Bye Bye, Pie!

Rain hair

Girl, I got no time to talk today. I am meeting Dot Dot Dot Friend, and I like how that's become his name, for lunch at noon, and it's 10:23 and guess who just woke up 23 minutes ago? So I have to shower and put makeup on and dry my hair, which I assure you is gonna be rain hair because it's, you know, raining.

So I will dash, but not go to Dash, the Kardashians' store, but before I do I wanted to tell you I got sucked into Downton Abbey like everybody else. You know how I have Netflix on my DVD player now? Perhaps you did not see it on your CNN news feed on your home page. Well, I do. I can just turn on my TV with my smile and then say, "Netflix, please" and there it is.

They had season one of Downton Abbey, and I said what the hay.

Guess who sat there for the next seven hours, watching show after show? Then yesterday I went on SnootyPublicTelevision dot com and watched the first two episodes of season two. So now when y'all prattle on about this show in the comments I will not be bored to death.

Speaking of snooty TV, why is Vicky so religious all of a sudden on Real Housewives? It feels phony to me. Especially given that she is such a rude person. God is probably all, "Get her off my team." Wait. I should use some kind of God font. Get her off my team.

God speaks in sans serif, apparently. You know, this Typepad is really crappy when it comes to giving me good font choices. I realize that is kind of a first world problem. But really. It was hard enough finding a Lily font, much less a God font.

I wonder if there's a way to get new fonts in here, so I can have richer font choices when I am making fun of Vicky Gundelson and being sort of blasphemous?

See. This is why I'm late for things. I start worrying abou how to get a God font, then I Google it, and next thing you know I am at lunch in my pajamas.

So okay. Going. Downton Abbey is a good show, though. By the way. I need no fancy font to tell you that.

 

 

Totally a Katie Girl

Good gravy, I love Sex and the City so much.

 

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.

Lip gloss. It's my prerogative.

Yesterday at work I had to fast till my blood test at 10:10.  No human has had to endure more torment. How is it a clock can move so slowly? Oh, I was hungry. Seriously. Kwashiorkor was setting in. Sally Struthers was next to me, doing a commercial about me.

The whole workplace was doing the test. I mean, you didn't HAVE to do it, it was voluntary, but you get cheaper health insurance if you do it, so most of us were. And the other smart people scheduled their tests for, you know, 8:30 or 9:00. Why did I wait till 10:10? Why? Why do I not think?

By the time 10:00 rolled around and I had to go to the testing place next door to work, I crawled over like one of those people in the desert looking for water. And was there a LINE by that time? A LINE. Like we were waiting to go on a ride at Cedar Point. And I like how my example is always Cedar Point as opposed to Disneyland or some other amusement park. Hey. I grew up in the Midwest.

There were orange juice and Nutri-Grain bars for the people--the lucky, lucky people--who were finishing their test, and words cannot describe the lust and envy I had when I watched those people emerge and have some juice. If I could've crawled into their gullets, I would've. Others in line were chatting. One person was talking at the top of her lungs about her medical issues, and how she hates blood tests, and frankly making everyone else a little nervous.

I was speaking to no one. Because at this point I was so food-deprived that I had zero personality left. I was like one of those Macy's floats that had all the air taken from it. I just stood and stared at the ground like I had some kind of disorder.

Finally, FINALLY, it was my turn, and the very nice nurse weighed me (oy), took my measurements (they had to get an extender), and then drained the blood from my body. When I left, I ate a blueberry Nutri-Grain bar the same way Tallulah would have. As in, one bite without tasting it.

I would make a terrible anorexic person, apparently. I have a friend who used to be anorexic, and she told me all about how she ate precisely the same number of calories each day (if I recall, 250) and how she'd go to bed and listen to her stomach rumble. On night one of that I'd be all, "I'm getting up and toasting a bagel."

This is not to say that I have been stable and normal my whole life. See: hypochondria. See: barf phobia. See: panic attacks. I just never got the anorexia gene, apparently.

In other news, now that I've eaten and can think beyond the Nutri-Grain, my lip gloss is here. I got this on Amazon when I was ordering Gentle Leaders for the dogs. As I was checking out, Amazon said, "People who order Gentle Leaders also get this:

Okay, really? For your dog? Because these don't even look like Tallulah's colors. Nevertheless I fell for it, because have you met me? And yesterday Edsel's ice blue Gentle Leader came, as did my lip gloss.

Here I was on the phone with either my father or my Aunt Kathy last night, with the second-from-right color on. Dear dad or Aunt Kathy: Sorry I was playing with lip gloss and taking my own photo while we were talking.

 Please also note my gel manicure. On week two and going strong.

