You know how I enjoy the phrase "as you may or may not know," because it's so useful. But as you may or may not know, some years back, a reader created a Facebook page for fans of this blog. And really? You're a fan of this blog? You poor thing.
The page is called Pie on the Face, and the first person to come back and say, "I can't find Pie IN the Face, June," gets a personal visit from me. For 11 days, I will follow you and say, "As you may or may not know" over and over again.
While you're cooking: "As you may or may not know..."
While you're pooping: "As you may or may not know..."
Having sex with your husband: "As you may or may not know..."
Having sex with the person you're having an affair with: "As you may or may not know..."
Oooo, is anybody having an affair? Sign in anonymously and tell us the details. That's fascinating. I will not judge, I promise. The older I get, the more mysterious people are. Nothing surprises me anymore, especially people's sex things.
So, anyway, one faithful reader decided to go on Pie on the Face and have a picture day. I want to say the person who decided to have picture day was Amish Annie, but to tell y'all the truth, you'll contact me or speak on Facebook with your real name and not your blog-commenter name here, I have no fucking clue who you are.
Email from: Sandy Schwinkendorf: June, I wanted to write you about blah blah. Here are all my intimate details about blah. And blah blah, too! As you know, because I've written you before.
Reply from June Gardens: Who the fuck is this?
Reply from Sandy Schwinkendorf: It's Paula H&B. I've been reading you for eight years.
Oh my god anyway. So yesterday was the day that you were to show a picture from your day, and Amish Annie or Sandy Schwinkendorf had quite the turnout. I kept going to PieFace yesterday to see who else had submitted a photo, and there were more than 232. At least there were 232 comments last time I looked. Some of you just started TALKING among YOURSELVES on that thread, and I'd be all, STOP TALKING. I WANNA LOOK AT PICTURES.
Although I was riveted by the person who showed us she was going on a first date, and was gonna throw up from nerves, and then she reported back it was a dream date. That I wanted to hear more about. Anyway, go join Pie on the Face and take a gander at everyone's day yesterday, from around the world. Okay, I think one photo was from England and the rest was from here in America, but still. Around the world-ish.
In the meantime, I did everything I said I was going to do yesterday. I also bought a dog bed, and when I got home I realized it had a grammatical error. I'd never have purchased it had I noticed.
yuu expect edz to sleep on this travesteee?
Shake and LAY down. Goddammit. You want my hint for knowing when to use lay or lie? Place. PLAYce. Lay the silverware on the table. But lie down. You don't place down.
Lie lady lie, lie across my big brass bed.
If I lie here. If I just lie here. Would you lie with me and just forget the world.
Oh, lay your hands. Lay your hands on me. See, this one gets it right.
The thing is, you want to be over the Thompson Twins, then every time you hear a Thompson Twins song, you say, "GodDAMMIT, this is a good song."
We need to bring puffy-on-top hair back into vogue.
Okay, I gotta go shower. I hurt my back washing the dogs this weekend, or maybe I hurt it walking to work and back each day last week, then doing Tracy Chapman and by the way I've GAINED FIVE POUNDS, so fuck it. Point is, my back hurts, and Ned's hurts in the exact same spot. Don't you hate people who say "exact same"? It's like saying plan ahead.
Of course I photographed me walking to work. Can I HAVE a moment I do not record on film? Well. "Film."
Here's part of my walk. It's lovely, really. Today it's raining, so I'm not walking. I'm like a black woman, not wanting to get her hair wet. Oprah taught me that, that black women do not like to get their hair wet, and I have found that to be true. I still don't know why though. Will some black woman out there tell me?
I will talk at you later. Here's my latest Purple Clover, because Sadie can never find my articles on there. See, I've STAYED with Sadie, at her HOUSE, and yet if she sent me an email with her real name, I'd be all, Who the fuck is this? I only know y'all by your sign-in names.
Talk to you later.
XO,
Sandy Schwinkendorf
