The laughs make up for the marsupial pouch

Do you know what I hate? The don’t-be-so-hard-on-yourself-when-you’re-trying-to-insult-yourself guy. And by “guy” I mean anyone.

Look, or even looky here, as my eighth-grade algebra teacher used to say (and there’s a job. Hey, this year you’re gonna teach June algebra! Good luck and here’s your methadone prescription), none of us are 100% happy with ourselves, and most of us have ways of dealing with it the best we can. Some of us, and I’m not naming names, may have a little, you know, hilarious routine we do where we complain about our flaws. Some of us might feel a lot better about ourselves after we’ve, just to throw a scenario out there, done a whole bit on our marsupial pouch abdomen and get a laugh. For some of us, the laughs make up for the marsupial pouch.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” stupid esteem-builder earnest person says. “Everyone is beautiful.”

Oh my god earnest people like this need to be drawn and quartered. I mean, earnestness is a trait that’s dreadful enough, and then you get the Aggressively-Earnest-cockblock-your-hilarity person, who really isn’t even in it to remind you to adore your own self, but really is there to say, See how incredibly evolved I am? I’m so evolved I plan to dampen your whole hilarious shtick.

I also kind of hate the word shtick.

Oooo, you know what else I hate?

“Okay, I’ll bite.”

Oh, fuck off. “Okay, I’ll bite” implies you were trying to manipulate someone with an intriguing sentence or something and they’re saying yeah, okay, I’ll allow you to entice me with your manipulative vaguebooking or whatever. I’d say 90% of the time anyone tells me they’ll “bite” I was over there just trying to amuse myself and not WISHING to be bitten.

So how was your weekend? If you checked in with me this weekend, and I also hate the phrase “checked in,” (because it’s also manipulative. “Just checking in!” No, you’re not.) you saw my riveting Wordless Weekend, wherein I tried to make a weekend of doing freelance work look interesting.

Hey, June, how’s your new 60-hour, no-end-in-sight freelance-on-top-of-regular-work going? Is it making you at all cranky? Well, I don’t know, I was just asking. Just checking in.

Long phrases with hyphens in them are big with me today.

Anyway I did a lot of freelance, and turned in the first draft of something, and meet with someone after work tomorrow to interview her for another freelance thing I’m doing, and it would be exciting that I’m making all this extra scratch to pay off my credit card debt but listen to this.


The old Devil in Edsel Jones, up there, who looks so friendly and approachable unless you’re in a puppy suit, has taken up hating another puppy. This time it’s the puppy in the kitty-corner yard, which, let’s discuss this. These people have two dogs: a schnauzer and a white shaggy puppy, and what’s with the proliferation of small white shaggy dogs anymore? You can’t swing a Mastiff’s dick without hitting a small white shaggy dog. I like mostly all dogs, but I just don’t have that same draw to a smaller dog. I am sorry.

Oh, except for this one:


Squee squee squee, squee squee squee squee squeeeeeeee! Somebody brought their puppy in on Friday. Maintained dignity, as you can imagine.

Hey, you’re dignified! Everyone’s dignified! You should love yourself!

You know who shouldn’t love him or herself? The person who announces that we should all love ourselves.

Anyway, back to my yard. Back to the future of June’s yard. So these people have a schnauzer and a white shaggy puppy, and here’s what bugs me. The PUPPY is named Tramp.

Do you know what kind of dog Tramp was?

A schnauzer

So, they take their SCHNAUZER and name him whatever, then they take their next, non-schnauzer dog and name it Tramp. It just. I can’t just. I [takes long pull off the bong].

Anyway, Edsel hates Tramp. Hey, maybe I’m hearing it wrong and the dog is named Trump and Edsel is a staunch liberal. If that’s the case, he’s not teaching tolerance, because every day he goes to the fence and they bark at each other with equal vehemence, Eds and Tramp do. And I could never be sure if it was, you know, play or Edsel hated that dog, but all signs point to hate.

Yesterday I was freelancing as I am wont to do, hence my sparkling mood, and I heard the exuberant barking, which I imagine is like the kind of play you hear late at night if you’re a parent hosting a sleepover, that kind of play that sounds like everyone’s tired and maybe it’s getting a trifle edgy and soon there will be tears and spilled Hi-C.

