Yesterday evening, after a very busy day that I'm sorry to inform you Ima tell you about, I headed to the grocery store to get cat food, because the cupboard was literally bare in the cat food department. I really have to look into that deliver-pet-food-regularly thing you guys keep telling me is out there on the world wide web. What is it, again? Is it on the Amazon? Because it feels like I'm at the store getting food or litter eleven times a week.
Anyway, while I was there, I got some of this really good chicken salad they sell from this deli in Wilmington, and it's the best goddamn chicken salad you have ever had in your life. I usually don't splurge on it, but goddammit, it sounded delicious.
I got home and dumped the cat food in the bin, put the chicken salad in the refridge, and commenced to doing some freelance work. All I could think of was that chicken salad. "Oh, go have a little," Rotten June said to me, who clearly has a much larger influence over me than Practical June.
"It's too late to be eating anything like chicken salad," Practical June said, her voice hoarse from lack of use.
So I didn't have any, and in the middle of the night I woke with a migraine, which makes sense given my very busy day that I am sorry to inform you Ima tell you about. I stumbled out of bed, got water from the refridge, took a pill and stumbled back to bed.
I woke up with no migraine, but when I got to the kitchen?
I hadn't shut the refridge door all the way. How hard are you gonna slap me for continuing to say "refridge"?
Everything was warm. I can't eat the chicken salad.
GOD
DAMMIT.
Practical June can go fuck herself.
Do you remember during my year abroad when I killed myself to make pumpkin chili and then we forgot to put it in the
refridge
and I had to throw it all away? I hate shit like that.
Anyway, m'weekend. [Everyone pulls chair closer with rapt attention. Or not.]
Faithful Reader Stacey sent me this photo she found of someone who is clearly related to me. First of all, we look alike, if I weren't currently 87, and second of all she has June Hair and eighth, she totally overdid it with the flowers and sparkly choker and so on, and that right there seals the deal. Distant relative.
"Oh, I know! I'll pair my ruffly Prince shirt with my very involved jacket with an entire bouquet of flowers thrown jauntily over my shoulder and pop some in m'hair as well and don't forget the sparkly choker!"
She would so like Hello Kitty.
Anyway. That happened, and I also got into the show Z on Amazon, which isn't that good but I am riveted by Zelda Fitzgerald so I just want to see what happens next. I've read books on her, so I sort of, you know, know, but I want to watch it on film.
Christina Ricci is totally miscast as Zelda, and then noticed Christina Ricci is the producer and right then I knew. Once I was getting a pedicure in my neighborhood and she and I were the only people in the place. I had to act like I hadn't noticed Christina Ricci and I were the only people in there who weren't employees, read my Glamor all casual like and so on.
The very next day, I was at the grocery store in my neighborhood probably buying fucking cat food, and there she was, in produce.
"Hi," we said to each other, half-heartedly. We both knew. She was probably texting her friends. "June Gardens is totally here at Paint Nail!"
I can't remember what my local pedicure place was called. Any friends who still read me in LA, help a sister out. It was on Rowena and Hyperion, right next to that store that had clothes and jewelry and incense and so on, which I also can't remember the name of.
NAIL STATION! I just Googled it. It looks like the store next door is gone and that Nail Station has taken over. You go, Nail Station may I hep you. That's always how they answered the phone. "Nail station may I hep you."
Their English is better than my Vietnamese, so maybe I could shut up now.
Oh my god I'm not even on Sunday yet.
So Sunday dawned and it was beautiful out. Sunny, breezy, in the 70s. It was like the perfect day, and my daffodils are just about to bloom. I had plans to see my friend Jo, but she took ill. "I hate feeling awful on a beautiful day," she said. I pointed out to her that there will be other pretty days, unless she dies from her illness, in which case she is shit out of luck.
You know what sounds good? Is some chicken salad.
Anyway, I lounged outside with my cats while I drank my 25% caffeinated coffee (that's going better than I thought it would, by the way).
Then I did my horrific high-intensity interval training that my horrific co-worker Austin horrifically told me I should do to lose weight, and if it weren't working I'd stop doing it but it is so I soldier on. After that I did Tracy Anderson arms, and then I showered and decided I should really get out of the house on such a nice day, so Edsel and I headed to a trail.
There are about a million parks and trails in this town, resulting in every middle-aged yahoo on dating sites wanting to find a woman who loves the outdoors and hiking and sweating and doing color runs and so on, and what I need to do is move to Ohio and find some nice man who enjoys sitting around and dive bars.
Everyone AND THEIR DOG was out on that trail, and you know how relaxing Edsel is when he sees another dog, so that was fun. We were about 40 minutes in when it occurred to me this trail was not a loop.
Son of a...
So we turned around, bright eyes, and my point is, after my horrific interval training and Tracy Anderson-ing and my 900-minute walk, I was what you might call hungry. Edsel was looking like a delicious duck dinner back there.
I dropped his punk ass off, and I'm totally picturing him letting himself in with his key and waving goodbye while I back out of the driveway. I went to the new park and got a chicken pita with hummus and a lemonade at the little Middle-Eastern stand that they will probably ban any minute. PITA BREAD IS A THREAT TO OUR NATION.
I offer you the world's least-flattering photo of myself wherein it looks like I'm elegantly mustached. It also looks here like absolutely no one else was at the park, like the whole thing was deserted and I'm Eleanor Rigby, but in fact it was crawling with people.
What I discovered, and this is important, is that that park is EXCELLENT for dog-watching. There's a little dog park there, and yesterday I saw two yellow dachshunds--and who knew they came in that color?--a brindled Whippet, a huge hound of some sort with long long earses, and?
And??
A baby German shepherd.
OH MY GOD, that baby German shepherd! HE WAS SO TOOOT! I LOVED HIM SO BAD!!! With his big floppy earses.
Hang on, I gotta take a moment to glare at Edsel.
Then I went to see La La Land, which I wasn't even that interested in but I like to see all the nominated movies before the Oscars, otherwise I get bored at the Oscars. I act like I'm going there with Cary Grant or something.
Man, was I all in after that. I was too tired to even watch another episode of Z after I did my freelance and debated chicken salad with myself. Some guy at work told me when he's getting over someone he keeps himself so busy that by the time he gets home all he can do is crawl into bed. So.
Hey, I wish I'd talk more. Ima go. Someone tell me about that get-food-delivered site. kthanxbye.
Currently,
June
P.S. (Mother of GOD, June.) I forgot to show you photos of Lily grooming Iris.
Wut?
