Yeah.
Okay, first of all, I was having a deeply intellectual evening recently, wherein I was smelling the perfume samples that came in a magazine. I said to Marvin, "Does this one smell like someone put bug spray on a Sweet Tart?"
Marvin, who is totally over me and the part where I think things smell like bug spray on a Sweet Tart, smelled the sample and said, "No, I'm really getting more lighter fluid on a King Don."
A King Don. Who kills me? Has he been in a basement since 1975? When is the last time you thought of Ding Dongs as King Dons?
Marvin just walked in and saw this and wants me to be sure to clarify that Ding Dongs and King Dons were also Ring Dings, depending on where you grew up. Holy mother of God.
THEY'RE DING DONGS, OKAY? NOT RING DINGS. And certainly not King Dons. King Dons. Go, Marvin and his '70s references. Do you think he also wonders why I don't pull on my L'Eggs pantyhose every day?
You know, they have Sheer Energy.
By the way, I love how King Don has an All Rights Reserved R not only next to his name, but also next to his arse. THIS IS KING DON'S ARSE! DO NOT STEAL!
I don't know if you've looked recently but I think I stole King Don's arse since I started this food-centric job.
I did just get some "boyfriend" jeans, though (see me pulling off the tag so I'm not like Minnie Pearl). Do you enjoy my phony quote marks? Do you enjoy how the world has tilted in a drunken fashion? We are on a very angled part of the globe. I don't even know how we don't fall off. Anyway, I said "boyfriend" because it is the new term of art for "loose." For "I am a fat-ass because all they do is feed me at my job so these 'boyfriend' jeans will give the illusion that I am thin. Even though if I keep eating this way I will never get a boyfriend for as long as I live."
I guess I never will get a boyfriend, due to the part where I am married. Darn, that's the end.
In other news, it has been a long time since I've worked in a high-rise, and I forgot how much I hate people who get on the elevator and TAKE IT ONE FLOOR. I mean, I know I just admitted to getting fat phat fat, but come ON. Today I watched a woman take the elevator down one floor SO SHE COULD SMOKE.
Irritating.
Oh, also? If you work in an office? You know what's pleasing? Get on the speaker phone and then be sure to scream into the phone so we can hear every nuance of your call. Because the rest of us have nothing better to do than hear BOTH YOU AND YOUR CALLER.
Did I have a blog when I worked with that funny guy named Dan in LA? He was hilarious. He brought a whoopee cushion to work, and he said, "Hey June. After lunch let's go ride the elevator, and I'll bring the whoopee cushion, and when it gets really crowded in there I'll lean back on it!"
On my way down the elevator on the way to lunch, just anTIcipating that we were gonna do that later, I got hysterical and started giggling in that uncontrollable way where everyone looks at you, and no one had any idea why I was convulsing and snorting and oh, I miss Dan.
Speaking of my cats, which we were not but did I not tell you we were gonna cover just everything today, my friend Pal from MA sent Henry some toys today, because I keep blogging about poor Henry needing to have something to play with, and how he keeps climbing the shelves in the closet looking for his old toy, and you all think I abuse and neglect Hen.
With his sparkly kitty fur.
But see, here is what happens to all his toys.
Toy for Hen? Okay, Hen stop grimacing at you and play.
Henry not know why he beaming up in these pictures. Not know why mom cannot take pictures. Where grandpa and his photo skillz? Why mom inherit nothing but grandpa George Washington hair? Why Henry not Pioneer Woman kitty? At least then we win award sometime.
Okay, seriously. She was fast asleep in her dog bed, but she KNEW Henry was having fun, and her devil head appeared in no time. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS, folks.
Toy for Talu?
No, toy for Henry!
Grrrr...!
Okay, toy for Talu. Goodbye.
Yaymmmm, grrrrrrrrmmmmm, toy for Lu! Rowrrr, rowrrrr...
She takes everything. She eats all toys. This is why Henry is neglected in the toy dept.
Oh, don't feel bad for him. He has murdered two actual real mice outside this week and I watched him swoop a fly into his lips right in the living room this weekend. He stays amused.
I think that is all I had to tell you. Can you believe that? It was so brief. Did you want me to bring up another ludicrous memory from the '70s before I go?
I totally had the green one. It was mint. I did not know I should be cool and get the red Strawberry Swirl like Kim Basinger.