Do parents still serve Hi-C? Because why not? Has Hi-C left us due to the helicopter parenting? Look. Looky here. Hi-C is delicious and tastes of red and I grew up on it and look how I turned out. Pay no attention to the kangaroo pouch in front of me. You should love yourself, June.

Oh my god anyway. So I heard the barking getting started, and I was all Goddammit, because you’d think one gay nervous dog and three cats would be a breeze, but it turns out you’re getting up attending to them more often than you’d think. So I was all Goddammit I’ll just finish this sentence and then I’ll get up and get Edsel, and that is when I heard

Ar! Ar! At! Ar!

that high-pitched dog-injured noise that let’s face it, dogs make a lot when they’re kind of faking. I mean, Tallulah never made that noise, ever, but Edsel does all the time and it’s when he’s, like, stubbed a dog toe or something. He’s always been absolutely fine in the end. Tallulah got hit by a CAR and didn’t ar ar ar. She just ran off to the woods for three relaxing days and slumped home. Kept her dognity.

She was probably in the depths of the woods complaining how her hip hurt and some earnest deer was probably all, Your hips are great. You should love yourself, Lu, and that is when she limped home.

So I burst through the back door, which sounds dirty but isn’t, and ran to the kitty-corner and let’s face it, all my corners are kitty corners. And there was poor puppy shaggy Tramp who OKAY, is CUTE, holding up one teensy shaggy paw.

“EDSEL GO INSIDE” I gritted, and he hung his evil angry gay head and went right in. “Are you okay, muffin?”

At that point the Mom of Tramp–which is what my own mother’s bumper sticker read when I was in high school–came back there, and since neither of us saw what went down, we have no idea if Edsel, for example, bit poor Tramp’s paw through the fence or if she (he? Who the fuck knows. Tramp probably doesn’t know. let see. tramp haff dik, but it size of kipper. also tramp so fluffee!) caught it on something or whatever the hell.

There was no blood and after a minute of hanging his/her/its paw pathetically, old trans Tramp bounced off without incident. I told the woman to let me know if she needed to go to the vet or anything, but


I need a real fence. I mean, I really do. This fence back here, this so-called fence, is a hodgepodge of flimsy wire and old chain link and really I’m lucky nothing more nefarious has happened before this. A real fence would keep in Lily and Iris.

A real woman could stop you from drinking. It’d have to be a real big woman.

I have no illusions that a real fence would keep in Steely Dan. I put up a big fence and he gets the Mission:Impossible theme song in his gray head.

not to fuk wif steelee dan

Anyway, that’s my latest, and I’m delighted to have to spend money on another thing, which means this charming freelance schedule will not end soon.

I gotta go, as it’s 8:20 and I’m not dressed yet. I’m in my gray robe from Target. Are you turned on?

Oh, and speaking of how I turn the world on with my robe, could you take this nothing day and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile? It occurs to me that I do nothing to promote this blo–website, other than link to it on Facebook and hooo care. Everyone I’m FB friends with already knows I have a blebsite.

Could you copy and paste my stupid blog into your social media and be all, OH MY GOD THIS WOMAN IS BETTER THAN ORAL. Can you do that for me? Can ya?

Thanks. If you don’t have social media, can you just run through the street screaming BOOK OF JUNE! BOOK




In his grip,








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At one point, I was sort of hot, in a "she's 27 and probably a 7" kind of a way. Now I'm old and have to develop a charming personality. Guess how that's going.

47 thoughts on “The laughs make up for the marsupial pouch”

  1. And why? why? do we all have to be beautiful? (you’re beautiful on the inside / in your own way/ etc.) What if we’re not? Certainly we’re not always. Notice that this “You’re beautiful somewhere/somehow/where it matters” is usually directed at women? Why don’t we forget about making the way we look SO important? I know we care because we like pretty things, but jeebus.
    Speaking of beautiful, or its opposite, there was a good interview on Tapestry this past weekend.
    I just went to the webpage to see the guy’s face, as he describes himself as ugly. The way he talked, I expected him to look like a fish. But no! The guy IS hard on himself. But anyway.
    Toss some of that freelance work my way, June. I’ve been out of work since September.


