southern lady she was when we walked in and there were other dogs. It's so dumb. On the leash, she is an absolute dick. If I had unhooked her? "Oh heyyyyy! How you do? I Talula. You want see my canser lump?"

Anyway, the worst was the poor woman holding the little dog, but fortunately the vet tech came right away to get Lu. I wonder why. BARKBARKBARKBARK! BARK! YOU LITTLE AND STOOPID! YOU NOT ENTER THRU STOOPIT DOOR? STOP BE LITTLE! GROW! GRRRRROW!

Humiliating.

Anyway once they put the official sad blue vet leash on her, I started to cry, and hug her neck, and humiliate her in front of stoopit little dog. One hopes she won't remember that when she gets out.

Tonight ...friend is coming and bringing Thai food and we are gonna stay in, because I don't want to leave Luis the gracious dog. I want to lord over her and poke at her incision and pet her head, which she hates, and kiss her, which she also seems to kind of hate, and generally bug the crap out my own sick dog.

And eat Thai.

In other news, I got up with Dick Whitman last night. I been working in the Winston-Salem for a month now (yes. A month. It was supposed to be a three-hour tour.) and he wrote, "I had all these dreams that once you started working in Winston we'd hang out all the time after work, just talking shit. Literally. I thought we'd talk about bowel movements."

Well, once THAT opportunity was presented I got Marvin to let the dogs out (who, who who) (you're welcome) last night, and I had me the coffee with the Richard. Of Whitmans.

I had peppermint tea. Whit and his man had a coconut latte, because he is female. It was delicious, though! I had a drink before he put his disgusting lips on it.

A pensive Dick Whitman.

Afterward, I made him take me to a card store, because I needed to get, you know, cards. I wanted to send his mom a Mother's Day card.

Dear Actual Mom: I sent you a very nice and rather costly thing from Etsy, but never did find time to buy you a card. I know, dude. I been busy.

Oh! But before we get to the card store, and you know how I ADORE people who say, "Let me back up" when they tell a story (do you EVER want them to back up? Ever? You do not. Most stories are just for getting through till you can tell your own), but the place where we were having coffee apparently used to be Dick Whitman's orthodontist's office.

"You had braces?" I asked, learning a new thing about Dick Whitman, seeing as we had exhausted the subject of our bowel movements.

"I did. I had a terrible underbite."

"Just like Edsel!"

"Edsel has an underbite?" he asked.

....!

Y'all. Most of you have not even MET Edsel, and how many of you are incredulous right now?

I mean,

 

you can't NOT see that underbite. YOU CAN'T NOT SEE IT. And yes, that picture of him holding hands with Roger IS killing me, thank you.

How indifferent to dogs do you have to be to not see that underbite? Dick Whitman. Irking me since whenever he started irking me, but particularly yesterday.

At any rate, once we got to the card store, I forced Whitman to get a card for his mom. Dear Dick Whitman's mom: He thought the part where he is taking you to lunch counted as his Mother's Day gift to you. As a girl, I know how cards matter to us. You are welcome. Oh, and don't look at the photo above cause I'm pretty sure that's the one he ended up getting you and your surprise will be ruined.

Love, June.

All right. I had better go. I feel guilty that I have a whole day off and all I've done is nap and blog and email with ...friend. Who probably wishes he hadn't asked, "What can I do to help the day of Talu's surgery?" because now he has to fein interest in every detail of that dog and also run hither and yon for Thai food. Southern people. Too nice for their own good.

Unless you're gay.

Drama in the LBC.

So I was planning to have a delightful weekend. Yes, I was. On Friday I was going out with ...friend, and on Saturday after a quick trip to the vet, Tallulah and I were going to the farm to hang out with Chris and Lilly, then I was going to meet ...friend's best friend, who I am supposed to think of a clever name for but once I have to be clever I never am, so all I can think to call her is ...friend's best friend, and try to stitch up your sides from laughing at my rapier wit, there.

Then on Sunday my pal Poochie and I were gonna have dunch, which stands for lunch at, like, 3:00 because your lazy ass doesn't wanna get out of bed too early.

So yeah. Weekend was looking good. Partayy. Rolling down the street smokin' endo, sippin' on gin and juice. Because apparently my weekend was gonna be spent in 1993.

