June goes off the grid

I realize the best part of life is the thinner slice, and it don’t count for much.

What is wrong with me?

I realize I was supposed to write you Sunday for two–yes, TWO!!–special June weekend posts, but on Sunday I got into a weird cleaning frenzy and never did it.

The good news is, my floors are gleaming. The bad news is, you were bereft all Sunday. e3e88f11658862cb4435b9174d1b3e0eThen it was Sunday night, and your mom was spraying Hair So New on your wet hair while you watched Wonderful World of Disney

and ate a pot pie,

download.jpgknowing you had school the next day and the weekend was over, and NO JUNE POST.

What is wrong with me?

Anyway, we can still have a …banquet this morning, so dry your tears. And your hair! It’s So New!

Screen Shot 2018-03-22 at 8.10.11 AMThe reason I was going to write you Sunday is that my iPhotos had presented me with this weird grid the other day, a grid titled “People.” And indeed, it showed me people. Why these people, I don’t know.

But seeing as I’ve blogged at you for 11 years, give or take times I’ve allegedly FLOUNCED, it occurred to me that while I recognize all these folks, scarily, you might too. So I asked you: Who ARE these people?

And you answered. Often wrongly. So without further ado, because your ‘do is wet and it has Hair So New on it, let’s look at who’s on m’grid.

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First person on the grid? Ned. That’s back when I liked him, when he still lived in his apartment. That’s all I have to say about grid number one.

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That’s my stepfather, Harry, in the second place on said grid. He’s a saint. I remember that picture. My mother said, “Take a picture of Harry to put on Facebook, so his nieces can see him.” Then she photobombed.


Aunt Kathy. I couldn’t believe people didn’t know right away who this one was. I mean, how many times have I featured Aunt Kathy? And her Paul McCartney video?


Okay, up next?

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Aunt Kathy’s husband, Uncle Bill. He is very handy. Also, he never, like, relaxes. Like, he’ll fly to China, which he does a lot, then come home and replace the roof all weekend, then get on a plane to Germany.

I’ve no idea what he does. Maybe he’s an international handyman.

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Most of you knew my youthful coworker Ryan. What a buncha Mrs. Robinsons you all are.

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This is my coworker, fmr., Alex. Her name is actually Alex, so she got offended when I started calling everyone ELSE at work “Alex.” To be fair, there really used to be like 12 of them at once. Anyway, you know her from coming to my house to do yoga, and also being one of the youthful people I would drink with.

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Cantankerous coworker Griff. Of Thus Saith Griff fame. I like how someone was all, “Your coworker Gif or whoever.” Gif. Dying.

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One of the Alexes from work. She doesn’t work there anymore. She helped me make my brick house costume when I had that Dress as a Character From a Song party. She lives a mile away and we never see each other, despite several tepid, “Let’s get together” texts.

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Wedding Alex. Been on this blog approximately one frillion times. I took credit for every nuance of her wedding, from claiming I sewed her dress to building the church brick by brick. I forget why. Oh, right. I’m an asshole.

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The Other Copy Editor, fmr. We worked on the same team, but then she left to edit poetry for a living, a job I do not understand. How do you edit poetry? Anyway, she also owns the B&B where I drink, as they have Come Drink at Our B&B Wednesdays, she and her husband do.

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Aw. Another one of the Alexes. She left to take a very fancy job. She has a single dad my age who is hot hot hot, a thing I never let drop, and I wonder why I rarely hear from her. Hunh.

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This Alex was in my blog also 21 frillion times, when she worked with me. She’s gone, too. She and I got pedicures, we had dinner together, I forced her to go to the psychic with me. I mean, we did it all. I also talked her into going on OK Cupid after her breakup, and she met her boyfriend on there, and is still with him, so get ready for another June Takes the Credit Wedding coming to a blog near you.

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Dick Whitman. First person I dated once I was single. We dated for I think two terrible months, then we became friends, and then I got mad at him because when Ned and I broke up, he wasn’t what you’d call around. I felt bad. I felt abandoned. I felt all sorts of things. Anyway, when his mom, Dick Whitman’s Mom, died, we did have a nice chat about how great his mom was, so it’s not a terrible or anything, between us.

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Camilo, of the banana Camilos. Like, we just talked about him LAST POST, so don’t be giving me any, “Who’s that.”

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TinaDoris. We worked together; now she works with OKCupid Alex. I went to her wedding, I saged her haunty house, I blog-named her baby Borbala Rut. She’s having another baby, and I am the father.

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I just want you to know, whomever called Austin, “Jerome or whoever,” I have called him nothing but Jerome ever since. I went to his house this Christmas Eve, he has the really good wallpaper in the kitchen, with the measuring cups and so on. He’s my favorite person at work.

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Marty Martin. Friend in real life. Boyfriend of Kayeeeee. Marty is good people.

