Bye Bye, Pie!

June writes for four minutes

I have to go to work at old place not last place but place before that (OPNLPBPBT). I have to rush. So I will blog for the four minutes it takes before my french press makes coffee.

A. Tallulah opened and ate an entire bag of jalapeno Cheetos last night. She is a dick. I know I should not even own such a thing but it looked good.

2. Watched old episodes of Entourage last night and it made me miss LA. Because I spent so many days in LA at the hottest clubs and banging starlets.

vii. If Marvin reads this post he's gonna be annoyed I never let on about the starlets.

5. Am excited to see old coworkers today and glad it's the casual-ist place alive, clotheswise.

(b). After, Dick Whitman and I are supposed to go to a film fesival but if I don't hurry I won't get the dogs to daycare and I won't be able to go at all.

**. Yesterday I worked out and then immediately went to Taco Bell after.

(i.e.,). I think girl time is on its way.

XX. Hi, Hulk.

In which June whips out the Johnson

I gots no idea what Ima blog about today. Did you ever try to blog every single day of your life? Because sometimes it's hard. You got nuthin'.

Yesterday ...friend and I went to a movie (we saw Chico and Rita. We totally got to see cartoon sex.) then we had brunch, and there was another Art-O-Mat at the restaurant and of course I bought another $5 piece of art.

I've talked about these 68 times, but Art-O-Mats are old cigarette machines that now have teensy pieces of art in them, from artists from just everywhere. I was torn between getting Scrabble earrings or this wood block, and I went for the block. I would photograph it for you but I am extremely busy.

Should I drive back today and get the Scrabble earrings, too? Please note how extremely employed I am.

Hey, did I tell you I'm freelancing at my old workplace starting later this week? Not the LAST place that laid me off, the place that laid me off before that.

Sigh.

This was where I had to bring in a childhood photo of me, remember? And they put it up in the lobby with everyone else's childhood picture?

Hey, will you remind me to pick up a greenish-brown chair?

Okay, I just went into my archives to find the childhood picture, and I found this passage from back in July 2010:

I could not wait to get home and fix my bra straps. All day my left strap kept visiting my elbow, like they were long-lost friends who couldn't wait for a coffee klatch. Like they were Celie and Nettie in The Color Purple. You and me, us never part. Makidada.

Stupid effing strap. I'm certain I looked professional dipping down my shirt all day.

Who cracked her own self up with that? Also?

 

Here is the thing. Marvin found a lot of funny crap on the Internet and it contributed maturely to my blog. Without Marvin, we'd have never shared the "Hide your wife, hide your kids" guy with each other. I wish I could afford to hire Marvin as a consultant to find me stupid things for all y'all.

...friend is not into the Internet at all. Yesterday he said he thinks the Internet is more a girl thing, which I heartily disagree with. "What about porn?" I pointed out. What do you think? Girl thing or boy thing?

Tallulah just came in here and will not stop obsessively sniffing the floor, and I realize she is a dog and that is her job but it makes me nervous that there is a vole in here or something. I tell you what. If Roger were still alive I'd have no concern that Talu was on vole patrol. You get a blind kitten and a fancy-pants lovely cat to replace Roger, and sure, it's cute and all, but you don't feel quite so...protected.

Remember in Little Town on the Prairie when Laura had a new kitten and it totally killed a mouse even though the cat itself was not much bigger than the mouse? What Laura had, there, was a Roger kitten. And what do you mean no, you don't remember that?

Okay I am off. I have to go to the doctor today for my annual RICOLAAAAAAA! exam. Every year I pull out the RICOLAAAA! joke, and it just gets funnier. Ooo, but before I go, who watched Mad Men last night? That grandma is the best.

Did you hear Whitney Houston died?

I know this was covered ad nauseum in my comments yesterday, but maybe you're one of those people who doesn't read my comments, to which I say, "?" And also, "!" Because not reading my comments is like only eating the hard outside of the Oreo. You don't get the really bad-for-you hydrogenated deliciousness inside.

Yesterday was Whitney Houston's funeral, and even though I had seven hundred thousand four hundred and twelve pages to edit of that book I was given at the last minute, I thought I'd tune into it for a minute.

Three hours and 40 minutes later, it was still going on. Whose funeral lasts that long? I would have been ordering in a pizza had I been at that event.