(Dude, it's a Snoop Dog veeedeo. Need I say not safe for work? Or anywhere, really.) (I love me the Snoop Dog. Did you ever see his TV show, Doggie Fizzle Televizzle? It was the best show ever, Sopranos be damned.) (Ima add "izzle" to the end of everything from now onzzle.) (I realize I left out the "I." Am already bad at thizzle.)

 Anyway, you know what? On Friday afternoon, as I was leaving work, right there on the street was my old pal Charlie, whom I adore.

Here he is, talking to everyone from work, as we all exclaimed merrily when we saw him. Charlie got laid off from that place the same day I did, and of course has bounced back, because he's Chas.

Anyway, my point is, I was all, What an auspicious start to my weekend! Wait. Does auspicious mean bad? Or just "it's a sign"? You know what I could do? Is look on Merriam-Wizzle.

I did see ...friend on Friday. We went to First Friday, which was convenient seeing as it WAS Friday, and I wonder how many time I can say "Friday." We looked for King Friday and then we fried all day. Fo' shizzle.

First Friday (I said it again), in case you don't have them, is where the shops downtown stay open and serve wine and cheezzle and there's live music on the street, as opposed to dead-people bands, which are rarely fun. Above see a quartet playing in a window at First Friday on Friday. I think it's a quartet. Who can remember? That was way back on Friday.

We also popped in to my friend Kit's vintage clothing store, where she was having a sale on everything polka-dotted. How bad do you love her dress and bracelet? How bad do you love Kitzzle?

So, yeah. It was all going well. And the next day I said, Come on, Tallulah. Let's go to the vet, my nizzle. 

And that's when everything got stupid.

Because she was just there for her routine shots.

Marshall, Will and Holly. On a routine expedition. "Daddy, do something! Ahhhhhh!"

Honestly, what is wrong with my brain? Who can name that show that just popped in there?

Anyway, yes. Just in there for her routine shots, so she doesn't get all rabid Pit Bullizzle on our asses. "Is Tallulah doing okay in general?" asked the vet. "Oh!" I said, having almost forgotten. "She's got a bump on her side. Can you look at that?"

And 15 minutes later, the vet came back with the really shocking news that Talu's bump is cancer.

I mean, what the HELL. With my luck. WHAT.THE.HELL. I mean, I realize technically it's TALU's luck, but still. The cancer she has is common in dogs, and in most cases is curable. She has surgery to remove it on Friday (I got to say Friday again), and they will send it to pathology, which by the way they are ALSO doing when I have surgery in (wait for it) two Fridays, so really everyone around here is waiting for pathology results. 

Yay.

So it is very likely Tallulah will be okay, but still. I've been calling her Brian's Song all weekend. My poor doggie. I took her to Chris and Lilly's farm as I had planned, but suddenly watching her play and frolic felt very Make-a-Wish.

SHE WILL BE FINE. She has to be FINE. Do you all hear me?

As upset as I was, there was no better place for me to be than on that farm. Because it's kind of my favorite place on earth. Baby horsizzle is getting big. And sassy.

And am certain I need to discuss with you how indifferent I was to the part where there are FIVE KITTENS right now.

"who hare lady? kitty skare."

Are you dying at how they look alike? If my dad were here, he'd say, "That Mendel. What a guy."

Dear dad, The mom looks just like the babies. Isn't that a miracle?

Dad is very science-y. He thoroughly enjoys when I get amazed by genetics. Genizzles.

Anyway. So, despite my traumatizedness, I carried on and went with ...friend to Durham to meet his best friend, not that he's never met his best friend before, as that would be pathetic. She had a Kentucky Derby party, and I honestly think that's the first time I've ever watched the Kentucky Derby, and who knew it'd be exciting? And six seconds long?

Then ...friend told me all about the OTHER horse races, and all about horse things, and I was all, Who are you? Why do you know horse things? Are you Almanzo Wilder?

And ...friend's best friend? Has five dogs and three cats. She is our people. You would all love her.

Here's one of her 959594 dogs, and guess her name. GUESS! It's Iris. I KNOW! And how cute is that dog? With her speckly earses?

I was kind of thinking of taking her. I mean, Ima be down a dog soon.

