How long do you allow between coats of paint? I'm painting my windowsill today, and please to enjoy my fine photo of the windowsill. It's like you're right here with me. If you had glaucoma.
I just finished it at about 5 to 4:00, but I want to do a second coat. So I write you while I wait.
I just looked it up. It'll be dry to the touch in an hour, and I should wait four hours for a second coat.
FOUR HOURS!?!? What Ima do for FOUR HOURS?
Maybe I'll blog for four fours. How'd you like that? When would you give up on me, do you think? It's June's four-hour blog extravaganza! Yay! Says no one.
I guess one thing I can do is show you all the photos on my desktop, tell you what you're looking at. Yay! Says no one.
On THANKSgiving, as they say it here, I went to Ned's mom's house. She lives locally now, and her little house is as cute as a button, and she's decorated it all nice, and it gets tons of light and then I went home and everything looked shabby at my house. Hence the paint. I spent all yesterday binging Gilmore Girls and taping and scraping and sanding. Oh Sanding baby! Someday! When high-yiy school is done.
You never want to be in my head.
Anyway, behold Ned and his mom, above. I love that picture. Ned had three plates of food, and dessert, and then all night I had to hear how he didn't feel up to snuff. Which I knew was gonna happen when he gleefully went back for that third helping of everything. But what can you do? It's probably how he feels when we pass the Baby Animal Emporium.
God, don't we look happy. Thank god we got back together. You can't buy this kind of contentment. Or blur. Really, everything is going scary well, which is not like us, because we live on coffee and fights but we decided to try a different route. Not the coffee part. You'll be prying that from my cold GERD-ridden gullet. That made zero sense. Anyway, let's see what other happy photos I have.
Ned's mom had a few Xmas decorations up, and she offered to play Christmas music after dinner, and Ned said, "Yeah, okay, let me just get a screwdriver so I can drive it into my eardrums." Ned. Huge fan of Christmas. 'UGE.
Thanksgiving night, we went to his house and played some Monopoly. I own the millennial Monopoly, so the money is vellum and they have new pieces, like airplanes and cell phones and all those super-modern things from the aughts. I was the Lab. Ned was the bike.
You learn a lot about a person from playing Monopoly. Namely, that Ned is a Park-Place-&-Boardwalk-buying, hotel-purchasing, pay-rent-in-singles-to-be-a-dick ass tong. He'll also not tell you if he's landed on your property and you're, say, checking Facebook.
What a dick ass. Oh my god. He is ruthless. He bought ALL FOUR railroads, then railroaded me on the rent. When I landed on goddamn Boardwalk where he had a goddamn flea-ridden hotel that Lindsay Lohan wouldn't even stay at, I lost, and perhaps had a poor attitude about it.
What an ass tong.
yuu a bitz, ant joon.
eet yer hed off, ant joon.
Yesterday, after I'd binged and watched and scraped and so on, I took a shower and headed to this bar in my old neighborhood, where Ned and I enjoyed Karaoke night and made fun of young people. Incidentally, you should never try to Karaoke a Queen song. You just shouldn't.
I don't know why this picture's on here, but I love it so bad. "Oh, that's a food face," said Ned. "Lu didn't get that look unless there was food. She saved her most earnest expressions for that."
I miss that dog more every day.
The only other thing I did this weekend besides waiting for paint to dry is I asked Ned these questions from a meme going around. I don't know the point of this meme other than you get to talk about yourself even more, and what's more appealing to me than that?
The meme is a series of Qs you ask your person about yourself, with the idea that the answers will be rib-ticklingly hilarious, and my experience was it was not that hilarious and more filled with the word "fuck." Here we are, below. These are the questions I asked Ned about myself.
Q: What is one thing I say a lot?
Ned: "I stabbed it with my steely knife but I just couldn't kill the beast."
Q: What makes me happy?
Ned: Fucking. Also, fucking. And sex. And coffee.
Q: What is something that makes me sad?
Ned: When we don't have sex.
Q: What's my favorite thing to do?
Ned: Fucking. (Honestly, it's like he just learned the word.)
Q: How tall am I?
Ned: 5'6". Do they ask how much you weigh? Because you seem to keep that a great mystery.
Q: What do I like to do when you're not around?
Ned: Look at Facebook, blog, work.
Q: What makes you proud of me?
Ned: Your writing. I really like your writing.
Q: What's my favorite food?
Ned: Fucking. And mashed potatoes.
Q: What's my favorite restaurant?
Ned: Filling Station. Which is weird because they don't even have mashed potatoes.
Q: If I could go anywhere, where would I go?
Ned: Seattle. Paris. To LA to see your friends.
Q: Could you live without me?
Ned: Not very happily.
Q: How do I annoy you?
Ned: You don't.
Q: If I called you to say I was in trouble, who would I most likely be with?
Ned: Me.
So there it is. My blog about me, reporting on questions I asked someone about me. I should change my name to Mimi.
This is the last photo on my desktop, and I took this the other night before I left for Ned's to play Monopoly/discover the depths of Ned's dicklihood. Oh my god, no one ever give him property. Please never let him turn into a real estate mogul. He turns into a fuck dick.
I've written for 45 minutes, and I guess maybe I'll eat something now and wait for the paint to dry some more. Hasn't this been, like, longest weekend ever? It's fantastic.
I'll write later, with fascinating updates on the state of my windowsill. Sash over soon!
Panefully,
June
