Bye Bye, Pie!

JG + DWM = TLA

Yesterday I had brunch with Dick Whitman's mom. It was very pleasant to meet her.

Oh please. I LOVED HER!!! Wait. More exclamation points are needed! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I knew she'd be the bomb.

Every story Dick Whitman ever told me about his mom, I would listen and then say, "I love your mom." I think I said that from the first story. And we share a birthday. And she Facebook Likes all the pictures I have of cats. AND SHE READS MY BLOG.

What's not to like?

But then I got there and she was even better than I had imagined. Oh, she was charming, she was hilarious, she was thoughtful about the predicament Dick Whitman and I are in, with our new singlehood and all.

At one point, Dick Whitman mentioned my dogs for some reason. "She has one dog, Tallulah, who's a little wild."

I was about to yell at him when Dick Whitman's mom said, "No. Tallulah is the calm one. Edsel is crazy. I know more about her dogs than YOU do, and I've never been there."

Seriously. How could you get Tallulah and Edsel confused? I think Dick Whitman is indifferent to dogs. YOU'RE INDIFFERENT TO DOGS, DW!

She talked about how she tried not to interfere in her kids' lives, and how she was worried meeting me would count as interfering. How cool is she?

Anyway, I could have stayed there all day, talking about Dick Whitman's ear infections that he got as a kid, and which old movie stars we liked and who was stupid, and how chickens don't taste right now that they're pumped full of hormones and kept in a cage.

And there was an Art-O-Mat at the restaurant! Y'all know how I always have to put my $5 in there, and no I DON'T know why my savings account has $9.48 in it. What do you mean?

Art-O-Mats are old cigarette machines that some genius, meja, decided to turn into a vending machine for teensy works of art. So artists from all over, including my friend Charlie with the orange hair--who by the way now has a girlfriend with pink hair and thank heavens he went back to brown hair, because that combo makes me queasy just thinking about it--put their art in these machines.

Yesterday I got a teensy patron saint--It was St. Zzzzzz, for a good night's sleep. I need that. When you sleep with the entire animal kingdom, not to mention occasionally King Don, you don't always get your rest.

As if meeting Dick Whitman's mom weren't good enough, I got home and decided to pay bills, because they'd all been languishing on my secretary gathering cobwebs. I don't know why King Don doesn't just pay my bills. Shouldn't he be wealthy?

Anyway, I decided to check my bank balance before I went around paying bills all willy-nilly, and I had a TON more in there than I thought. This is because Google Ads just deposits money right in there, and no one had said, "Hey, June, you got paid for your ads!"

I could not even stand the temptation. I sat here and debated for awhile and finally called the Tall Boy. "I have surprise money. Should I go stampeding to the Apple store and get another iPhone?" I think I have whined about having no iPhone a mere 49493002202 times to Tall Boy.

"Yes," he said, sounding weary. "If I found out I had extra money, that's certainly what I'd do." Tall Boy is not what you'd call up on technological advances. In order to email him, I have to send a Pterodactyl over there to crank up his internet. He's, like, the only boy I know who isn't into all that crap. It is kind of refreshing.

So who went over to the Apple store on African American Friday, as Hulk calls it? Who is an idiot? I mean, other than Hulk. Dudes, there was a LINE, with a ROPE, like we were all trying to get into Studio 54, and will somebody PLEASE give me a club that has happened since 1977 so I come up with a better example next time this comes up?

I was behind a very cranky techno nerd who kept glaring at me when my purse touched him, and I'm SORRY I am not a motionless blowup doll like you're used to, and I was in front of two Asian girls who had some sort of cultural idea of personal space that differed from mine. Can only hope I gave them my shingles.

The point is...

yay!

And I got the cheap old 3G, and that's all I need. Girlfriend's ad revenue isn't DOOCE good. But oh! How I played with it and tormented Tall Boy with photos of my car and my pets and more of my pets and who wishes he'd said I should invest that money in bonds or something?