June. Going to hellizzle in a handizzle.

And speaking of which, I spent the entire morning lying with old Jenny from Love Story, petting her ears and kissing her dog haunches and basically driving that relatively aloof dog berserk. Guess who just wants to tie on her bandanna and get this cancer over with so mom will GET OFF HER?

But after my Terms of Endearment morning, I did get up with Poochie for dunch.

Who's my cute friend? Is it Poozizzle?

Ima let you guess who ordered the salad and who got the cheesy meatball hoagie.

So there you have it. M'dog gots cancer. Or can-sa, as they pronounce it in TinyTown. But I know my girl will be okay. Because God would never leave me with Edsel as the alpha dog. I mean, that doesn't even make sense. Lily would have to take over, for heaven's sake. You know? It ain't fittin'.

Oh and before I go, I did want to say:

Friday.

God I'm annoyizzle.

with Turkey

Edsel just stuck his tongue in my mouth while I was yawning. He is disgusting.

edzul very attract to mom. mom irriztible. in her graa rowbe.

He's right. I am sort of irriztible in this gray robe. I may have to make out with myself, if I can get my dog out my mouth.

So, hey! How are y'all all?

lu just want to be freend, mom. mostlee cause gray rowbe not that hot.

Things are fine-ish here, although as you can see a lot of my time has been taken up teaching my Crystal-Clear Photography series.

I have good news and bad news, over here. The bad news is I am in the middle of ANOTHER EFFING HEALTH SCARE, and probably it isn't that big a deal, but you know how I am. I have obsessed, and Googled, and worried, and pictured myself feeling the silk and joining Dick Clark for the final countdown.

THE FINAL COUNTDOWN! Now you have that song in your head all day. You are welcome.

There will be more news on my impending race toward death on Monday, and no, I will NOT give you more details if you email me. "What's going ONNN, June? Let's TALK about it, June." Talking about it makes me hurl. I am just telling you so you can get a general idea of my state of mind and that state is Nebraska.

...I just got up to let old Frenchie, there, and his sister outside to chase squirrels, and as I passed the dining room there is a container of Parmesan cheese just sitting in the middle of the floor.

A whole container.

Is my Parmesan cheese haunted? Is it floating about on its own? HOW DID THOSE STUPID DOGS GET TO THE PARMESAN CHEESE? Can they now open the fridge? Because that might be convenient, actually. "Edsel, go get mom some Gino's Pizza Rolls and maybe we can get to second." Gino's Pizza Rolls would be in the freezer, though. I need to get them a little step stool.

Oh, and the good news, and I like how I take 75 minutes to get to any good news, is that I won that Best Blogger Who Ever Walked the Streets of Greensboro award in Yes Weekly magazine.

Actually, I think it was Best Blogger Who Ever Graced the Triad, and "the Triad" is what they call it here and I have no idea why. I think it has something to do with three. I am the best blogger of three.

I know I won because Marvin called me. He'd been at the gym and was paging though Yes Weekly--and yes to what? What does "Yes Weekly" mean, really? Then again I shouldn't poke fun because they have awarded me this prize. Anyway, he was on the treadmill or doing zoomba or pulling a train with his teeth or whatever Marvin does at the gym and there I was. Listed.

Marvin picked a fine time to leave THIS winning combination, over here. A champion blogger AND sexually enticing to dogs. GOOD WORK, ABANDONING THIS GRAVY TRAIN, BUB.

Maybe I am attractive to dogs because I smell like Gravy Train. Do they still make Gravy Train?

It doesn't really seem fashionable anymore to feed your dog strips in gravy (with Turkey!) while a train is bearing down on you. What about Chuck Wagon? Do they still make that? So that your sheepdog can chase it under the cupboard? Sheepdogs were the Border collies of the '70s, weren't they?

Okay, I must go. Am still freelancing at my old work and WHEN DID THAT PLACE GET SO BUSY? There has been late work EVERY NIGHT so far, and they are down to two copy editors. Also I have to leave for said busy place in 20 minutes and am still in my siren song gray robe. So goodbye.

Geez Louise. Found her.

