In the blog post stands a boxer

I guess after writing about my brush with appendicitis last time, it’s kind of dramatic that I didn’t write yesterday. Like, maybe it CAME BACK!

It did not. Here was why I did not write you:

The alarm went off at 5:45 and I got up, pulled on some flattering things, and headed to my trainer’s, or as I like to call it now, Otis’s house. I am in love with her dog so bad I am. He doesn’t even bark when I walk in. He just lopes over peanut-butter-cuply.

dis fat azz heer again?

Anyway, at 6:15 in the morning, I boxed. I mean, we did other horrendous things too, like step up on crap while also hurling weights in the air, and pushups, and situps, and similar things that make you want to kill yourself. But then we boxed. She got out this punching bag, and by that I don’t mean everyone I was ever involved with romantically. She said, “I have pink gloves or I have black gloves. Which would you…?”

“Really?” I asked.

“Well, not everyone’s into pink,” she said, handing me the CUTEST PINK GLOVES OH MY GOD.

Here’s the thing. It was tiring as hell but I love boxing. I LOVE IT. Now I want to be Layla Ali. Not my hair dryer. The person. I can be LieAround Ali. I even looked up local boxing classes. Oh my god boxing is my new thing.

Just recently it occurred to me that I should find a new thing to like. I mean, kittens and dick can’t be my WHOLE life.

I wish my mother would just send me a selfie of her pursed lips, seeing as that is my whole goal in saying things like that, to achieve the pursed lips of mom. Maybe if I had a permanent record of that look I could stop saying things like kittens ‘n’ dick.

The pursed lips of smug June, having worked out by 7:00. We will not mention the donuts eaten by 8:00.

Back when I was married to punching bag du jour, we talked about getting a boxer dog and just naming it The.

Anyway, then I had to go to work, as I am wont to do. I had new work popping up in my inbox every 14 seconds, LOTTIE BLANCO, and it reminded me of a story about my high school best friend, Donna. Or rather her mother.

My high school best friend Donna was like me except…well, she was exactly like me. We’re still friends, but she grew up and has an important job and a spouse and happy children in college. But in high school, there was no evidence either of us were headed for greatness, as we were both ridiculous people with June hair.

Anyway, Donna’s mother was an Extremely Sensible type. She was also older than most moms, as Donna was what you might call a surprise. All her siblings were way older and out of the house, and her parents had been in WWII and so on.

I loved being at their house.

Anyway, her sensible, stable, no-nonsense mom was canning tomatoes in the basement while she was pregnant for Donna. She must have been in her late 30s or early 40s and pregnant. Donna’s dad kept bringing down case after case of tomatoes, and she’d commence to canning.

Finally, after hour 97 or whatever of bringing down a case of tomatoes, Donna’s very sensible mom turned around and threw a tomato at her husband’s head.

The end.

If you knew Donna’s mom that story would kill you.

Once, in high school, Donna and I put on all of her mom’s old lady clothes with the knee highs and babushkas and so on and went to visit her mom at work, thinking we were THE FUNNIEST PEOPLE ON EARTH, and her mom acted like nothing was amiss. Oh, here’s my 16-year-old daughter in a housedress and knee-highs. Hello, dear.

Somehow I’ve gotten off topic and I know you are stunned.

So, work was worky, and then also in the middle of working, I had my annual review, as opposed to my perennial review in which I receive pansies. Anyway, I knew it was going to be an okay review but it’s still nerve-wracking to get Siskal and Eberted at work.

Then after work I had another in my current series of internet dates from the internet.


First I ordered this pink-like-my-boxing-gloves drink and it was the Sourest Drink on Earth, and I am getting this huge aversion to anything sour or bitter other than my personality. So then I ordered Prosecco, and I’m certain my poor date must have been, “Well, there’s another $8,” but what can you do. The point is, my Prosecco matched my nails.

Before the date, I was so tired. I mean, I was drained. I didn’t know how I was going to sparkle with All This on a date, so drained was I. It occurred to me to acquire one of those sleeping masks that have eyes on them, so I could sleep but look like I was listening.


