Mercury is in retrograde, did you know? That means--and I know this because I lived in LA for 10 years, so I'm an expert in all things weird--that communication gets slowed down or misunderstood or convoluted, somehow. So hree d dkehere odoseene fisl, 0e.
See what I did, there?
The POINT is, yesterday I sat here like an idiot, as opposed to the other times that I sit here like a genius, and wrote you a whole blog post with hilarity and big reveals and the most important news of our day, and then boom. It was gone. Just gone. And then my internet died.
So I drove to work and tried to post from there? The whole post didn't exist anymore. And I'd saved a draft, but it was completely gone.
It wasn't that good of a post anyway, but still. Stupid Mercury. Rolling around on my floor, all silvery and elusive.
It'll be here through the 22nd. The retrograde thing will. So be on guard. En garde. I'm poking you with my drink sword.
Do you do that in your family, or is it just mine? You get some kind of elaborate drink, such as a Shirley Temple, and it has a sword with all your fruit on it, there, girly drink, and you take the fruit off and have sword fights with others at the table? Is that just me?
The other day, I was at this great sandwich restaurant I love. It's like the restaurant that time forgot. It was invented in the late '70s, and they've updated nothing. Their sign is big fat rounded letters carved from individual pieces of wood. They have paintings of ballerinas on the wall. It's paneled. Oh dear god I love it there.
Plus also, they have any kind of soda imaginable, and my entire point is as I was leaving the other day I noted they had Shirley Temple–flavor soda. Ever since I saw that, I have been dying to try it. It comes in glass bottles. Maybe I have a hashtag goal this weekend now. It's a limited-edition flavor. Fancy.
This was the important picture I was trying to plunk in for you yesterday when all hell broke loose with stupid Mercury. I was trying to tell you that my new lawn guy is DA BOMB and he's cleaned up all the weeds and weed trees and so on in my yard, leaving Edsel few places to poop. Part of what I've learned from my Edsel support groups on Facebook is that other Carolina Dogs are weird about pooping, too. Edsel has never pooped on a walk. He goes off into a bush and does it there. You can see his choices are now limited. And now I'm thinking, "I wonder if I can get a fake bush?" This is why I never have any money. I'm forever Sisyphus-ing things.
What I need to do is hire some shirtless man to put up my zoo sign. He can poop behind that. Edsel, not the shirtless handyman.
Tonight is First Friday in Greensboro, although really it's the first Friday of the month for everyone, not just us, and first of all we're having goodbye drinks with someone at work who's leaving. It feels like everyone is leaving. We just hired two new people named Alex, though, and I am not even kidding you.
Anyway, after that are the regular downtown festivities, including my friend Kit celebrating 15 years of her vintage store, so she's having special things like she's gonna greet everyone topless with just her vintage pasties and so on. I should have suggested this idea to her weeks ago, so she could be on the lookout for pasties.
Also, at a different store, for some reason they are having naked painted women, and you know Ima stampede to that. Maybe shop for my fake bush there.
So a big evening, is what I'm saying. I'm preparing for a time. A big time.
My mother just texted me with, "OMG, GOP. WTF?" She is so delighted.
And finally, Lottie's parents have been sending me photos and videos that I can't upload here for some reason (Mercury), and I love seeing her little black-mouthed self. Oh, Lottie. I miss that devil dog so. I can still see a spot on her little snout where fang of Eds visited. Lottie and I should have just gotten in the car and driven off. Left Edsel in the dust to pay for this house on his own. See how he liked that.
I probably would have returned to find Edsel the CEO of some organization, and a second level added to my house.
I hope everyone takes full advantage of this last weekend to wear white pants. I want you to go around like the Good Humor man all weekend. For me, it just isn't Labor Day without Jerry Lewis.
Retrogradely,
June