There were a lot of touching things, actually. Kevin Costner said good stuff and it made you like him. As did Tyler Perry, and I KNOW. Who knew he was likable? But the part that I could not get over was the woman in the crowd with June hair.

 

I know you wish I'd stop blogging with You Tube already, but look at that woman next to Alicia Keyes. She totally has June hair. If you click on the image to blow it up, you can see, but the woman also makes sure to crane her neck, there, so we can all enjoy her June hair for a moment without clicking if we're patient.

We got to see that hair all during Alicia Keyes and also Stevie Wonder, who was never so glad he couldn't see anything. What gives with that woman's 'do? Oh, dear, what if that's one of the Faithful Reader Lisas or something and I have no idea? She'll be coming on here today to be all, "I was at Whitney's funeral!" and here I am, talking about her hair.

Dear Faithful Reader Whomever with the Bad White Girl Fro,

Your loved ones are not telling you that is some bad hair. Relax that shit, honey. For all our sakes.

Oh, also? If you're making a YouTube video? You do not need to SCREAM A TITLE across the screen. We searched for it already. We know what we're looking at. Thanks.

Anyway, good funeral. I had no idea a funeral could be nearly four hours long. Then they all had to traipse to the cemetery, right? I mean, didn't they? Then go have ham? In my family we always go have ham. Usually in a church hall or something.

Doesn't ham sound delicious right now? Why can't I lose the weight?

In other news, I have no other news, because other than watching that 10-hour-long funeral, I had to catch up on all my work, which I did not finish until 11:00 last night. And I didn't finish it, I just read to the page number I had set for myself and have to do it all over again today. Because my life is fun.

Oh, and I gave Faithful Reader PJ comment of the week, because look who is becoming good at assigning Comment of the Week again. Go look in This Week's Special to see. 

When I watched the funeral yesterday, I came to the conclusion that whenever I talk, I wish to have dramatic organ music playing in the background, and I want you all to yell, YES! and AMEN! and wave your arms around and so forth while you read my posts. I hope you have not forgotten this directive.

I went on YouTube (I know. Obsessed.) to find dramatic organ music so you could read my whole post again with said music playing, because I am annoying. But then I found this woman and fell passionately in love with her. How cute is she. "That's not the song I was supposed to sing!" 

I get so bored with my white self I could scream. And why don't I have invisible backup singers?

A post about everything and nothing. Aka what else is new.

I just got back from having dinner with The Other June, and I am writing this before I go to bed. I have a dentist appointment early Thursday morning, so I am writing my post at night, and let me tell you. Things are fascinating over here at House of June.

I hate getting my teeth cleaned. It makes me nervous. And my dentist always comes in after and says, "Mmm. MMMMM! Oh, mmmm. Yeah, how long have you had that old filling?" He's always trying to get ye olde filling replaced that Benjamin Franklin put in for me in 1742, and hadn't Benjamin Franklin been long dead by 1742? June. Knowing her history.

Anyway, my blacksmithed filling is still working FINE, and I don't see why it can't stay in there. It makes a great weather vane, too!

In other news, The Other June and I had a delicious dinner at a pretentious restaurant that serves Southern food, which is kind of redundant. I mean, we're in the South. It's kind of funny to me that they have a fancy restaurant where you can go get...Southern food. Nevertheless, everything was just effing delicious and I highly recommend it. It's called the Southern something-or-other. Get there tout suite.

After dinner, The O.J. came to my house so she could meet Iris and Lily. In the time she has known me, she has met baby Henry,

Baby Roger:

Baby Anderson Cooper:

and now baby Iris.

(I didn't just take that while she's right here on me or anything.) (purring and clutching the pearls.)

Could I stop PLOWING THROUGH CATS, PLEASE?

Also, she came to visit not-baby Lily.

*You understand Lily pretty-est cat ever. That go wifout saying.*

Lily gets her own font, with asterisks, she is so pretty.

And in case you wonder what the hell happened to all those cats because you just got here last Tuesday or something, Marvin took Henry when he left, then delicate, gay Anderson hated living with dogs so I said to Marvin, "Maybe you'd better take Anderson too." So now Anderson and Henry live in connubial bliss, even though I don't really know what connubial means. Then Roger got killed last month and let's talk about that a lot because that doesn't still make me miserable to think about our anything, so I got Iris and Lily at the pound just now.

