Yesterday I had turkey. You?
I joined my friend Laurie, who is a capable adult, and please note the part where I tend to hang around capable adults. However, THAT TURKEY WAS MADE BY ME. And purchased by me. With a little help from a lesbian.
And dear lesbian readers, am I offensive when I make these jokes? I hope not. Please come slap me with your lesbian livers if I am.
As usual, I was helpful and mature in the kitchen, and not at all such a pain in the arse that you just wanted me out of there.
This, of course, is not a skill I have crafted over the years or anything. "Hah haa! Okay, June. Now real work has to commence. Go watch TV."
In my own way, I am a genius.
Laurie, being an actual real photographer, and note how I find THOSE to hang around with, too, with my narcissistic self, told me to go outside so she could photograph me, and we discussed how I am a lovely friend because I do not do the annoying, "Oh! I HATE pictures of myself!" thing.
Dear people who say that: Get over yourselves. We all have to look at you all the time. If you hate seeing a picture of you, just don't look. Let us snap the damn photo and move on. Or I'll have all the lesbians come slap you with their livers.
Speaking of livers, Laurie asked, "Will it bother you if I have a glass of wine?" and I never want people to feel like they can't go ahead and drink in front of me. I mean, watching people get DRUNK is annoying, but normal drinkers are fine for me.
Except OH MY GOD she is such a normal drinker. She poured that ding-dang glass of wine and TWO HOURS LATER there was still some in the glass. And she'd leave it over across the room, forgetting about it, whereas I would have duct-taped it to my hand. Finally, I said, "Are you EVER gonna drink the rest of that wine?"
Not that I was obsessed with it or anything.
Laurie, when she wasn't ignoring perfectly good alcohol, and talk about your alcohol abuse, noted that my Latisse is really kicking in. Hello, lashes! I used to use the blackest of black mascara and I'm starting to think I should move on to brown-black so I don't look so harsh. I mean, you used to never be able to SEE my eyelashes before this.
Straight male readers...?
I know how we can get them back. PILLSBURY PENIS ROLLS!
It was my job to roll the crescent rolls, and folks, what the hell is wrong with me? Why can I not roll them in the nice crescent shape? That one in the middle looks exactly like when Edsel has the lipstick out. I'm sorry but it does. The rest are like Vermicious Knids. What the Sam Hill? Can anyone identify what I do WRONG, because this is not the first time I have made this tactical error.
Despite this, Laurie trusted me with sharp implements, although note she only let me play with the end of a carrot. And if you're thinking my little cherry barrette is cute, I used to, too, and this morning I got up and Edsel had eaten it.
Finally it was time to eat, and I got a glass of traditional Thanksgiving urine and we were set to go. I said, "Let's not eat like my dogs, where they stare down at their bowl and consume everything in sight then look up for more after they've licked the plastic. Let's enjoy this."
Eight minutes later, we looked up from our empty plates for more.
Oh! We were stuffed. We were not even able to have dessert, so later this weekend Laurie is coming to have pie with June of the Pie.
Afterwards, I said, "Let me help clean up" with the enthusiasm of a tree sloth, and Laurie said, "No, I got it" and I said "NO NO, let me help" as I got my coat and she said, "Really. I've got it." Please note that DAMN GLASS OF WINE that she never finished.
Anyway, it was a lovely THANKSgiving, as they say here, and I was grateful to have Laurie to spend it with me. Mostly because otherwise I would have had just turkey. And a messy kitchen. And who would have photographed me all day?
Now I have to get ready because I'm (sit down) having brunch with DICK WHITMAN'S MOM today!
!!!!!
Hi, Dick Whitman's mom!
Am so excited I could spit. She STILL reads this blog. Half the time I'll hear from Dick Whitman and he'll start out with, "My mom tells me [insert June life event here]." I wish I had met her on Match. We'd still be together.
Do not fret. I will be reporting on this fabulous meeting of Dick Whitman's mom--my birthday twin--tomorrow. And we will begin our good deed project. And keep sending in your photos! I love how almost everyone has included a pet. You all know me too well.