I guess that's all I have to tell you. Other than the part where the Real Housewives reunion was so worth my wait. Waiting till 9:00 last night was almost as hard as waiting for 10:10 yesterday morning. And now I have to wait for NEXT week for part two. I could watch the Real Housewives every day and never grow bored. Yes, I am deeply intellectual.

Some of my girlz watched it with me, when they weren't reading my beauty mags. Like either of them needs those. Tallulah effing hates Dana. We all do.

Okay. Going to shower and then be late for work because I am playing with Bobbi Brown. BOBBAYY!

In which the Feenies and DeFazios are mentioned a bit often

Marvin suggested I paint black spots on Edsel and give HIM to the firemen for saving my life the other day. Now, see? That's why Marvin makes the big dollars. Allllways thinking.

What a valuable asset to a fire Edsel would be. "Oh! Oh Edzul God! Oh no! Edzul flap paws uselisslee! Maybe we play wif Edzul blue toy now?"

No one has Dalmatians anymore. Why is that? My grandfather had them. Somewhere there's a picture of one of their Dalmatians lying on the couch, and me using it as a pillow so I can read. The dog looks all, "Okay, I DO this because I know you kick my spotted ass to curb otherwise, but NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT."

Do you like how my story has progressed to the firemen saved my life? Who can take a nothing story and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile? Well, it's me girl and you should know it.

Speaking of old TV shows, AND I JUST WAS, stop being so young, I was next to a woman at work who had one of those commuter mugs, and it had a giant cursive L on it. "Oh, are you Laverne DeFazio?" I asked her, loving my own self as per usual. Loving me is easy cause I'm beautiful.

"?" said the poor girl sitting next to me, who just wanted to learn about our sign-up process for health insurance this year.

"Laverne. Laverne on Laverne and Shirley. How she always had the L-- Oh my God. Oh Edsel God. You're too young to know who that is."

It had not occurred to me until that moment that anyone would NOT know the ins and outs of Laverne and Shirley's lives. I mean, I refer to them so often. Basement apartments, obnoxious neighbors, boyfriends who go from rags to riches, milk and Pepsi. There are so many reasons to think about Laverne and Shirley. And now there are legions of actual adults with actual jobs NOT KNOWING WHO THEY ARE. It's like I'm Ethel Mertz talking about my days in vaudeville.

Actually, I mention them at work a lot, because remember my last job, where I got laid off with 40 other people? I see SO MANY of those people at my new workplace, and I often say, "This is like when Laverne and Shirley moved to LA, and then so did everyone else from the show, so even though they were in a whole new place, hey! There's Squiggy!"

In fact, just the other day I ran into the artist (copy editor) formerly known as my next-cubicle neighbor, Jane West. She now sits two floors up from me. "Oh, hey! Your hair looks good!" she said. "Is it darker? It was..." she struggled to describe it for some reason. "It was more...blonder before."

Wow.

"What exactly do you do for a living?" I asked her. More blonder.

Anyway, I have to go. We get this thorough health check thing at work today for our insurance--INsurance, as they pronounce it here, and the other day I heard myself say it that way and got annoyed with me--but before that I may or may not be getting Botox. So we are supposed to be fasting and yet I will have botulism coursing through my veins.

Cannot wait for my results. "Everything looks good. Except you have a mild case of botulism."

 

And in case you wondered if Lily is still pretty, she is. Also she adores the webcam, still. NO ONE LIKES THE WEB CAM. She's just like Laverne's stepmother.

 

A linear, one-subject post. As per usual.

I did not mean to insert this photo. Typepad has some cockamamie new thing where they present photos to me really small, but anyway I love this picture as it pretty much sums up my while world. Edsel being involved in being an IDIOT, and Tallulah being sympathetic to my plight. Look at Edsel's muscuLAture, as George Takei would say. Only Faithful Reader Jan will think that George Takei line is funny, as she is the only other person who listens to Howard Stern 4958949 hours a day.

Here is the photo I meant to put in. I could see, like, literally the size of a thumbnail when they showed me photos to plunk, and all I could see was blue and white.

Anyway. Last night Iris and I watched a rerun (and I will not show the opening song of What's Happening again, and for that I am sorry) of The Real Housewives, so we could catch up on the season finale. Who sobbed like an idiot during Pandora's wedding, as though she has known Pandora all her life and has been just waiting for this day? Geez, Iris. You're a cat. Get some dignity.

The reason I couldn't watch my regularly scheduled Real Housewives, or houzewives, as Kyle pronounces it when they show next week's episode ("Coming up, on the Real Houzewives...") (which is better than Vickie, who says, "Prevusly on the Real Housewives." Do I ever get resentful that they have millions of dollars and I don't?) is because I was bowling. You never see the real houzewives bowling.