Anyway. Oh! And before I got up with The Other June and we had our redundant Southern food and she once again met some cats I got, I got me a manicure over at the Elegant Nails & Tan. To which I say, "Define elegant."

My point is, my manicurist talked me into getting this gel manicure, which supposedly will stay on for the rest of my life.

The color is Lincoln Park After Dark, and I had better like it, because apparently I'm being buried in it.

We had a big talk, the manicurist and I, about how she studied French in high school and then in college studied accounting and forgot all her French, then got here and knew very little English. I always wonder how bad it must be to have to move here, give up all that schooling, thrust yourself into a country where you don't know the language, and have to work six days a week as a manicurist.

She works way more than 40 hours a week. She works the whole time the salon is open. How dreadful. Oh! And the woman next to me works for the place that invented those faces on trees. You know how you can buy those woody-looking faces for your tree? Yeah. Also, before she left for her manicure, she told her husband, "I put dinner in the oven, but you have to check it once in awhile." He said, "Well, what am I looking for?"

She was irritated. Also there were two women there getting pedicures and drinking wine. The woman who invented the tree faces told me those women come in all the time. Bring their own cooler. I noticed it took them an hour and a half to drink one glass of wine. What is the point of schlepping a whole cooler of alcohol to the pedicure place if you're not going to drink alcoholically?

I guess that's all I have to tell you. Except that we have a new woman at work and I love her. Today she wore a leopard skirt, a pink shirt with a big flowery frilly thing, and pink sparkly shoes. And she has this framed print in her office that is a picture of Cinderella, and the picture is from the book I had as a kid.

I had TOTALLY FORGOTTEN about this picture but then it all came back to me. This lead me to bring in my fairy tale book from my childhood, which had the most beautiful pictures:

Oh, I used to sit for hours and stare at these pictures. Here is lofty Edsel-looking wolf putting his paw on Little Red June.

I always wanted to find elf and bird tea parties. And did I? Not till I did hallucinogens in college.

I actually have never done hallucinogens. Unless you count Benadryl, which makes me see funny colors and jump off high-rises because suddenly I have peacock wings that fly.

Dude, my swan allergies are killing me. Dude, my princess allergies are killing ME!

I should totally frame these, shouldn't I? Aren't they beautiful? When I really couldn't read I used to make up stories that went with them, kind of like now with the swan allergy story. Not much has changed through the years, except now I apparently have Lincoln Park on my nails for life.

Hold still, darling, and we'll just jooge your flower a little and--voila! FABULOUUUUS! Ernesto, bring that mirror, you lazy antelope. You'd let the lion eat you if it meant moving off the plain while Real Serengeti Wives was on. Oh, sweetheart, you're GORGEOUS! I could EAT YOU UP if I weren't a grass-eating queen!

Maybe I need to get out more.

Talk to you tomorrow, when I have sparkly new teeth. I mean, except for ye olde fyllyng from Geoffrey Chaucer.

Eyeing little cats with bad intent

I have no idea what Ima blog about today. I thought I might just ramble. That should be, you know, utterly painful and boring for all of us.

My friend Paula called me last night. She is my friend from Seattle who had the {cancer}. I whispered it for us so it wouldn't get us. Anyway she is still doing fine, other than she called to complain about a work thing and I hope she isn't gonna get mad at me that I just announced that on this hugely popular blog with tens of readers.

It's been over a year now since she had her hooty-hoot lobbed off (official medical term) and the chemo and all that, and she's had to take this pill ever since to ward off future attacks and it's called something. See. Again I can't think of it. I want to call it Tamiflu but obviously that isn't it.

Last night I couldn't think of it, either and I said, "How are you doing with that pill you have to take every day? Sine-Aid or whatever?"

I don't know what the hell is wrong with Paula that she didn't know what I meant. GOD, she's so SLOW. "I don't HAVE allergies," she said.

Tamoxifen. That's what it is. It sounds just like Sine-Aid. Does anyone who doesn't go in a time machine to 1979 actually TAKE Sine-Aid anymore? And now I will be sued by the makers of Sine-Aid because this blog is hugely popular and read by 16 people. Unless it's a Saturday, in which case it's read by .16 people.

Anyway, the answer to the question was it's a nonissue for her. She does great with Tamiflu.

