Two old boyfriends contacted me yesterday. Clearly, no one can resist me. I mean, they can, for several years in a row. But then they cannot.
"I was bored, so I Googled you and found your Purple Clover articles. Read a few. Now I wish I had a Bar-B-Que t-shirt," my old boyfriend from Seattle wrote me, the one with all the tattoos. I guess "Seattle" and "all the tattoos" are sort of what you'd call a given. I can't even remember which article mentions my Bar-B-Que t-shirt, but said t-shirt featured a grill with Barbie dolls on it. It was a fine figure of a t-shirt.
The other boyfriend was my high school swain Cardinal, who had a strange pain under his ribs and knew I'd have several horrifying theories about what it could be. At the end, we started discussing where in our home town I'd have him buried. Once in high school, we skipped third hour to go make out at the cemetery, and we came across the grave of Arthur Hill, THE MAN THEY NAMED MY SCHOOL AFTER. So then we felt shamed. Of course, it didn't stop us from making out. We had perseverance. That ant moved a rubber tree plant.
I am so grounded when my mother reads this.
From now on, Ima refer to Cardinal as my "swain." It sounds like a swan who can't poop, to me. But I can take anything and make it a hilarious poop joke. It's where I get my strength, like Tara.
Oh, and the other person I heard from--and by the way, June's blog. Stay for the fascinating "who I heard from yesterday" stories. But I heard from my Aunt Mary, who as of the end of today will be Officially Retired®. When I was born, my Aunt Mary was working at the zoo in my home town, the same zoo of my infamous zoo sign. She has worked for as long as I've known her, even during college. And she's always been one of those people who saves her money.
So, today is her very last day at her job, where she worked for THIRTY YEARS, y'all. Thirty years. They had a party for her yesterday, and she got gifts from people all day, and it's taking three people to do her job now that she's gone. The best part? I got to say,
"You should be Proud, Mary."
Highlight of life. Waited almost 50 years to deliver that line to aunt.
Speaking of proud, last night Ned and I were in his office at home. I like how my room in here is "the spare room" but his gets to be "the office."
He got home late all the nights this week, and had to be at work by 7:30 yesterday morning. Today he's already gone, too, and it's 7:43. I would not want to have such a real job as Ned does. My point is, I'd gone to Tai Chi with one of the Alexes after work, and he'd ridden his bike, so we were finally all, "Oh hey, you exist. How was your day?" But then I saw this.
I sound like click bait. What you see next will INFURIATE you! You won't BELIEVE what happens next! I cried when I saw what happens next! When you see this, your pancreas will blow clean off.
Maybe I sold it too hard. Cat railroad! "Is your phone up here?" I whisper-screamed dramatically to Ned. Imagine living with a person whose every activity involves some kind of whisper-scream delivered dramatically. Do you know what irks me? Is when you see people talking at work, and you hear NO SOUND coming out of them. You KNOW they're gossiping. Inappropriate. They should IM, like the Guy Who Sits Next To Me and I do.
"No," said Ned, who'd worked 59 hours that day and probably wished I'd just shut up and put out. Which, Dear Ned. I so would have, had there not been cat photojournalism and then my old boyfriend called.
My old boyfriends should write a book together, called Cockblocked By Cats. And Exes.
So, I had to mince dramatically over said railroad cats, pounce dramatically on my own phone in the "spare bedroom," mince over them all again like I was miming sneaking over a mine field, and take this shot. Four iotas later, Iris left the scene and stopped being cute, which is what ALL CATS DO when you want to photograph them being cute. o, you wish to catchur on film? Cat leaff now. important cat bizness in next room. next room where it necessary to hold back leg up like chicken and lik.
I also took this picture the other night when we were on a walk. If it's ever late or hot or I don't have time or whatever I at least try to walk the dogs down the greenway to the church. The church is where I turn around, bright eyes. And I don't even know why I took this, but Edsel being possessed by demons when he's too near the house of God is the hilariousest thing ever. You won't BELIEVE what happens next.
Let's make a pact, a Bye Bye, Pie pact. A Pie Pact. That we will all of us, from now on, NEVER click on any story that tries to do that to us. Let's start a movement to eliminate being manipulated that way. We can do this. If one look at Lady Diana's un-hosed legs made us all stop buying baked-bean-colored hose from those plastic eggs at the grocery store, one small blog can stop idiots from click bating us.
I also never, ever read on if a story makes me click the arrow for more.
You know, none of this is why I gathered you here today. I was GONNA talk about books from our pubescence, including all the sex books I got in my youth to make me informed and not scared and a person who'd grow up to be cockblocked by cats.
But I will talk about those books later, including this one, above, which featured telling me about sex with cut-out pieces of paper. That is one sexy paper hairdo she's sporting. I do kind of like their paper quilt. And, I mean, he is paper buff! Look at him! Old Casual Paper Hair scored when she got THAT guy into her bed of pulp.
See what's going to happen? I'm going to start talking about those books, and then Ima be late for work. To top it off, I'm late for work. Lemme tell you what I say when I'm dealing with the funky sidewalk.
Okay, I'm GOING TO GO before I quote all of Double Dutch Bus, but I was GOING to tell you one more thing about Beelzebub Edsel, up there. Last night, Ned did something that annoyed me, god knows what, and I said, "Edsel, sic him! Attack!" You never say "sic" unless you're fake trying to get your dog to attack someone.
Edsel wagged his tail because I was talking to him.
"Eds! Get him! Attack Uncle Ned!" I showed my teeth so Edsel would be inspired. He wagged his tail even harder because I was still talking to him.
"Edsel!" I said, exasperated, and then I took my fangs and headed to Ned, acting like I was going to bite him.
WOOF! said Edsel, running over. I'm telling you, he was gonna defend Ned to the death if he had to. That fucker. He is so on Ned's side now.