When I was in high school, my good friend Lori Stepenhaum thought she might be pregnant. "Why do you think that?" I asked, even though I knew in graphic detail that she and her boyfriend had Done It every day that month. "My period is a week late," she said, looking terrified. She confided in me because she knew I was the kind of friend who'd never reveal her personal secrets on a blog.
I figured she was doomed, but then the next day in the hall between classes, we saw each other, and she burst out at me, in a ridiculous schoolmarm vibratto voice, "IIIIIII! Love a parade!"
And somehow that was enough for me to know Scarlett had come to Tara. That she had checked into the Red Roof Inn. That she was walking in soft focus on the beach.
You want to know what's annoying about me, other than everything, is I pull out those same tired period euphemisms each time I need them. Hey, I've been writing every day for six years. YOU come up with original material.
Can you believe that? Six years ago December 15 I wrote my first post. Six years ago feels like 10 centuries, so much has happened. Six years ago, I didn't even know how to add a fancy link like I just did. And I had 18 readers. Which is still how many I have on Saturdays.
ANYWAY, yesterday Ned and I hauled ourselves to Randelman, NC to see Violet the puppy in a parade. (Look at June. Linking all over the place. She is starring in the hit movie Linkin' currently.)
Ned has a super-real job, and when I told him the parade started AT SIX in ANOTHER TOWN, he was really unsure he could get away to scream to my house and scream down the freeway. My stories always involve a lot of screaming everywhere, don't they? I'd mostly slept yesterday and got up around 2:00 and did some freelance work (I will NEVER be done with that #$%&#& statistics book), and kind of figured if I went at all, it'd be sans Ned.
But at 5:00, the phone rang. "I'll be right over."
And here's a phenomenon. Turns out? If you ring my bell (ring my bell) during dog dinner? They don't bother to rush the door barking like morons. So there's something new. Also, thanks for the protection, dogs. go head an murdir mom. we habing kibblez.
And here's another phenomenon. Turns out? If you Google it? You find out the parade starts at 7:00. "JUNE! I could have stayed and worked more!" said Ned, like that was a fun option I'd RIPPED from his grasp. We decided to [scream] down there anyway, because who knows what kind of bustling, overwhelming crowd could be filling the streets of Randelman? Plus the media trucks and celebrities with their big limos and all.
We parked near a CVS and got bottles of water, then lamented why neither of us thought to bring a thermos of hot chocolate, possibly laced with alcohol. And may I just add that the world's worst-attituded girl worked at that CVS? I was kind of riveted by her, because it was like I'd left the South and headed right for New York. Lots of parts of Randelman do that to you.
We found a spot on the road
right by the guns and ammo store, which was perfect because I was totally out of ammo.
"Wouldn't it be awful if we schlepped all the way out here and we didn't see Violet?" I mused. "It would," Ned agreed. "Cause there's really no reason AT ALL why we need to be at the Christmas parade in Randelman for any other reason." He pulled his coat closer.
"Is that...rain?" I asked, feeling an icy drop.
We walked till we were standing under the shelter of a gas station and finally we could see flashing lights. "I think I see the parade!" I said. Oh! Violet! I was so excited to see Violet on that truck I could've spit up.
We got to see the cute homecoming king and queen (see above re celebrities). "Who was your homecoming queen?" I asked Ned, who had no idea.
Tricia Marx. That was our homecoming queen. GOD. And I believe Stephanie Zachary and Libby Alexander were the runners up or whatever.
Am I the only one who remembers every second of high school?
Finally? FINALLY???
THE FIRE TRUCK! I started jumping up and down. I knew once I saw my girl I was gonna burst into tears. My little fire dog. "HERE IT COMES!" I screeched.
Aaaaand?
No Violet. No Violet! Anywhere! Where was Violet?!?!
Ned and I looked at each other in disbelief. We'd schlepped all the way out there for zero dog. What gives? I'm totally writing the fire station today to ask where my sweet puppy was. I can't believe it!
So that's my sad parade report. Oh, and getting out of that town during a parade was fun, too. Pfft.
Oh. And before I go, since I kind of...owe Ned a favor, what would be a good Christmas gift for a really smart 15-almost-16-year-old girl? I told Ned about the Christmas I was 15, I got Tatiana perfume and loved it. Also some silver fan earrings from Jacobson's, and yes, I really DO remember what I got when I was 15. Anyway, I guess this particular 15-year-old is more...deep than that.
Suggestions, please.
Dissapointed and standing in the purple rain waiting for Violet,
June