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See. I already said Austin was my favorite person at work, but The Poet is also my favorite person at work. She is the other white meat. The Poet is being flown to London for a week, to read her poems, as she is The Poet. I’d be such an asshole if I were as fabulous as she is. Look at what an asshole I am at THIS level.

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This is my coworker Molly. I go see her perform sometimes, as she swallows swords. No. She sings and plays guitar, and I like all of her songs. All of them.

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Yet another Alex who was actually named Alex. She works with OKCupid Alex and TinaDoris now, in some new place where I don’t actually understand what they do. Anyway, she’s British, this Alex is, and she used to live in TinyTown, which you don’t see every day.

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Faithful Reader LaUral. She wrote me and said, “I read your blog, and I’m not crazy but I can tell we work right near each other.” This was when I would do things like meet someone who read my blog. Now I’m wary. Too many creepy things have happened. But LaUral slipped in under the wire.

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My tenant, fmr. She became my tenant, then got a job where I work, worked there for a few years, and Friday was her last day. I’m, like, the Last Woman Standing. I feel like some wizened old veteran there, with my seven years going on.

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Aw. My boss, fmr. I miss him. I miss him more than I thought I would. He was always good for amusing conversation. And he and Griff would bicker like two old married people.

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Kayeeeeee. Marty Martin’s girlfriend. Let me move in with her for those six weeks after Ned and I broke up and my tenant, fmr., was moving out. Kayeeee. Not a fan of Tracy Anderson workout videos.

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And finally, none of you were right. This is Ned’s mom. I think I’ve only had her in my blog maybe five times in six years. So you’d have to be a careful, careful, possibly even obsessed reader to catch that one.

So there it is. My grid. And now I’m fairly exhausted.


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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.

43 thoughts on “June goes off the grid”

  1. And now I miss all of my former co-workers, especially the copyedit team. We really had something special on that account. We were all poor, but we had a lot of fun.


  2. Not cool. Posting an Air Supply video in the same blog post as “Here, There, and Everywhere.” Yuh, sure, it’s a terrible performance, and McCartney can’t sing anymore. But still. You had to have known there is always the possibility of contamination when you do something like that. Would you put a Jerry Bruckheimer movie on the same double bill as something by Truffaut? Would you put a Norman Rockwell painting next to Cezanne’s “Still Life with Apples”?


      1. “I really like Norman Rockwell.”

        So do all the art school kids these days. (Although there’s always the possibility that they’re just engaging in some kind of baffling ironic exercise.) What was once the most banal kitsch imaginable now has cultural currency. I’m getting too old to understand these things.


  3. That was fun. I guessed quite a few, proudly. I enjoyed being reminded of their backstories.

    Sundays used to make me SO sad as a child. It started after my parents split and I would go to my mother’s apartment on Friday and have to go back to my dad’s Sunday night. I’d be so miserable without my mom. That feeling lingered long after I was grown up and on my own. It only got better when I had children of my own.


  4. I looked at that grid and then how you were going to go through it and thought I would get bored. Nope. Maybe it’s me, but your friends are fascinating. And I knew nobody except Need and Dick Whitman.


  5. Oh, I enjoyed this so much. I remember all of the back stories! It is sort of like going through a photo album and talking about all of the events that are represented.

    Thanks for getting your grid on!

    Lovely post, lovely June!


  6. I could not remember Jerome’s name either. He just doesn’t look like an Austin. Well, he does look like a Jerome either, AA, but now it’s stuck.

    I never had rollers, my hair was just braided. That is until first grade, then my braids were cut off and I got a pixie and I looked like a boy.


  7. I had Dippity Do and foam rollers in my hair on Sunday night when I watched the Wonderful World of Disney. Which was preceded by Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom. On a really great Sunday we would have cheese and crackers for dinner. On the very best Sunday night, it would be summer, and I would smell like chlorine from being in the pool all day, nobody would be messing with my hair, and my dog and I would be sharing cheese and crackers while we sat on the floor and watched Disney.


    1. Misses B, your very best Sunday pretty much describes every summer Sunday of my childhood, Awesome!!


  8. When I meet my future ex-husband on OKCupid, I’m going to hire Molly to perform at my super cool wedding that you totally plan for me. LOVE HER!


  9. Forgot to say that you know some really interesting people. Back when I was working, as an accountant, I didn’t know anybody that was even mildly as interesting as you do. Maybe it’s because you work any creative field? The one thing that I always found so funny was that accountants are always thought of as being so dry and boring and you and I have never met a group of people who party as much as they do. Seriously all the accounts I knew drank like there’s no tomorrow. One year at our Christmas party the paramedics came because a few people passed out from being so drunk. And then the paramedics ended up on stage dancing with the band. Best party ever ever ever ever. Somehow I lost my shoes that night. That was the last year that liquor was free, but I digress. Great post!