I just went to sit on the front porch to wait for ...friend, and did a few more "kittykittykitty!" calls, and I heard the saddest meow you've ever heard. There she was, in all the foliage at the side of the house. I would take her picture but she is too busy eating to pose for the effing webcam.

OH THANK GOD.

Now I gotta go take down all the signs. Which is good, because I was worried the neighbors would start reporting me to the SPCA.

Lily

I just got home and Lily isn't here. She does NOT go outside; after Roger I am not letting another cat out for as long as I live.

Marvin came over after work and let the dogs out cause I worked late, but he swears she did not go out. I think it was yesterday afternoon that ...friend and I saw her all cute on the bed, and we were talking about how comfy she looked, and how glad I was she is roaming all over the house now. I really, really think that was just last night. I am kind of cloudy with panic.

What the HELL? I shouldn't even HAVE cats.

Winston's peaceful existence. A thing of the past.

So now I have to drag out old posts to keep you amused. THERE IS A LOT OF WORK. I don't know if I've mentioned that. Anyway, here is May of 2010, when I still had my beloved wonderful Winston, and Henry was a bitty kitten.

Ahh, summer.

Hey, Winston! What doing? Henry here to say hi!

 
Why you crabby, Winston? Why you crabby? Henry here to cheer you up. Hi! Hi, Winston! Hi! Hi! Hi!

 
Hey, Winsfstonph! Numnumnum. I gotz yer tail! Numnumnumnum....


Where you goin'? Why grumpy?
...Henry sit in window now?

For Mor Yeer. A guest post by Tallulah Blueberry Gardens

My name Lu Gardins. I live with Big Hair. She annoy Lu sometime.

Big Hair say it for yearz that Lu been living here now. Lu haf no idea what yeerz be. All Lu no is she wake up here and eet here and go to sleepz heer. All time.

One day Lu just standeeng on side of rode. Not hurting no one. Yellow car come RIGHT UP to Lu. There Big Hair. hello doggie. she say. why you on side of rode? she say.

Lu have answer for her. But she get no time to tell beause Big Hair swoooop up Lu and put her in car. your name talulaa. she say. you my dog now.

so okaaa. lu live wif Big Hair and that other guy after that. it all rite. get lots of prezent.

at new howse there also lot of catz. it annoy.

so Lu annoy back.

Sometime Big Hair redicuuulus about Lu. Sometime Big Hair need to get over it.

sometime think mom need to have hyuumin baby and not dog.

sometime Lu want to go Pit Bull on mom azz.

Pit Bull, mom. Can eet lips off you any time Lu want, mom.

But mostlee Lu like it heer. It not so bad.

we play. we haf fun.

then one daa Big Hair bring home nother dogg.

why?

no, realy. why?

he not bad all time. but most time he bad.

we all no who best dog be.

Lu best dog.

that all Lu got to say about living heer. who all you? Why you look at Lu all time? 

Reemembur, lu can go Pit Bull on all yer azzez.

You only have one nondoughnut hand. Use it wisely.

That title comes from my Krispy Kreme cup which is currently on my desk. Let's discuss the part where I just got an effing doughnut and yet also just spent $104 on The Tracy Anderson Method after watching an infomercial at 1:00 in the morning. Okay, technically I just spent three easy payments of $29.99 plus shipping, which was $470.

Yes, this is totally a photo of me and not Tracy Anderson. I was just parading around here in my heels and enormous bikini top. And fringe.

And I KNOW I'm unemployed. That part crossed my MIND, okay? I was sitting there last night, thinking about how I should really go to bed, having watched Signs on one of those stupid movie channels that still has commercials every six minutes and why do we bother with those horrid channels when (a) there are movie channels that DON'T break for commercial every six minutes and (12) we could RENT movies such as, oh, Signs for five cents through Netflix?

I had forgotten that that was a really scary movie, by the way. Holy cats. Sometimes that M. Night Shamalamadingdong gets it right. I learned to call him Shamalamadingdong from Howard Stern.

Oh by the way, hi. I am all over the place today.

But I wasn't TIRED yet, because I have been unemployed for three weeks now and the wild boar has taken over the domesticated pig and my night-owl self has totally returned, so there I was, looking through channels, and things were a LOT EASIER back when we had to stand up and physically turn the dial and all we got were channels 12, 5 and 25.

