I've come up with a brilliant plan to blog at night and set my posts to publish in the morning, so I can meditate in the a.m. instead of writing to all of you. That way I will be all serene and so forth to face my day, rather than hurried because I wrote for too long.
I told this plan to Ned, who has all weekend been hilarious by trying to start a fight with me, because fighting is what we do best and we haven't done it in awhile, thanks to therapy or the fact that we're exhausted. Maybe we've run out of things to fight about. But Ned is digging deep to find new material for the fightin'.
Anyway, I told him about this new plan. "God, you DO need to meditate," he said, then grinned at the camera like he was Mr. Roper. His little plan to get me riled up is not working, however, not even earlier today when I was trying to explain something and he tried to be all outbursty. "GODDAMMIT! I UNDERSTOOD IT THE FIRST TIME, JUNE!" Then he grinned at the camera again.
"Wow, this is easier than I thought. A fight can just come out of nowhere," he said, delighted. Deep Thoughts, by Ned.
Sometimes Ned reminds me of my Uncle Jim. Did I ever tell you the story about when my Uncle Jim was really sick, and the home health aide or whomever she was came over? She was explaining something to my beleaguered Aunt Sue, and behind her my Uncle Jim kept mouthing, "HELP ME! SHE'S ABUUUUSING ME!"
The nurse, being a normal person, got distracted by this, and my poor saint of an aunt figured out what Uncle Jim was up to. "That's really funny, Jim. It's gonna be even more hilarious when they take you to some facility somewhere and don't let me see you anymore."
Oh, he got a kick out of his own self. It must be genetic, that trait.
So, in case you were worried sick about my weekend, I worked a lot of it, which is not fantastic but it wasn't bad, either. I mean, I got to write, and that's never boring for me. I don't know why it never occurred to me to try to do more writing at work, but now that I'm doing it I'm all, What the heck with the 18 years of proofreading? This is great! Thanks, Marvin, for insisting I be a proofreader instead of a writer.
You know, if it weren't for Marvin, I'd have just stayed a receptionist forever, but he made me apply for a proofreading job in 1997. And if it weren't for Marvin, I'd never have blogged and therefore never have written for Purple Clover, and never started writing at work, probably. Still, it's fun to blame Marvin.
Speaking of which, here's my latest Purple Clover, by the way. Mom, don't get mad. Hey, will you guys do me a solid? A turtle head? If you are so inclined, please can you share my Purple Clover articles on Facebook while I'm off of it? Thank you. I'll be back on FB at Easter and I can plug those my own self.
And knock it off with the "Oh, June, come look at FB for just a minute!" emails.
Anyway, so yesterday I worked a lot, and Nedded, and last night Ned and I went out to dinner, where I had me a French dip and some mashed potatoes. EDiets approves. That's only funny if you read Friday's post, and why didn't you, FuckAss? I totally just made a new swear. Everyone who leaves a comment today has to make a new swear.
Ned told me when he was a kid, his mom would take him and his brothers and sister to this place called Tex & Shirley's, which incidentally is still there and I love.it.hard. and Ned always balks at going because he has no taste. It's paneled, and the average age of the patrons in there is 92. The last time I dragged Ned there, the guy next to us was clearly a professional letter C. Oh, he was hunched. He had a hunch the applesauce was good at Tex and Shirley's, is what he did, and man did he scarf that down rapidly. That poor curved man was workin' the applesauce the entire time we were there.
Why was I telling you this? Oh! Because Ned said when he was a kid, he'd order up a French dip at Tex & Shirley's and thought he was mighty cosmopolitan with that order. He said his dad used to wind down at night with a big glass of Cold Duck, and Ned similarly thought that was the height of sophistication.
When I was in high school, I drank me some Reunite Lambrusco, and you should have SEEN the inside of my head, thinking I was sooooooo much loftier than the plebes I went to school with, drinking beer out of cans. I mean, have you seen me? I'm drinking wine that can also be served on ice. That's nice.
Here's Cold Duck Dong and his cosmopolitan dog on Sunday morning. We are having coffee and Girl Scout cookies, which is a favorite breakfast of the fashion elite. You see old Tallulah "Der Be Left Ober Frensh Dip?" Gardens approves of our continental breakfast.
It was finally nice out today, for the first time in what feel like nine years. This has been a most dreadful winter, and we all ran outside like we'd been in a dungeon for a century. I'm not really sure why, if you were in a dungeon for a century, your first move would be to run outside. I'd think your instinct would be to decompose. But maybe that's me.
As part of our Celebrate Being Out of a Dungeon festivities, we took the dogs for a walk down to the hippie grocery store, where Ned went in to get stuff and on the way back pretended he forgot everything I asked for, in order to start a fight, and you know what's funny? Is The FightStarter, over there. My point is, I waited outside the store with the dogs, and it wasn't seven seconds before some hippie with a baby came over.
"Can my gender-free offspring pet your dogs? Rainstick loves doggies."
Tallulah, who dearly loves to be called a doggie, stood calmly and let old Ember pet her, while as usual, Edsel ducked under a table and tried to think invisible thoughts.
"Can you pet the doggie nicely, Vishnu?" And to tell you the truth, (s)he really did. I just always worry Edsel's brain is going to snap and he'll go all face-eating baboon on some child, and that will be the end of my millions.
So that went without incident, and after we got home, we decided to see a movie. A movie Ned suggested.
The movie:
- Had subtitles
- Was black and white
- Involved everyone's favorite relaxing topic, the Holocaust
- Showed one suicide
- Included a baby skull
- And was sad in the end
Taa-daaa! A total Ned movie. Actually, I liked that movie, although the girl who starred in it had one acting technique, and that was to stare intensely at people. After a while, every time she did it, I'd do it to Ned. I could tell I was bugging him after awhile, which was my whole point.
Maybe we can fight about it later.