Do you enjoy my gray robe and t-shirt from The Turkey Roost, which is only the best restaurant in Michigan? If you are in Michigan right now, get in the car and drive to Kawkawlin. You will not be sorry. Try not to picture my I-just-got-up hair when you are eating.

Oh! And Dick Whitman's mom said I have to stop complaining about my hair, as she thinks it's lovely. "You don't think it looks like George Washington?" I asked her. She paused, realizing it totally does. "Well. Now you're just looking for flaws."

So there it is. Would totally marry Dick Whitman to get to his mom. We could each date whomever we wanted, and he could continue to think Tallulah is Edsel. Sounds promising!

I'll email you the wedding photos from my iPhone.

June has first-world problems

In case you were fretting and wringing your hands, I seem to be on the mend.

I realized, being home all these days in a row, that I don't get to see a lot of pretty-things-the-light-does in my house, because I am off toiling all day. At least my iron gets to appreciate it.

I also had much time to enjoy Roger and his tail. Seriously, that tail is frightening. You know how sometimes cats are born with two faces? I think he got the tail of some sibling in the womb. Just added it to his own. He can leap from the counter all the way across the room to the top of the fridge with no effort whatsoever. He is a chimp. A kittemp.

"Kittemp" makes a ton of sense.

I did drag myself up off the couch yesterday to go to the movies. I saw 50/50, that movie with Seth Rogen where his friend has cancer. You know how I am--a cancer movie is just my style. Anyway, it was really good and I highly recommend it. One barf scene.

Maybe this should be my new calling in life, alerting you to barf scenes in films. Except then I'd have to sit through barf scenes, which is why I have never seen Stand By Me or Bridesmaids.

Oh, and also? My new phone came, and I desperately miss my iPhone. Am unsure if I can go on with this barbaric phone. I mean, there's starvation and war and pestilence, but come ON. Those things are bad, but living without an iPhone once you have tasted the sweet plastic or whatever? There is nothing worse.

Oh! And in other pressing news, I got my check from Google ads (thank y'all), and I stampeded to the bank to deposit it last night (my mail now comes after 5 p.m. It used to come at 10 a.m. and then they laid everyone off or something and now it's practically dark out by the time I get my mail. First I have to tolerate no iPhone and then THIS? I am practically The Little Match Girl at this point.) and as luck would have it, you can SEE an Ulta store from my bank. Now, you know I detest the Ulta since they screwed me over last year.

However. I got my annual Allure Best of Beauty edition this month, and let me tell you, there is no porn in all the world as exciting as Allure's Best of Beauty edition. This year they featured 193 beauty products that they think are the best right now.

Each year I pore through Allure's Best of Beauty like it holds the secrets to the universe. Because it does. And what Allure told me was that Ulta had the best nude lipstick, and that it was less than three dollars.

So as much as I detest Ulta, I went in. I have been battling with myself for weeks now--should I go in or not? There were my principals, but there is also the part where if I just found the right nude lipstick my life would be complete.

So last night I did it. I went to effing Ulta. And do you know they have all kinds of things that are new in there? Oh, I had fun. I forgot I felt ill. I forgot I hated Ulta. I forgot I am broke, despite my giant Google ads check.

I fell in love with this perfume even though it is called So Hooked on Carmella and I really have no wish to smell like Tony Soprano's wife.

I had trouble finding the Ulta lipsticks, because they differented everything up in that store since I last stormed out, but finally I did, and guess what. GUESS WHAT.

That lipstick and that less-than-three-dollar-price did not exist. And THIS is why I hate Ulta. And also Allure's weird tie to Ulta.

However.

I found an Ulta lipstick for $8 called Pink Chocolate or Chocolate Pink--whatever--and oh, did I like it. And this is JUST WHAT ALLURE WANTED ME TO DO, was to go into that satanic Ulta and end up spending more than three dollars on something else.

Dammit!

But oh, that Pink Chocolate or Chocolate Pink is an excellent color.

I am very linky today. I am Linky Tuscardero.