  2. I think some little dogs are so high-pitched yappy too. Although I love love love the next door neighbor’s Pom. She is all cuteness, happiness, jumpy and fluffy, rolled up into a little ball. Even her little “Grrrrrr” when you play with her, just kills you. Coworker’s little fluffy pup in the picture above is too cute to stand! I love the little round earses.

    And you are right, we usually have a gaggle of 11 and 12-year-olds (this year) at my house for a sleep-over birthday party for my great-niece. Around 1 am, after several hours of Doritos and Mountain Dew, they reach a high-pitched level that makes your ears ring for days. Yikes! And then somebody’s feelings get hurt and some poor parent has to drive to the house at 1 am because Miranda/Devon/Sarah/Jocelyn is pouting in the corner and wants to go home.


    1. P.S. The 12-year-olds at my house are into the sugar free Kool-Aid because it comes in any flavor you can think of.


  3. First of all, everyone is not beautiful. Let’s be real.
    Congratulations on your freelance (freefence!) work. I had a chain link fence for many years, and it drove me crazy. A wood fence is good for your property value. and your pets! and your nude sunbathing!
    Funny post, June!


    1. I keep looking at those vinyl fences. Beautiful, and you can get them in any color. I wonder how well they hold up. I’m sold on the never having to paint feature.


  4. Tang with breakfast, Hawaiian Punch with lunch, Tab with dinner. Those were the days, my friend.
    Is the Schnauzer named Lady? If so, those people have to move.
    Aside from the puppy rage, does Eds seem happier?


  5. I self-deprecate all the time. When an earnest person interjects with blah blah beautiful don’t be so hard on yourself, my head wants to pop off my shoulders. Instead, I have found the best way to respond is to cut them off immediately and say, “Dude, I have the highest self esteem of anyone you know.” I find the reactions are always the same, shocked and then offended. They WANT you to have issues. That or they’re terrible at reading people. That truly is one of my pet peeves. If I want reassurance on something, I will ask for it. Until that time, join me in having a good laugh about whatever topic we’re talking about.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Like Nora Ephron, I feel bad about my neck. (But, Sadie, everyone has a neck.) When I start wearing turtlenecks even in summer, you’ll know why.


  6. We had Hi C, in a can. Seems like there were two flavors, orange and…and? I don’t recall the other flavor, maybe it was grape. For some reason my mom would never buy Cool-Aid, because it called for too much sugar, but she would buy the Hi C and Cokes, but we were only allowed to drink one Coke a day and it was the little small bottles of Coke. This was Coco-Cola, not soda, it was the real Coke, because we grew up in Atlanta and Coke was the beverage of choice, well, other than sweet iced tea.


  7. Gretchen is right, if the fence will be shared, so should the cost. Also put the railing in your yard. That way the outside of your yard will look nice and no little kids or nosey neighbors can use the runners to climb on to see what’s going on in your yard but you can in theirs.


    1. Hmmm… not so sure I agree with that. Who’s fence is it? It’s either on one side or the other of the property line. Our neighbor decided he didn’t want his fence anymore, so he let us know because of our dogs. We bought the fence from him (the portion that bordered our side yard) and hired a guy to move it 8 inches to our side of the property line. It was his fence. Now it’s our fence.


      1. I just thought it might be worth asking the neighbor if they would split the cost. Never know until you ask! But yes, it’s on one property or the other, not really shared.


      2. Lisa, that is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. Like your neighbor really missed that 8 inches of yard. I get that someone has to own it but everywhere I’ve ever lived the cost was always split or the neighbor was just hated. But I would pay the price to keep my dogs safe.


  8. Co-worker’s puppee! It’s a Pom, isn’t it. Late sainted Eppie had a dark mask like that as a baby, but outgrew it, just had a “mustache over her nose” (TM Mr. MTM). Thanks heavens I have two now, or I’d be weeping and sighing and kidnapping that one.

    This morning Minka and NeverTiti sort of met the tiny dog next door through the (also inadequate) fence. He had been covered with small white curls, but with his new short short summer hairdo, leaping up and down shouting that he was here first, he looked more like a hooked fish.

    HiC. It was in a can, and you had to use the pointy end of a bottle opener, and after a couple of days it tasted tinny. But kids today are deprived of all those hilarious Hawaiian Punch ads, poor things.