    1. To me, it makes perfect sense that accountants would drink a lot. I mean, they’re accountants. The occupation basically screams alcoholic.


      1. One of my insurance agents years ago mentioned a lot of underwriters are alcoholics. Truth or not, I thought it was interesting.


  10. Well I feel like a loser. Been reading for like 10 years and I only recognized Ned, Aunt Kathy, Dick Whitman, TinaDoris and The Poet. Once you described who the rest of them were I immediately recognized them. Also too, I totally forgot that Dick Whitman’s mom died. I remember hearing stories about her. Also too again? Why don’t you go work with Ok Cupid Alex et al?


        1. Sorry, June’s boss! Just an innocent question.


  11. Those pot pies rocked! They were best eaten with two slices of wholesome nutritious white Wonder bread slathered with that whole dairy, extra nutrient margarine out of a tub. You put that stuff in front of me today and I’d eat it all in a New York minute, all of it, I’d scarf it down with a big glass of skim milk.


    1. My mother refused to buy Wonder bread. Or Spam. I have never tasted those delicacies, even as an adult.


  12. Ned’s mother fooled me. Once I looked up your friend from TinyTown, I knew it wasn’t her, but totally forgot about Ned’s mother.

    The grid was a good exercise in memory. It makes it easier that all your female friends are named Alex other than The Poet, Kayeeeee, Molly and TinaDoris. I think we’ll all do better on the pet-grid.


  13. You blog named Naughty Professor Not Wes originally. I thought he looked more like a handsome, smart shy professor but the gleam in his eye told me just a bit differently and I said he looked like a NAUGHTY professor. And then I just wouldn’t let it go, as I do.

    [clearing throat] I was the one who called Jerome Jerome. I could not remember names that morning and I knew his name had two syllables and I really thought it was Jerome or close to that. AND he looks like a Jerome. Or at least a naughty Jerome. OH OKAY, I’LL STOP! I do think Jerome is naughty but only in wholesome ways, office pranks and such. Also Jerome has the cute family that recreated having a bored board game time or something like that in an effort to lift your spirits one day which I thought was sweet and hilarious.

    Lovely post, Joob. I got kind of scared at the title but I get it now.

    Liked by 1 person

  14. In my DEFENSE, had I not been sitting in my car, reading the non blog, as I’m wont to do, and having to go back and forth between the comment page and the photo page I would have done BETTER.

    Upon further reflection, I wonder what all of your friends think/feel about being recongnized by this group of hooligans.
    If I’m ever in your area (or Michigan) and see any of these people I will probably shout out their blog name like a Baba Booey.


  15. As you get older it might be a good thing that most of your friends are named Alex, you have less chance of not being able to recall their name.


  16. I wore the brush rollers for special occasions to make “kielbasi curls”, as the pollacks called them back then. Those curlers were torture, no sleep. I got a pixie, eventually, because I was such a whiny little wuss about knots, etc. It was a huge relief. My very skinny cousin (an older male cousin we crushed on dubbed us beachball and toothpick), had a girdle to hold up stockings. I don’t recall my fat ass wearing one until I was in a wedding at twenty.

    Nice grid, June. I would have failed miserably. I struggle to remember names IRL. That girl with the hot dad is a stunner. He must be VERY hot. Ned looks a bit like his mom. I didn’t think that was Peggy.

    You need to include Elton John’s veedio for, I’m Still Standing for your work status someday. I was the next to last when I left my eighteen year retail job.


  17. Well, I was wrong on three. I knew the last photo was NOT Peg, but I just didn’t recognize Ned’s mom. I’m slipping. Since half the grid was Alex that was pretty easy.

    I always hated Sunday night knowing school/work started the next day, but I loved the Wonderful World of Disney.


  18. Two things:
    1. I tried Camilo’s weird banana trick on my own personal banana, and it totally worked!
    2. I LOVED The Wonderful World of Disney and would watch it every week. I would absolutely watch it if it were still on tv today.
    Lovely post, June!
    PS – am now giggling like a fool over “my own personal banana”. I’m hilarious!


    1. I couldn’t play the grid game because I have been way to busy playing with my bananas. It is oddly cathartic.


  19. I do not wish to brag, but I recognized all but two of these – I did not know co-worker with the hot dad nor did I remember that first guy. Alright, just kidding. He seemed vaguely familiar. But names of all the youngsters? Never. I couldn’t tell you an Alex from an Alex.

    You just described every Sunday night of my childhood, by the way. Except I was getting Dippity-Doo and brush rollers in my hair. Who makes a 9 year old sleep in brush rollers? I’ll tell you who. The same woman who buys a girdle (“it’s a FOUNDATION UNDERGARMENT”) for a 10 year old. Is it any wonder I ditched my bra at 17?

    Lovely post about your lovely people lovely June!


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