I used to live with Paula, back when I, too, lived in Seattle where it rained and THIS HAIR had to deal with that, and Paula insisted on taping reruns of Hart to Hart every day. Somehow we remained friends despite this.

In other news, Miss Doxie invited me to her Halloween party this weekend, bringing the grand total of parties I have been asked to up to four. One year this other couple Marvin and I were friends with and -- you know, I don't know how Ima structure this sentence. I'm trying to say the four of us came up with a costume idea. There.

We thought it'd be HILARIOUS to dress up as Abba. Is it ABBA or Abba? The other woman in our foursome had reddish hair, so she could be the less-attractive Abba singer and I got to be the hot blonde, even though in real life this woman was totally gorgeous and it probably would have been humiliating for me to go to a party pretending to be the hot blonde from ABBA. Or Abba.

Agneta? Isn't that the hot blonde's name? See, if I weren't rambling I'd be looking all this stuff up and you wouldn't have to struggle with me through the Abba/ABBA/Agneta thing.

The POINT is, not one person invited ANY of us to a Halloween party. Isn't that sad? And the other couple were a popular duo! I don't know what was up. Now here I am a swinging Larry-on-Three's-Company-Wilona-from-Good-Times-Thelma-Lou-from-Andy-Griffith gal and I have parties up my hoo-hah. Okay, so Thelma Lou was always with Barney. She COULD have been single if she wanted to be.

Can't go to Miss Doxie's, though. Because it's in effing Atlanta. Why doesn't someone dress up in a June costume and crash it?

I guess I must go get dressed and attend work. Tonight I am doing beginner yoga with the receptionist. She was going to be the only one attending the class, so I told her I'd go even though I am not a beginner, and I'm afraid I sent her an email that read, "You are not alone, as Michael Jackson would say." Fortunately the receptionist is used to bizarre emails from me. Once she sent a company-wide email about how a large beehive had been seen by one of the side doors, so avoid that door, and I wrote her back and told her not to drone on.

God, I love me.

Okay, must go. It has been fun nonsensically talking to you like a homeless person on a bench.

June does Pilates. And yoga. It's like two (click) two (click) two melons in one.

I forgot to tell y'all that I smudged the house this weekend. Not that I had a giant finger and smeared my whole house.

Remember the Colombian woman at work? Who told me my house needed to be cleansed? And she brought me some sage? She also said, "What do you think they're doing during Catholic services when they wave that thing around with the smoke?" You know it never occurred to me. They also wave that thing around during Episcopal services.

So I burned my sage. I had to walk around the house and swirl the bowl of burning sage in a clockwise direction--geez. I hope it was supposed to be clockwise. Now what if I did it wrong and this house is swarming with bad energy?

If the smoke died out, it meant that was a bad area and I had to relight the sage until that stopped happening. Guess the first place that happened? The wall where Francis is buried on the other side. Poor cranky demonic Fran. The smoke also died out over my bed. I had to relight that thing 109 times. Nice. My life is delightful.

I also swirled the sage around Edsel, just to cover all my bases. I mean, come on. Have you met Edsel?

In other news, yesterday at work we were gonna re-start our Insanity workouts, and one would kind of think cleansing one's energy and Insanity are sort of incongruous, but there you go. Anyway for some reason the person in charge canceled it, but The Poet who sits next to me said, "Why don't you come with me? They're having Pilates/yoga in the workout room." She had on her "I cannot resist the demonic beat of the polka" tshirt.

So what the heck. I said I'd do pillyoga or whatever. I got into my Rush tshirt (remember when Marvin dragged me to that dumb concert? And for some reason I spent $40 on a tshirt? Remember when I had two incomes and could blow $40 on tshirts? Speaking of which, guess who is mad at me because he has to eat Harris Teeter kitten food? Could it be Roger? Is he on a hunger strike? Is he gonna get mighty hungry, then? His mom is on a five-for-five-dollar Chef Boyardee Ravioli diet until payday so I don't even wanna HEAR it from his gray ass. OH! He is in a huff) and headed to yoga.

Longest sentence ever.

(Plus, Anderson is fine with it and can use the calories.) (From the kitten food, not from the sentence.)

So, I'm headed off to yolattes or whatever and my coworker Vilhelm Oyster is there after 5:00 toiling away. He has the strongest work ethic, Vilhelm. I am not even kidding. Every time I go over there, he is never fooling around on the Internet. And perhaps the part where I am amazed about that says more about my work ethic, but still.

