Yesterday was a momentous day, and you might want to mark your calendars: I got Ned to eat dinner at Taco Bell. I have brought Ned over to my dark side.
You know how I told you I had scream therapy and a movie on Monday? That afternoon, I was killing my own self to get all my work done so I could stampede to therapy at 5:30 and emote or whatever. At 5:20, I was just getting in my car when Ned's train whistle whistled at me. His ring tone is a train. He used to live eight inches from the train tracks, like he was Nell on Fractured Fairy Tales.
A huge chunk of fur just flew into my coffee.
Anyway, Ned was calling to say, "Oh hey! Guess what? Therapy is on Tuesday this week. Who knew?" So at that point we just went home and had eggs, and saw The Lady Vanishes in a leisurely fashion afterward.
Then yesterday, we really DID have the therapy, and we had Planet of the Apes at 7:00. This meant we had 30 minutes between events. "I'll go get Taco Bell, and you go feed the dogs and I will meet you at home," I told him.
"I want two Cool Ranch Dorito tacos," said Ned, just like he was an expert at attending Taco Bell. Also, I like how if he's going bad, he goes all the way. Cool Ranch tacos. Good lord.
I went classic and got two Taco Supremes. The Chanel of Taco Bell food. Remember back when Taco Bell first opened, and they showed you how to pronounce each word on the menu? "Ta-cooo." "Bur-eee-toe." It was all so international.
When we were in our 20s, my friends Esmerelda and Cardinal may or may not have been under the influence of yellow beer when they popped into a Taco Bell late at night. Esmerelda consumed approximately seven calories a day, so I cannot imagine what she ordered. Cardinal asked for pinto beans with "sour cheese."
"Do you HAVE sour cheese?" asked Esmerelda, loving herself. Anyway, that's been one of those jokes that will never die, like when my uncle called a funeral a "death party." Some things you have to keep bringing up.
Like when Hulk married his mother.
Like the "and right then, I knew" joke.
Also in my family, whenever anyone tells you anything for the 200th time, you say, "Did you hear Bob and Lana got a pool?" I wasn't even THERE for the original "Bob and Lana got a pool" repeated conversation, but everyone says it now anyway, including me.
Do you HAVE sour cheese?
I have no idea how I got off on this tangent. But tonight we don't have a movie. They're showing one at our old theater, but whatever it is, it's stupid. We will be back, though, on Thursday, for Girls Girls Girls. I think I should totally bring a lesbian date. Two of them. Then Ned will be with girls girls girls, which I can't imagine he'd turn down.
Is there anyone out there whose husband or boyfriend would NOT want the girl-on-girl action? Is there any man who's not trying to wrangle that at all times? Once after I was married for a year or two, I went out salsa dancing with my coworker and her husband. I guess it goes without saying that Marvin did not go with me. I know back when I was married you got sick of all my Marvin's-out-salsa-dancing-again stories. You were all, seriously? Again? Did Bob and Lana get a pool?
The point is, the husband kept trying to buy me tequila shots, and he kept saying, "Kiss Angie. Go ahead, June, kiss Angie." I mean, nothing's sexier than some drunk husband trying to orchestrate a little girly action for the evening. I'd been doing step aerobics and getting French-nail-tip manicures with Angie for the better part of two years at that point, and never once had it dawned on me to kiss her.
I know it's been awhile since my public service announcement that if you are still getting French tips, the '90s called and would like their manicure look back. Ditto for French pedicures. In fact, if you are still getting French pedicures, you might as well hang it up and get elastic-waist jeans. You have given up on being fashionable.
Very little infuriates me more than a French pedicure.
Oh, I know what infuriates me more. Those haircuts where it's a longer in front short bob, like your hair is a horseshoe. Stop it. Nothing says hausfrau like that 'do. I know I am not one to talk about hair, but I'm hair disabled.
I guess I will go now, and I really wish I had covered more topics and said less than I did today. I will leave you with the following thoughts. Oh, good, more June thoughts.
Thought #2. I just announced, as I was typing this post, "I am sick of pets." No one was here to hear it but the pets. When I showered, NedKitty stood on the tub and licked my legs the whole time. Then as I blogged this riveting post, Edsel did this.
She huffed on over to the bed, where apparently Angie's husband is, shouting, "Kiss Tallulah!" to Edsel. Eds will always say yes to tequila shots. I've given up having a bedspread until a real guest comes over.
Oh, and before he left, Ned managed to trip over Lily and almost die today. So really. Sick of pets. Who ACQUIRED all these pets? Okay. I know I am the 4 out of 5 dentists surveyed in this scenario. Shup ip.
Shup ip. Goddammit.