As I was logging in today, there was an article on the side of the log-in page called something like, "Seven Blogging Mistakes You're Probably Making." Probably rule number one is blogging about what you see on your sign-in page. Also, I understand that some yahoo somewhere determined we all stampede to articles with numbers in the headlines, but cut it out already. "Eight things you're doing to irk June!"
Speaking of which, at work the other day I announced to the open floor plan that I am officially sick of the phrase "fun facts." "Is that a fun fact about you?" my boss asked. Then he ordered a coffee mug for his own self: "World's Hilariousest Boss."
Anyway, three groups of people trooped in here yesterday to look at m'house. None of them want it.
Seriously. That horn never ceases to me funny to me. World's Hilariousest Blogger. So far I probably have
Four blogging mistakes in a post.
1. Blogging about your sign-in page. 2. Blogging about your boss. 3. Same tired-ass horn joke. 4. Blogging about your sign-in page. 5. Repeating yourself. 6. Making number lists different from your title.
And look. Maybe they WILL call, today or something, but I dunno. I had the place sparkling.
Everyone who came in said, "Nice place. It's a little blurry, though."
Damn. I just noticed the doily is scrunched. But I removed the doily before people got here, anyway. I tried to remove as much June Has Old Lady Taste stuff as I could.
After I murdered my own self straightening everything, I got some coffee and a book I stole from Ned and waited. Ned just bought this book, and I picked it up while I was at his house the other day, and I could tell almost immediately it was gonna have hot lesbian action in it. "This book seems like it's gonna be pretty dirty," I said to Ned. "Yeah, I know. That's why I picked it," he said.
"Well, how'd you know? Do you have dirty-dar?" It irks Ned when I add "dar" to things. He says gaydar is a fine word, as it's like a play on radar, but makeupdar makes no sense, for example. Since I have irkNeddar, I do it early and often as a result.
"Well, I...looked at the cover," said Ned, and right then I knew there were two naked girls on the cover. Dudes, I'd watched Ned buy that book, saw it on his coffee table for a week, picked it up and READ FIVE PAGES, and hadn't noticed there were naked girls on the cover. And I feel like right here I should defend Ned, who always reads really smart, esoteric books that I would hardly ever be interested in, and as dirty books go this is a smart one (Tipping the Velvet. I know you're poised, over there, on the Comment button), and my point is I don't want you to think he's a lecherous perv.
"Wow! I hadn't even NOTICED the naked girls on the cover," I told him. "This is why you're clearly heterosexual and I'm not."
"You're not? That's...unwelcome news, June."
Oh, he knew what I meant.
So I read the dirty lesbian book till the first couple came, this cute girl and her huge hulking fiance. She went on about how she loved the house and how much character it had, while he remained stonily silent. My bathroom is smaller than most of his poos, so I know he wasn't feeling it. They stayed five minutes. They have a Boxer mix.
Exactly an hour later a lovely single mom and her son came. He was, as I told you in the comments yesterday, somewhere between six and 15 years old. The two of them have been living in 750 square feet since he was three, which was three or 12 years ago. She also said he loved my house, and asked if I had gas or electric heat, to which I said, "?" She seemed fascinated that someone would not know this, but what do I care as long as heat emerges from the wall?
She also liked my color-coordinated books and asked if the shelves were staying. Answer: No. Ned has a lot of filthy books to shelve.
The kid really, really wants a dog, she told me, and he took to Edsel like he had dogdar or something. The two of them dashed through the back door and ran around the yard together, and in general Eds fears the reaper and also children, and I kept an eye on him for signs of panic, lest he rear up and gnaw this woman's child to bits. But in fact he had a goofy grin and ran around like a moron the entire time, and I offered to throw him in to the deal. "Don't let my son hear that. He'll beg me to take you up on it."
edz beleef the chilren be our future
Finally, at 4:00 a young cute woman knocked on the door with the most gorgeous German lesbian you've ever seen. I mean, she buried Martina Navaratolova, who I don't even think is German. Blogging mistake 8. Get people's country of origin wrong. They looked around, and they were really interesting and funny, and as they were leaving, the hot German said, "I read that book, It's pretty great." Then she kind of gave me a knowing nod. A "Wow, who knew June was an older lez?" nod.
Blogging Mistake Number 9. Saying "lez."
I loved them, and I hope they take the place, and Ned was very, very interested in the idea of having to come here and repair things for two hot young lesbians.
Speaking of Ned, he came over after golfing with his dad, and as we have done every single day since we first saw the house we want to rent, we drove past it. We'll be at dinner, or at Lowe's, or putting together a Great Wall of China jigsaw puzzle, and Ned will say, "Wanna drive past our house?" "Yes."
So last night we did, and it was dark out, and some man was walking past. He said something. Ned rolled down the window. "What did you say, sir?" Ned is from the South.
"I said it's haunted!" yelled the guy, who laughed and crossed the street.
"Oh, it's not haunted," I said to Ned, who looked pale.
"I'm not scared," said Ned, pale-ly driving.
"I'm just a little scared," he said a few minutes later.
"I DON'T HANDLE THESE THINGS WELL," he said, as if we'd already been faced with 17 Amityville Horror scenarios in that house. Seventeen Ways to Haunt the New Tenants.
So, yeah. That happened.
Boo,
June