And by the way, the first "I never watch the real housewives of anywhere" comment gets a piece of teensy Iris poo mailed directly to their door.

Could someone PLEASE make me a list of all the things I'm supposed to send to everyone? I know I am supposed to send a yodeling pickle to Funny in My Mind, for some reason. And Joann said I promised her an inflatable swan or something. Who else?

Anyway, yes. I was bowling. We had a fun night at work, because now we have a fun committee at work, which I volunteered to be on but they wouldn't let me be on it. I resent that. What did they think I was gonna DO?

Botox night at June's work! Hey everyone! It's partner swap night! Be here with your keys at 10 p.m.! (For the record, I'm the EDITOR of the company NEWSLETTER, so pfft! to the fun committee. Pfft! Not resentful and bitter. No. NO!)

New girl came, and guess what she had? GUESS WHAT SHE HAD?????

Has she been put on this earth to torture me with good things? I have been coveting the Hello Kitty bowling ball since 2005, when Marvin and I lived right near a bowling alley in LA. And she just SHOWS UP with it.

Anyway. I just want you to know I bowled 105!!! For me, that is excellent. I emailed this photo to my father, who asked, "Now, was that all three games added up?"

Oh evvvveryone's a comedian. That was the best score I got, though. I got tired of lugging those seven pounds after while. Working out is hard.

While we're on the subject of highfalutin' things like bowling, let's not forget my finances. I paid off the credit card with the highest balance on it, so thanks for your advice yesterday. It currently doesn't have interest, but in a few months it will have terrible interest unless I pay part of it. It's the kind of credit card that is interest-free, per purchase, for 12 months. It's the vet credit card.

do it cover cost of edzul senior piktur?

Who has to stop playing with her new app? Also, I had a DREAM about Pinterest last night. I am pathetic.

pintrist far outs, mom.

Seriously. I need to get out more. But even if I get out I can bring my phone and continue playing with this app.

 dis piktur not disterbeeng at all, mom. where iris milareea pill?

Are we absolutely certain I should not have taken that windfall and used it for therapy? Or a few weeks at an asylum? Do they say "asylum" anymore or is a nicer euphemism used? "Place for people who put their pets' heads on old pictures." Is there a politically correct term for that?

Okay. Going. And by the way, next time I get married I want every single thing Pandora had at her wedding, down to the last pink sparkle. Someone show my mother what Lisa had on, because my hippie mom is gonna have to sport that. It involves a tiara, mom. Just to warn you. Oh, and the wedding cost a million dollars. You're paying for my next wedding, too, right?

Okay, really going. Before hippie mom pops a cap in my ass.

June touches on the many important topics of the day

 must you bozzer. bizzy being gray.

I love how it seems like Anderson Cooper is a solid gray cat, but really he is stripey. He is Fruit Stripe gum. Except his flavor lasts. Fruit Stripe was always such a disappointment 11 seconds later.

Really today I have nothing to tell you except that it was an excellent--EXCELLENT!--episode of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills last night. I like the new young girl, the one who got dumped by her husband so he could marry that not-so-attractive Leann Rimes or whatever her name is. I always thought Leann Rimes looked about 42 when she was 14. I don't know what it is. Anyway, first wife is way prettier. 

And for those of you reading who are named Hulk, so far this post is torment. Cats AND the Real Housewives.

Did you ever notice that they have Kyle doing the "Last time, on the Real Housewives" thing when it starts, and she pronounces it "Houzewives"? Annoying. As bad as Vicki from the Orange County one who says, "Prevusly on the Real Housewives."

Prevusly. Why are these people richer than me?

Oh! You know what I was thinking? I mean, when I'm not having pressing thoughts about the Real Houzewives?

I am fat. Fat phat fat. I was thinking as an incentive, or incenative, as my grandmother would say, you guys could all sign up, and if I don't lose 15 pounds by the end of the year, I have to pay a dollar to everyone who signs up. What say you? I could take a picture of the scale so you know I'm not lying.

I don't mean just the scale. My WEIGHT on the scale. "Oh, June MUST be telling the truth! There's her scale!"

Let me know if you are in. I thought about doing a bet, like if I lose you all have to pay ME a dollar, but the logistics of that are ludicrous. PayPal won't take just a dollar, it'd have to be $2, and that seems too steep. So instead I'll just have the threat that I may owe tens of dollars to my tens of readers.

I have to go shower, as I am wont to do, but before I leave this important and life-changing post, I wanted to show you photo evidence of my pets' dysfunctional relationship.

