“How do you like your eggs?”


Get it? Do you? I got a million of ’em. You know what I haven’t got a million of? Ovaries.

In case you just got here, or maybe you forgot because I tried not to mention it often, on Tuesday, CU Next Tuesday, I had an operation. Sometimes the doctor hit the metal sides and my nose lit up.

What I had done was a bisexual Oooo child with lapsang souchong. I believe that was the official name of what I had done.

Another thing I tried not to mention often was I had to be there at 5:30 a.m. What bullshit is that?

I woke up two minutes before my alarm of the reasonable hour of 4:45, or as I like to call it, four fucking forty fucking five fucking a fucking m. Really one of the worst parts of the ordeal was waking my dog to go out and then eat. Never in my life have I had to wake this dog. On weekends when there’s no alarm, if I am awake but haven’t opened my eyes yet, he knows I’m awake and I can hear him flump flump flumping his tail down on his bed.

she wake! she WAKE! it new day! it new day wif hair!

I have no idea how I got hooked up with someone so positive, but there it is.

At four fucking forty fucking five fucking a fucking m, my dog was fast asleep. I stood over his bed where he was softly whiffling.

“Edsel,” I said softly. With my sonnnnng.

“Whiffle,” breathed Eds.

“Whiffle,” he repeated.

I had to actually shake a haunch to wake him. “Eds, it’s time to get up.”

You’ve never seen someone snap into character more quickly. He could be a fireman.

“O! It…okay! Hello! It new—just let Eds get glasses on heer—IT NEW DAY! YES!”

When I left the house, I noted even the neighbor’s rooster was quiet. EVEN THE ROOSTER was in a head kerchief with the blankets pulled up.

Four fucking forty fucking five fucking a fucking m. Come on.

The good news is, my anesthesiologist was cute. He was a young bearded ginger. Oh, you shoulda seen me trying to turn on the charm. In my blue gown with yellow and red geometric patterns and yellow grippy socks with grips on either side in case I wanted to walk on the fronts of my feet.

“I can’t begin to tell you how much I do not wish to throw up,” I Mrs. Robinsoned him. I posed one be-grip-socked leg at him flirtatiously. “Let me get you a nausea patch,” he said, leaving to get a patch and a dinner reservation plus hotel suite for us.

I got the patch, but my Q is, why can’t I always wear a nausea patch? I won’t have to recoil when someone says they’re nauseated. I can feel okay during a migraine. I can look at any doo-dad marked, “Live, laugh, love.”

Eventually my doctor came in, and other than calling my cyst a “mass,” she was actually delightful and funny all day. She started explaining what I was having done and I told her I was an expert in the procedure as I had googled it. “Oh, good, then you can do it,” she suggested.

“Keep me awake and I’ll guide you,” I told her.

They wheeled me into that huge cold room with machines and a scary table. “This is cozy,” I said, and my doctor was all, “We designed it to look like home.”

Anyway then the thing happened where you’re, like, dead out and then I woke up. I was surrounded by nurses and my doctor, telling me we had to do real surgery and not laparoscopic surgery. “Where’s the anesthesiologist?” I asked. “He was so cute.” I know the compression things on my legs would have cinched the deal.

They’d told me before that if I had to have an incision I’d probably have to stay over, but that day they told me my doctor would be back after 5:00 and I might could go home if I passed certain tests, such as trig and the Presidential Fitness test.

I don’t remember a lot about the day except I was riveted by this shift that got to work at 5:30. I kept asking everyone about it. One of my nurses had RUN A FEW MILES before work. Dudes. EVEN THE ROOSTER WASN’T UP, yet she had run a few miles.

They gave me a giant menu and encouraged me to eat but you’ll be stunned to hear I had no appetite. I asked for black coffee, because who woudn’t, and I sipped a little tomato soup, because I wanted GERD on top of everything else.

They told me to get up, to see if walking was okay.

Guess what. OUCH, oh my god.

“I’m Sharon Tate, over here!” I bellowed as I minced out of my room. My nurse, who was between 16 and 35 years old, probably did not get the joke, and my tasteful jokes are wasted on the wrong people.

I don’t think we made it to the next room when the nurse said, “You don’t have to be a hero. We can quit any time.”

That was all I needed to hear. “I won’t be a hero. I won’t be a fool with my life,” I said, turning my pole around, got to feel percussion.

Have you ever noticed the proliferation of 1970s songs having circus-y music? It’s awful. Although maybe that song was just sort of soldier music. I am just now realizing maybe he was a hero going off to war. I thought he’d joined the circus.

Hunh. Right then, I knew.

Anyway, I barely remember the whole day other than that walk of stab. They encouraged me to eat dinner as well, and although I was still not hungry, I ordered pot roast. A few minutes later they brought me fish, broccoli and rice.