Have I already done that one? I know in the past I have been Abraspam Lincoln and Link Martindale. It's hard to keep track of all my hilarity.

So I guess that is all I have to tell you about my purchases and lusts and willingness to forget my principals.

Oh! And comment of the week goes to Amy in MD. I do not know if Amy is literally inside a doctor or what. But for some reason her little quip cracked me up.

Carry on.

Post. Posty post post post.

Sorry to take so long to post today, and I like how I have to apologize for not POSTING first thing in the MORNING on a SUNDAY when people like Miss Doxie go a year between posts and I post every day, and I wonder if I could cram the word "post" into this sentence one more post time post?

Post.

I was at church. I am not even kidding you. Yes, I did look at the ceiling to see if it was caving in.

My friend Ann said I should go to church with her some Sunday, as she goes to a traditional church but it has an all-inclusive feel to it that appealed to me, and this week when I was waiting for that company to call me for an interview, I promised God that if they called I would go to church.

You really don't want to renege on a promise to God. Especially the day before a job interview.

And I really liked it there! The minister was a woman, and she had a lot of interesting things to say, and everyone was friendly and just like my church back in TinyTown, there was food after. Which you know matters to me. Because you get HUNGRY sitting there that time of day. I think bagels should be a traditional part of a church service.

Anyway, I have to post post post this post and then leave again, because another friend is having a show at a gallery, and I do not know why I know so many artist types when I cannot draw an asterisk that doesn't look drunk.

So yesterday I managed to work nine hours, because did I MENTION I have to proofread five textbooks first if I get this job, and then I also dashed off and did some intense shopping for my interview outfit, and I also weeded the yard for a sweaty unbelievably humid hour and all in all it was a relaxing day.

Marvin took apart our whole archway thingie in the back yard where our gate is and then put it back together, because he claimed it was "falling apart." Things are forever falling apart, according to Marvin. This is a common refrain from him. "We should get a new whatever for the whatever," I'll say, and you can imagine it's fun to be around me when I speak so specifically. "Why bother?" Marvin will say. "That thing's falling apart."

I'd like to take Marvin to some ruins one day, so he can see from falling apart.

Anyway, he drilled and he hammered and he moved and he got all flushy, and at the end of the day he said, "Look at the arch! Doesn't it look good now?"

He was so proud. You guys. It looked exactly the same to me. I feigned thrilledness, though. "Looks great!" I enthused. "Yeah, it was falling apart," said Marvin.

It was getting dark, and we had both worked like pooches, and I said, "Would you like to sit on the porch and watch fireflies with me?" So we sat there, and a breeze finally kicked up, and the katydids started chirping, and there went the fireflies. Henry and Winston were hiding on each other in the monkey grass, so every once in awhile a cat would BOUNCE UP out of the jungle to land on the back of the other.

It was so nice, but I was parched and tired. You know I don't drink, but you know what sounded delish to me right then? Was a big giant beer.

"God, I wish I had a Bud Light," I said. Because I am from Michigan. Our first instinct is for a domestic beer. Sue us.

"You want to be a firefly?" asked Marvin, who have I mentioned 20 times is hard of the hearing?

"A BUD LIGHT. BUD LIGHT. Not a BUTT LIGHT," I told him.

Really looking forward to when we're 80.

At any rate, here's what I bought yesterday in my intense hour of shopping:

I bought some blinds. No, no. I bought this necklace, to go with my new jacket and new black pants, which, why do they make pants so ding-dang LONG now? I'll need stilts tomorrow.

Also, I purchased this stuff to color in my gray roots. Because naturally they popped out right when I got this interview.

And finally, I got these shoes. So I'll have on a black jacket and pants and these red shoes. I am excited. Maybe I'll put my feet up on the table so everyone can appreciate them during the interview process. Do you think?

I had better go look at art then return back here for 22947439 hours of proofreading. I guess if I don't get this job, I'll be way ahead on my work, at least. And I can sit around the house in my red shoes. And sweats. That'll look nice.

P.S. Post.