 

They spend half the day beating the crap out each other. Roger catapults (bah) onto Edsel's head, tearing at his eyeballs and kicking his jugular. Edsel puts that kitten's whole head in his mouth and knocks him over and spits all down his cat back. And then? They hold hands and fall asleep. It's sick, I tell you. It's like every relationship I had in the '80s.

Okay, going now. Oh, and go friend Tallulah Gardens on Facebook to hear about how Edsel peed on her head.

In which June is stuck on the word "appalled"

The angry chair has brought out the anger in my kittens.

I wonder what Francis would think of this? I think he'd have been appalled. And perhaps cranky. Also? Nice cornhole, Roger.

In other news, I will always turn up the volume when this song comes on. I wonder if it's hard for sober Dave Navarro to sit right next to that idiot with the wine bottle?

And hey! We need a new book to read for book club. Suggestions, please. One thing we discussed in the comments was everyone watching It's a Wonderful Life instead of reading a book, as I was as appalled as Francis when I realized some of you hadn't watched it. Suggestions, please.

I must go, as perhaps I stayed up late yakking on the phone again. Oh! But before I do, did anyone see Ryan O'Neal being interviewed on Piers Moran the other night? First of all, what kind of a phony-ass name is "Piers"?

June. Losing readers named Piers since summer of 2011.

How big of a narcissist is Ryan O'Neal? He was appalling! Like Roger and Anderson in the chair, he was appalling! Nothing was ever his fault, he blamed poor Tatum O'Neal for everything. No wonder none of his kids turned out okay. Yeesh. Please tell me someone else saw this.

Okay, really going now.

Goin' to the chapel. Which is 8593055 miles long.

Oh, isn't this the best day ever?!

When my alarm went off at 4:50, Tallulah was all, "You have got to be joking." She lifted her head off the pillow, rolled her eyes at me, and went back to bed. Edsel followed me because he has the energy of 10 hummingbirds.

Anyway, I got on my accouterments for Peg's house:

Which along with my pajamas included my QVC Kate Middleton engagement ring and my wedding veil.

And let me tell you something. Walking over to Peg's in this ensemble at 5 a.m. was one thing. Walking back home at 9:00? People should really watch the road more.

Peg was all proud to be an American with her pajams.

And she had quite the spread, so to speak, and I know these pictures are awful but dude, it was THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, and this was with my PHONE. At any rate, there were scones, and tea, and I made her make coffee which she detested me for, and there was bacon and strawberries and whipped cream.

But she had a spot on the couch all set for me.

And I do not know why I had a different blanket on each leg. IT WAS THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT! Did I mention that?

Anyway.

Here are my thoughts:

I love Prince Harry. I love how he turned around to look at Kate, and William was all being a rule-follower, and waiting until he was supposed to look at her, but Harry was all, screw that. He is so hot, Harry.

As is Pippa. Hello. Who could pull off that dress? That is the meanest bridesmaids dress in the history of time. And yet? She was stunning.

Queen Elizabeth was a marshmallow Peep. Could no one tell her that was not a good shade of yellow? And could she CRACK a smile when everyone is singing that they wish God would save her? I mean, it's kind of a nice wish. Cheer up, sister. You're wearing sunny yellow. Reflect it.

I hate to admit Camilla's dress was pretty.

I thought he would never get that ring on her finger.

Was the reverend or priest or whatever you call Anglican God guys lisping, or was it my scone talking? He was making me think of the guy in Princess Bride. "Wuv, twue wuv."

Okay, and best of all? Sarah Ferguson was not invited, so she said, okay. Let me show you what Ima put my daughters in, then. I do not know if it was Eugenie or Farfernugel, whatever the other one is named, but the one in beige looked like Cindy Lou Who.

I have to go, because I have to WORK. On my DAY. I KNOW! I should totally be at Harry's throwdown later today.

Come back tomorrow for wedding talk

In an effort to avoid doing my statistics textbook proofreading, which by the way I have already spent more than FIFTY HOURS on already, I finally fixed the webcam:

 
Except the part where I haven't figured out how to make the pictures not Lilliputian.

Anyway, two years of old web photos came rushing at me in email, and this one makes me want to kill myself:

Oh, my Hen. With his orange superior glare. This was probably that period from October to May when he refused to grow from catten size, remember?

At any rate, I was really coming over here to tell you that after the wedding tomorrow I will come back from Peg's to give my very-important opinion on everything royal. I am wearing my pajamas, my wedding veil, my QVC sapphire, and my stunning 5 a.m. personality over to Peg's.

My friend Dot asked, "Is Peg making brunch?" but I pointed out to her that you really can't call it "brunch" at 5 a.m. Even the Amish do not brunch at 5:00.

Okay, two posts in one day. I am annoying.

TEAM KATE MIDDLETON!