I think the most important news of the day is that I just got an email telling me my DiorShow Mascara is on its way.
Aaannnd there go the straight male readers. And some of the lesbians.
Look, you don't understand. For someone who is cursed with too much hair, I have these teensy short eyelashes that make no sense. And when I FINALLY found a mascara that worked (Illegal Lengths by Maybelline), they discontinued it.
Because God ABHORS me.
So I've been reading about the supposedly miraculous DiorShow for over a year and it's not like I don't indulge myself regularly so I have no idea why I haven't gotten it until now. But my father gave me a gift certificate for my birthday and I stampeded for the DiorShow. Soon you will be unable to read my posts, so eyelashy will I be. They will be all in your way and you'll be all dang, June, move those lengthy eyelashes.
Speaking of birthdays, and I know I haven't mentioned my own quite enough, it was my neighbor Paul's birthday yesterday. He turned 96. I know we all thought he was turning 97, because he TOLD me he was 96 when I met him, but he must have been rounding up.
In front of his house yesterday was a sign that read "Dads 96! Honk!" without the apostrophe, and it was everything I could do to not go over there with a Sharpie. Nevertheless, I bought some cupcakes because I'm lame and did not want to make any in the 100-degree heat, and took them over there.
"We were just having cake! You come on in and have some!" His daughter ushered me in. Was it rude that I stayed and had cake with his entire family? I tried to not go over there until after a reasonable dinner hour, but can I help it there was cake?
Anyway Paul thanked me for the "cookies" about 467 times, and if you were 96 I'd like to see YOU keep track of cookies and/or cupcakes.
I also found out from his daughter, Lu (but not my dog Lu), that Paul's wife lived to be 91 and she was just fine until three months before she died when she got malignant melanoma. Now, that would suck. You go all that time and THEN you get punished for a little tanning? Still. I guess you gotta die of something by the time you're 91.
Oh! And as the daughter Lu-but-not-my-dog were talking, she said, "I know you. You have two dogs, right?" Turns out? She lives right next door to Snowflake! That's how she said it! "I live right next door to Snowflake. I see you talking to him all the time."
Like Snowflake owns the house. Which is kind of how I feel.
So that was weird. Small neighborhood. But I wouldn't want to paint it.
I guess I'd better go, but oh! Look!
My margarita-hating coworker from yesterday changed her name plate at work. heeeeee.
wate. why dat funnee?
My dogs have zero sense of humor.