I ate it, though, and it was really good, and some health nut out there got pot roast.

Finally my doctor came back to the surgical center. She’d gone to work after removing my oofs.

“Hey, why are you sleeping?” she asked. “You act like you had surgery today or something.”

She told me I could go home, but warned me to lie about listlessly like any other day in my life, and also “Nothing in the vagina.”

“Great. So where do you suggest I keep my Ping-Pong balls?”

And see. Right then I regretted the “nothing in vagina” portion of events, because I wanted to make sweet love to self and gaze at me after, singing a few bars of After the Lovin’ by America’s treasure Englebert Humperdink.

As the nurse wheeled me out, she said, “The doctor and I were just out there talking about how cool you are,” she said. “It’s been fun having you.”

That’s why I left them my ovaries to remember me by.


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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.

66 thoughts on “Novaries”

  1. I’m with the others…Novaries had me in stitches (pun intended). Your post was hilarious, as were all of the other comments. Glad you are feeling well enough to inflect your funny humor, per usual. Sleep as much as you can, and heal well.

    Oh, and enjoy your momma while you have her there. Cheers!


  2. This made me laugh out loud like a lunatic several times! I am so glad you are okay. I love you, June. Always will – since we were 3. If your math is faulty? That’s almost 52 years! Yikes. We are old. But CUUTE!! Xoxoxo

    P.S. Got a new job today. Am super excited. Xo


  3. Thank God you aren’t married to Marvin any longer. This surgery would have been the biggest aphrodisiac ever. No more “making his move” will keep you glued together.

    Does Pam know how to cook your favorites? Hope she is spoiling you in between furniture arrangements.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. This was hilarious. So glad you are recovering and with an intact sense of humor… or is that drugs helping?


  5. My cousin just had this comment on his facebook about cysts. stop using “cyst”as replacement for “sis”, I don’t think you would like to have a sac-like pocket of membranous tissue that contains fluid, air, or other substance for a sister. He’s from the Philippines.


  6. The rest of us can laugh for you, Goddess of Hilarity. Write from your bed of pain, between episodes of Andy Griffith, to keep us going.


  7. Terrific news ! Glad all went well and you are home. My advice, since you are always asking for it….prune juice. You are welcome.


  8. I doubt this is what you have meant all these years that you have been asking if somebody wants a piece of this.

    I’m relieved you’re home and headed into the recovery stage of this ongoing saga. Maybe they can leave you the fuc* alone now.

    Hilarious post, June


    1. Dammit, with the posting before I was done Faceplant or whatever site you blog from! Enjoy the couch surfing, I am not anonymous ever, except on the sex question days!!!!


  9. Thank goodness you didn’t think of the sad ballad The Night Chicago Died also by the superstars of Paper Lace. So glad you are doing pretty well. The ping pong balls can stand by for a little while.


  10. That’s it Paula! We need “nothing in the vagina” t-shirts! Glad you are on the mend June. I can resume my normal life now.


    1. Some of us more than others…severe vaginal atrophy. No entrance ever again probably. Good thing I like to suck. Sucked my thumb FOREVER.


  11. Even at your worst, you’re the funniest person on Earth. Also? Last night I dreamed you gifted your faithful readers a white leather bound Big Book of June complete with 3d pictures. Oh my god but it was fantastic. Thank you


  12. Where will I keep my ping pong balls?? I laughed out loud at this whole post, but that line really got me! I hope you are able to get rest today.
    Great post June.


  13. This post was hilarious! I’m so glad you came through your surgery well and I hope the recovery will be easy like Sunday mornin’!


  14. What is it with the scar tissue? When I had my hysterectomy I had to have an extra hole due to the scar tissue from my C Section. At least they were still able to do it without an incision for me. Happy Healing!


  15. You did so well to go home the same day after all of that or protocols have changed. I am sure they appreciated your humor enormously. When they have crotchety, bitchy, patients they will roll their eyes behind said witches and remember funny Joon fondly. Hope you continue to heal and Edz, stay off of your mistress! Down boi.


  16. Yeay for ovaries & out! I once had to see a doc about by bits, and we had such a nice time that he put in the results letter to my doc what a delight I’d been to meet, and how funny I was. I was GUTTED he didn’t do my subsequent snatch surgery, as I totally thought I could have wooed him with my wit after that great first date. Hope Eds is enjoying Grandma being in town.


  17. Just watch the video. Have known the song forever, but I have never seen the group. One question, why didn’t they give that drummer a tooth before this performance? Shit, they could have just stick a piece of white corn in there!