Maybe at your house you got three different channels. But you know what I mean. Once we started to have all this crap to look at is when this whole country fell apart and we all became porn addicts and got all our exercise off the TV.

So there was Tracy Anderson, whoever that is, and they'd corrected the SHIT out her face with makeup and lighting, which was irrelevant because they kept showing real women saying, "Three months ago I looked like June." Then they'd show a lumpy person. "Now I look like this!" And they'd show a person who looks like Tracy Anderson.

And that was all it took for me to spend $104 that I do not have, but at least I have all the time in the world to do the 79 workout DVDs that are coming, right? I'd ask you all to order the Tracy Morgan DVDs and do it with me, but remember when we all got on board with Jillian Michaels and her nostrils and I gave up after day three and you poor people who actually meant it were all, "Twenty-seven days! I feel great! ...anyone?"

So that was LAST night, when I was determined to not be fat anymore and to look like Hans Christian Andersen or whomever, and then today I had to take Edsel to the vet.

Even  though, as you can see, we were BURIED under a SEVERE STORM yesterday.

"#@@&$#."

That's my daffodil, there, swearing like a chilly sailor. I had 20 or 30 daffodils, and am getting mixed reports about whether they'll live.

Also swearing was Edsel, who was getting his rabies shot and his distemper because his temper had been dissed.

The vet said he looks good, and he's filled out this year, and "He's cute because he's so goofy-looking."

"#$@$@*&."

So on the way home, I was starving half to death, because it was 11:00 and I hadn't eaten yet and God forbid. I stopped at Krispy Kreme, and I realize I am the only person who likes or even GETS the bagels at Krispy Kreme, but I was all excited and guess what.

GUESS WHAT.

They don't serve bagels anymore. So I was FORCED to get a blueberry doughnut, which is an antioxidant, and I realize Tracy Chapman has her work cut out for her, with these DVDs, and she.better.work and yes, the onus is on her, not me.

Anyway, when said DVDs get here I will be sure to let you know how it goes. And by "it" I mean the part where said DVDs sit darkly under my TV in the cabinet.

My grandma used to say, "Your ass would make him a Sunday face." I know that takes like 15 minutes to figure out.

I am sad about Heidi Klum and Seal, which is not at all pathetic of me, because I know them really well and Heidi Klum and I are like this. But they always seemed so happy, and like such a hot couple, and once again I'd like to remind you of the many times they came over and the marathon phone sesh Heidi and I had that time.

To add patheticness to delusion, I checked America's Top News Source, TMZ, to get the full story, and of course there WAS none, other than they have irreconcilable differences. Gee, do they? That tells us a lot. But in the comments someone said, "Seal looks like my ass with teeth."

And I am sorry but I fell out my chair in hysterics. Because you know that's awful. And yet hilarious. Ass with teeth. Poor Seal.

While I'm on the topic of stalking people, you know how I love the new girl at work?

 

 LOVE.HER. Do you think she'd think it was weird if I followed her around with my bottom teeth out like Edsel?

Here are the shoes she wore to work yesterday.

No, seriously. Like, if I rested my chin on her desk while she worked, that's no big deal, right? And did the Edsel sigh? Hmmmmmmmmm.

you no, edzul resent. do not spend ALL day followeeng m--oh who edz kiddeeng. where you go now, mom?

 I must go now, because Iris has her follow-up vet appointment.

she do?

There is a chance they may have to remove her wonky eye altogether.

wait. wats?

I will inform you as developments warrant. Oh, did I tell you I have a second date with the guy from the other night? Whose blog name is going to be Ranger Johnson, and we did not get that from doing the porn name thing at all. His dad had, like, four dogs as a kid through the years and named them all Ranger. Then when this guy was a kid, they got a dog and guess what they named it?

I mean, take EIGHT SECONDS and think of something else. How could you refer to the dogs of the past? "Remember when Ranger got that skunk?" You'd be all, wait. Which EFFING RANGER?

iris see gud! playing! playing gud! not to take out eye, pleez.

*You know, I heer it just awful, Iris. Terrible surguree. Lily haf many storee she can tell you.*

*no, mamma. not tell iris bad storee. what you mean?*

Okay. Going. Not berserk today at all.