"Namaste," I say to the toiling Vilhelm, bowing.

Vilhelm ignores me.

I wait.

"NAMASTE." I grouse at him. I won't be IGNORED before yolanda or whatever I'm about to do.

Vilhelm turned from his work. "You better check the quality of that namaste," he said, and went back to work.

I heart Vilhelm.

And by the way, my pilyodeloo teacher was the cutest human ever invented. Why are all yoga instructors hot? I had free yoga at my workplace in LA (of course) and the instructor had buttocks like halved melons. The entire time I was supposed to be getting centered and breathing and balancing and doing that dreadful triangle pose, all I could think was, "That butt is fricken amazing. Look at that melony thing."

Okay, I know all this talk about yoga and namaste and cleansing and hunger strikes has been deep, but I must go Wen my hair now. Oh! And I have to reschedule book club. I have two Halloween parties that night (the 29th) and I have a Halloween party Friday night, now, too, so that's out. How about Tuesday, November 1 at 8 p.m.? Can we do that? What say y'all?

NAMASTE, YOU BIG ARSES.

Lord, Lubricate My Bones

Yesterday I was feeling mighty blue. Sobbing constantly blue. Couldn't eat blue, which, bonus!

And I am happy to tell you I had a friend in my hour of need.

Okay, mostly Marvin came over because I had tons of leftover lasagna from my book club, which met here Sunday night. Still.

That's my "the-word-'Greensboro'-written-in-Hebrew" shirt, which I love. I similarly got one for Marvin, back when we were still cohabitating, only his is forest green. Note my shirt is blue, to match yesterday's mood.

Anyway, I told Marvin about Daniel Boone person-who-shall-not-be-mentioned, even though he probably didn't want to hear about it, but hey, free lasagna. And my lasagna is effing good. When you make one dish, you do well at it.

So he's sitting over by my color-coordinated bookshelf, Marvin is, and he gets down a book.

"Hey. This is mine," he says, interrupting my reverie.

Y'all. It was this whole book of--guess what?--horrifically bad album covers. I know the title keeps it a mystery.

Dude. You have never seen such, you know, bad album covers.

I started to titter a tad.

And maybe giggle.

And, you know, pee myself.

Was in physical pain at this point.

Could I? Could I have a night cap with Larry? One can dream.

June's new motto. And also hairdo.

Once I got to the lubricated bones, I was a mess. I was laughing so hard I thought I might barf. Oh, Reverend Clarence.

And really, maybe you...shouldn't.

Am weak. Why is there an eightball in a casket? I have no idea.

I guess I do not need to tell you I was...cheered by the bad-album-cover book. As in, Marvin left and I was in a heap on the couch. Oh, dear God.

Also? I didn't let him have it. The book, I mean. Hey, he left it here. Possession and nine-tenths and all.

Anyway. Thank you, Marvin, for having a stupid book like this that I never once looked at before this night.

And of course, thank you for the dove.

whY mom sAy the bAD wurdSS?

Written by Edsel Gardens, guest poster

Edsul wait. He wate for mom to get home. Edsul stand on cowch. When mom get home? When mom get home? Yousalee she home by now. Where mom. Chew on cowch a little.

Mom get home. "I work late" mom say. "I work hard today" mom say two. "It rayning. Do Edsul and Taloola want to go outs?"

Edsul go out. It wet in sky. It wet a lot. Edsuls run around Nyway. It fun. Taloo not like when it wet from sky. Taloo stand at door. BARK say Taloo. BARK! she say. BARK! BARK! BARK!

"Okayyyy, Taloo," say mom. She have book in her hand. "Mom work lots. Mom want to reed her book now."

We go in. Mom makeeng soups. She feed dum cats. She feed Taloo. She feed Edsuls. It brown crunchy food, which is Edsel favorite. crunch crunch crunch. Good is food.

"STOP IT RODGERS!" I heer mom say. Rodger have head in pan. He eating mom soop. "STOP IT!" she say. Rodger keep eeting soup. Taloo is giggling. Rodger is giggling. Mom put Rodger on floor.

"Mom just want to eat soop and reed #$%&# book" she say.