  9. I’m trying to respond to some specific points (like Mother of Tramp bumper sticker which was hilarious) but my head is spinning like a cartoon character’s head.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. I love shaggy little white dogs. I love big shaggy whatever dogs, too. Thus, Oliver, my labradoodle. Yesterday morning at Walmart (I know!) I saw two puppies, one a bulldog, the other I can never remember the name of. It looks like a German shepherd and has two names. I think one starts with a B and one with an M. Both were about four months old. I even got a bulldog kiss! When I see a dog in public, I can’t keep away. I know a lot of the owners want to kick my butt and tell me to leave them the eff alone.


    1. Yes, Belgian Malinois. I have a six month old grand dog Malinois. She is a a little spitfire, handful ball of energy, that one is!


    2. Oooh, I have to pet every dog I see as well. There’s some (bitchy) woman who walked her in-training service dog by my work fmr almost every day at lunchtime. I asked her once out of politeness, whether I could pet the service dog, since she was, you know, servicing. The mean woman didn’t even stop – said “No.” all bitchy-like and just kept walking by me. Well, that made me want to pet the dog even more! Geez, give the dog a minute off the chain gang to be loved by somebody, you heartless bitch! After that, I had to walk the other way, because I knew that I would be spite-petting that dog every time I got near her. I know those dogs have to be trained and that’s a serious and wonderful thing, but I don’t think they should have to be denied a little love from people. Why can’t they just be a happy puppy once in awhile?


      1. They do get time off. I have a friend who is visually impaired and he has a guide dog. When his dog is in harness, she’s working. But when the harness comes off, she’s like any other dog and can play and romp. The dogs have to learn that when they’re in harness they can’t be distracted by anything; their entire focus is to keep their person safe.


  11. June shot her white shooting ring into the pile of readers and we carrommed off every wall. I’m breathless.


  12. (Use whiny tone here) But Juuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuune, if we post about you on our social media, then we will have to SHARE you. And, even worse, share you with friends and/or family and/or people we know in real life. Which means Some Of Us would have to censor themselves. So do I post about you on social media or do I continue to say things like “Nester likes anal” in your comments? Your choice.

    Liked by 1 person

  13. Fantastic post! Laughing like hell. I am going to call my stomach a marsupial pouch now too. I have always despised beer gut, particularly because I hate beer.


  14. Upon seeing 10ft solid wood wall fence:
    SD: “Challenge accepted” Hmm…what first?
    I don’t have FB but do my best to extoll your blog-virtues.

    Lovely post, pretty June.


  15. I spent my weekend walking on a blister with a thread through it to keep it draining. Probably 100% unsanitary, especially given my lack of shower opportunities, but it totally worked.

    Then I scandalized and titillated small town Pennsylvania by walking around in spandex shorts and a flimsy tank top. My hiking clothes look very respectable but are too disgusting to wear until I get them to a laundromat.

    Liked by 1 person

  16. And everything is beautiful in it’s own way
    Like a starry summer night
    Or a snow covered winter’s day,
    Everybody’s beautiful in their own way
    Under God’s Heaven
    The world’s gonna find a way,
    Yes that is what I heard in my head when I read you blog/website/journal.
    As the owner of a fluffy little white dog let me tell you they seem to be everywhere. Here there and everywhere is where they are. Mastiff’s dick! Haha. You said Mt-stiff dick. (snickering like Beavis and Butthead)
    Years ago I had a black lab, everyone had black labs. Mystiff dicks swung and many were hit. Now Gracie was a runner and she would bolt when you opened the door. One day she got out and I went looking for her. Sure enough I found her 10 – 15 blocks from my house. I forced her into the truck. What I mean is a literally had to push and pull this dog who was resisting like a prisoner going to the electric chair into the cab of my truck. I drive home and guess who is sitting on my front porch. GRACIE. Yes I had kidnapped, dognapped, someone else’s black lab.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Good to know I’m not the only one who read that as my stiff dick in my warped mind. Life is a lot more fun with a dirty mind.


  17. I will absolutely announce to my social media followers that you are better than oral. I don’t know if they’ll listen to me, but I’ll sure as hell try.


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