But then I thought maybe tired me is more likable me. Maybe it’s less The June Show, starring June.

I had a cat, Mr. Horkheimer, who was friendlier when he didn’t feel well. Oh, he’d cuddle and he’d want you to pick him up. He was the best. “I like him when he’s sick,” Marvin once said, and I just made it sound like ordinarily Marvin did not like Hork, which was not at all true. There’s no way anyone could dislike Mr. Horkheimer unless one is an “I don’t like cats” asshole.

The only time I ever saw Marvin cry was when we had to put that cat to sleep.

I have to go. I must get ready for work, as I am wont to do, and finish the 6,000 things Lottie Blanco sent me. “Don’t forget about my party this weekend,” she said to me yesterday, as she brought me the case of tomatoes called work.


My whole day is that now. People saying, don’t forget and me saying, What the hell are you talking about. I saw my neighbor R at lunchtime yesterday, taking a walk around my hood as I was driving home to eat. “Did you remember to pick up my stool?” she asked. R does massages for us at work, on Fridays. It’s how I met her.


You’ll be pleased to know I did remember it when I returned to work, but forgot to tell her it’s in my car. So now I’m driving around with a stool, Junior Sample.

Anyway. That’s all I have to tell you. Talk to you in June.

June in June,

Published by


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 “In the blog post stands a boxer”

  1. Otis is adorable! *Pats him on head & brings treats*

    My Dad was like Donna’s Mom (without the canning). Nothing I ever did as a kid/teenager as really got any type of reaction (unless I didn’t do my chores). Mostly because I don’t think he paid attention to what I was doing/wearing. It took him 6-8 months to notice that I got my ears double pierced & he saw me every day, multiple times per day.

    I add every appointment/thing I need to do to my phone calendar & set multiple alerts. If it’s something that I am required to do extra stuff for (like a potluck), then I add an electronic reminder (with multiple alerts) too. This has to happen immediately when I commit to doing something/make an appointment, otherwise I don’t remember!


  2. I go to I Love kickboxing. It is a chain, maybe there is one near you! I have rose gold gloves !


  3. Wait. Didn’t Marvin like everyone better when they were sick? Especially you.


  4. I love that the reason you shared the photo of your drink was because it matched your nail polish. Good call!

    Lovely post, lovely June!


  5. Boxing is so awesome, and so hard. If you love it? It’s the best thing ever. Such a good workout, and you’re learning defense while you’re at it.

    I took boxing training a few years back and I loved it – I felt like a total bad-ass learning all the punches and defenses, how to block and dodge. Working the heavy bag was my favorite. I only lost interest when they finally made me spar with another student in class and five seconds in she nailed me in the nose so hard that it hurt for a week.

    Boxing and I drifted apart after that…

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Happy Friday everyone. June, you are glowing in your “just done boxed” photo.
    P.s. At first I read the dog’s comment as “iz u here for a beer?” Then I went back a read it correctly.


  7. By the time I read this and all the great comments I sometimes forget what I want to comment about. But today I love the Siskel and Ebert line. Also my real last name is also a word that can be used to describe crazy people or even a verb. Now there’s a riddle for you. Anyway, my brother wanted us to name our first born ‘the’.


  8. The only boxing I’ve ever done is Wii boxing and it kicked my butt. I can only imagine the workout from real boxing. There’s a place by me called “” Yes, it’s an actual brick-and-mortar location so the name just kills me. I’ve been contemplating signing up for a class.

    The other day I got a package from my medical insurance and was all, “Ooh, I get a package.” Yeah, it’s time for my annual stool sample collection and I thought, “Boy, I’d hate to be the person whose job is to look at people’s shit all day under a microscope.” I hope the pay isn’t crap.

    Liked by 2 people

  9. Pansies aren’t perennials up here, though sometimes they’ll re-seed.
    Are they perennials down there? Serious question. Your climate, etc.
    Your perennials are often our frozen-in-fall annuals.
    I think I’ve just answered my own question.


  10. Picture me over here reading this like I am Jessica Tandy in Fried Green Tomatoes with the purple hair and saying to Kathy Bates “how many of them hormones you taking, honey?”