We all go over to mom an her soop. Catz climb on mom. Taloo put foot on mom. Edsel show mom bottom teefs.

"EVryone leeve mom alone" mom say. "Mom JUST WANT TO READ BOOK AND EAT #%$$@@# SOOP."

Catz still climb on mom. Eds still show teefs. Mom put bowl away. She sit on cowch.

crunchcrunchcrunch

"EDSEL WHAT YOU HAVE" say mom. She sound mad. Edsul run. Mom take screw out Edsul mouf. Screw left from when mom put new curtains up in sky.

"MOM JUST WANT TO REED BOOK! #&%@@&##" she say.

She sit on cowch. She open book.

Skrinkle! Skrinkle! Skrinkle!

WHAT NOW!! mom yell.

Rodgur chewing plastyc bag. He have head way in there. "GET OUT OF BAG!" mom say. She put bag away. She open book. She close book. This time mom stompeeng.

"GET OUT OF CAT FUD!" mom yell. Andersun in cat fud bag. He tear big whole in there. He standeeng in hole.

"MOM JUST WANT TO REED BOOK" say mom. She look upsets. "$@@#%^&!" she say.

Edsul come to help. He lay on mom. He watch mom reed book. Taloo come lay on mom too. Taloo say, Hmmm. Hmmmm.

...HMMMMMMMMMMMM.

"We not going on walk Taloo" mom say. "IT RAINING RELLY HARD. NO WALK."

Hmmmm, say Taloo.

I JUST WANT TO REED MY BOOK, yell mom.

Edsul get kind of nervus. Chew mom blanket just a little. Mom say LEEF IT and read her book.

HMMMM, say Taloo.

Mom get big nostril. Her face look mad. Edsul come in heer and write post.

Think mom just want to reed book.

The new June Brady!

Hello!!!

Guess who has her new computer? Guess who had to call India and say the eff word to get on the Internet with her new computer? Guess who is on the Internet now and happy happy happy with her new computer?

I wonder how many times I can say "new computer" in this post.

My NEW COMPUTER has all kinds of special effects on my new webcam. On my new computer.

I'm in France! Fingering the Eiffel Tower!

AAAACCCK!

Okay. Done playing with effects.

Maybe.

Will talk more later. When done playing with, you know, NEW COMPUTER.

Marvin is here. Oh, look. He's sporting plaid.

M-i-c. K-e-y. G-o t-o Halifaxxxxxx....

I know that you tune into this blog because I am exciting, and my life is one adventure after another, and I am kind of like Indiana Jones.

Also you tune in because of my current, hep references.

I have not let you down today, and thank heavens you are blowing off work to see what I'm up to, because? Are you ready?

Yesterday I tried honey fig Greek yogurt.

I KNOW! Usually I just get honey Greek yogurt, and yesterday I said, "What the fig."

It was good, too! I kind of feel like figs are the new pomegranate.

To wayke us up when mom do something gud.

Okay, FINE. I also got mad at John Stewart, is that more interesting?

I tuned into the Emmys last night, and I wasn't even gonna, but there was nothing else to do. And they were just awarding comedy shows. They showed all the writers of John Stewart's show, and The Cobert Report, and Conan, and you know what pissed me off? On each show, there were at most two women working as writers.

Really? Are we THAT unfunny? I mean, don't take today's post as an example of my stellar hilarity. But really?

In high school, my boyfriend Cardinal and I were both voted class clown, and you know what? Everyone thought he was effing HILARIOUS and everyone thought I was weird. We had exactly the same sense of humor.

Being a girl. It is unfair. Still. I wouldn't want to be a boy, like Chaz Bono. I do not wish to rollerskate backward or go to war.

I would, however, like to be able to pee in the snow. Just once. I mean, I could pee in the snow NOW, but there'd be little chance I'd be able to write "June" in there.

I have lofty goals.

I leave you with this, which I took with my phone from my car last night.

I already hate those little images on the backs of (usually) minivans where it shows you the stick figures of who is in their family. And if you have these, I apologize, but they are annoying.

So NOW? We have to see who is in your family in Mickey Mouse disguise. Unless this person lives alone and has gotten very attached to her pest problem.

Geez, Louise, I have to go, but remind me to tell you about what the psychic said to me on Sunday. I will tell you tomorrow. She should have warned me I'd go on about yogurt and forget all about her.