    That’s how I felt this whole post. Excellent job there, lovely old Coot!


  11. Lovely post, Coot. I love Boxers, the dog not the fighter. We had one called Briggs that saved me from a 5-foot long rattlesnake when I was 28 months old. I loved that dog with all my being. Have had them all through my life. Now my granddog is a Boxer named Duke who just happens to be the most adorable dog ever, well next to my Bozley.
    Also and too, how do you have the energy to go on dates after all your June-ing? I am impressed. Says the old lady in her pajamas at 7 pm.

    Liked by 1 person

  12. I’m imagining you in your full boxing regalia. A vision in pink sparkles. Just think of it!


  13. Whenever I see Mr. Horkheimer’s name in a post, I’m certain you’re going to talk about me. My eyes aren’t what they used to be.


  14. It occurred to me to acquire one of those sleeping masks that have eyes on them, so I could sleep but look like I was listening.

    Brilliant idea other than his wondering why you never blinked.


  15. Thank you for the cackling with m’coffee post. Every one is gold but this one is platinum.
    Otis! What a mug.
    Way back in the 80s my best friend and I dated two guys who were also best friends. Her guy had been a boxer and was still involved with the local club. They took us there one night, Jimmie gloves us up, teaches us a few moves and next thing we know we’re sparring in the ring. Much hilarity ensued.
    I still have a photo of us dancing around.
    Wish I still had those legs.
    At Halloween he dressed her up in full gear as Kid Herpes. Good times.

    Liked by 1 person

  16. I love this post so bad. Your trainer’s dog is adorable. Tx you (& her) for photo. That sweet brindle (brindle?) face!

    Growing up, my friend had a Cindy Crawford workout video with boxing and kick boxing (sorta). We weighed like 42lbs but would still do the video. Honestly think it was for the fun of pretending to hit stuff.

    “Okay okay let’s take it from here” *wham*


  17. It’s possible today is going to be my saddest day ever (work wise) and this post made me more light hearted.

    Thanks for always being awesome to read. Usually funny, sometimes sad, but always one of the highlights of my day.


    1. This internet stranger really really hopes today is not sad for you. (*If it is, have you read June’s brilliant fireman post? Def one to read if you need something to make you laugh.)


  18. OMG. I love this post. In a non-internet-stalker-creepy-at-all kind of way, I would love to be sitting in the booth next to you at a bar some night, listening to the roar of the train going by in your head. The tracks!

    Happy Friday! Don’t forget the party!


  19. I think Donna’s mom was so over you two. Love the trainer’s dog.
    I love the posts when you get side tracked, that’s how my brain works…too.


    1. My brain does that too. It seems to be a family trait. Holidays with our clan were hard on outsiders, with multiple convaluted conversations all going on at once.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Yes! My family too. I will never forget the first time my future Son-in-law came for a meal. There were five people around the table and at least four different conversations going at a time. Poor guy looked bewildered. But he was game and learned (almost) how to keep up.


        1. We do family Sunday Funday and it’s usually a free for all. My newest son in law is very calm and quiet. I was sitting next to him one Sunday and after a particularly robust discussion on 10 various topics, he whispered to me, “How do you all know what you are talking about?”

          Liked by 2 people

          1. This made me laugh out loud, your newest son-in-law’s comment.
            We have friends that we would go out to eat with and three of us would have a roundabout conversation going at all times. When our friends would get in the car he would ask his wife, “what did y’all talk about?” He was a retired captain (pilot) for a major airlines and he couldn’t keep up with our conversations. It was hilarious.

            Liked by 1 person

  20. You’ve inspired me. I have “learn to box” on some forgotten list. I think it would help me with my moments of anger. One of my new job perks is being able to work at home. That would be today. It’s gonna be a great day!


  21. I’m not going to tell you what I thought you were talking about when you said pick up my stool because I am not twelve.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. While she was in high school, my sister worked for a medical clinic and had the delightful job of preparing stool slides. She then proceeded to talk about all of them at home, but not at the dinner table because my father didn’t want to hear her descriptions while eating.

        You would have loved it.


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