    1. One question?! I have many. Why so much smoke? Are they hiding their feet for lack of shoes? (In keeping with the missing tooth.) What kind of “band” has such a tiny drum kit and four guitars? And the drummer is the lead singer? The whistling is pretty impressive though. At least this British band is wearing period costumes that go with the song. In the American version of this song by Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods they were wearing Elvis costumes. Maybe that’s where June got the circus idea.

      Liked by 1 person

  18. Novaries kilt me!

    So glad your doctor finally acted human and turned into a commedienne. And glad you’re feeling good except for the pain. I hope Edsel isn’t worried sick about you.


  19. Put a pillow over your stomach when you are forced to laugh (thank you Paula)! I can see why you are their favorite patient. I’m so relieved, they didn’t remove your funny, gurl even while recovering you are hilarious. When I played that YouTube song an ad for a 55+ community popped up, it’s scary. I’m so glad you are feeling well enough to post and I hope you are resting and napping. Did they put those warmed blankets over you before surgery? You might want to insist your caregiver do the same while you are recovering.


  20. Personally, I like throw myself at the hot staff after I wake up alive. I’ve done it every time I’ve had a put-to-sleep surgery. I guess I’m thrilled to be awake again and all my inhibitions have gone out the window. You had the wherewithal to flirt so your lack of ovary won’t dampen you there. Good on you.


  21. Got to feel percussion, where oh where to put your ping pong balls, I just love your writing! Hilarious post, glad everything went well.


  22. Novaries.
    Only you could write a heelarious post op post.
    I’m in stitches ovar here.
    Glad everything went well.


  23. “So where do you suggest I keep my Ping-Pong balls?” Killed me dead, right there. Also, so weird that your doc comes alive at surgery time, but at least she properly appreciated All That is The Glory of You finally.

    Also, too, you and Paula having surgery at the same time and recovering together is something I’d buy a ticket to see. I’d even bring in an anesthesiologist of your choice as a prize. Fingers crossed for much napping and lounging today. Stay away from the cucumbers.


  24. Glad you’re back. Maybe Mother can make you pot roast while you are in recovery.

    Yeah, the laughing is going to bite for a while. I had my gallbladder out my senior year of high school, back in the prehistoric days before laparoscopy, so quite the scar. It sucks to have laugh-hurt.


  25. Oh my god. You are my favorite kind of people – funny in the face of death. “I’m Sharon Tate over here” would amuse anyone… except the Tates I suppose. The first song that popped into my head was “I’ll Be a Hero” but yours was better. Good old Billy, headed off to the circus. Why would you think the circus needed heroes, June?

    Your story about waking Edsel made me think of my little dog fmr. She had one eye and was mainly blind in the other, plus her hearing was mostly gone. You had to be careful not to sneak up on her or she’s have a heart attack. Poor little thing had about a dozen of those a day. No wonder she’s currently dead.

    Take it easy woman. You’ve earned the napping time!


  26. I am positive you are their favorite patient! “Nothing in the vagina” Hahahaha!
    I hope you get your nap today. There is nothing better than lying about being waited on.

    Lovely post, lovely June!


  27. Wow! You went through a lot. Must have been a big cyst. I’m glad you’re on the mend.

    I’m laughing about old Eds getting his glasses before going out. My dog is the same way, she KNOWS when I’m awake even if I try to be still. She makes a little yip and the tail starts.


  28. I wish I had remembered to be funny and charming at my hysterectomy! I was more terrified deer in headlights.

    Reading this was a delight – just like you are when you have major surgery. Hope you are healing swiftly and feeling well!


  29. Thanks for posting today as I thought of you all day yesterday and am happy to hear your surgery went well. You and your doctor could form a comedy team to entertain at hospitals. I’m sure the nurse and doctor wished all their patients had your sense of humor as you made their day. Just think if you and Paula had surgery at the same time. You’d have them in stitches.


  30. May the pain meds do their job, and may the lovely animals refrain from jumping on your sore bits. I’m glad you were able to entertain the doctor/nurses. I’m sure the bearded ginger will be calling soon. He probably has to wait a day or two for professional reasons, but who could resist all THAT? He can’t help picturing you in bed now, so be careful when he calls as he may be only out for one thing.


    1. I’m thinking he’ll call after nothing in vagina time. He’s biding his vagina time. Also I failed to mention how Eds threw an arm over my stomach and now he’s at the pound.


      1. It’s like they know. You know how cats get a million times more heavy when they climb on you? Mine used to stand on my chest at bed time, right after my breast cancer surgery. While writhing in pain as I shoved him over to the other side of the bed, I had to wonder how an 8 lb. cat could put 200lbs of pressure through one of his adorable little paws of death. He did the offended shoulder lick when I asked.


      2. I had a navel hernia surgery over the summer and learned really quick to keep a pillow across me at all times or one of my four cats would land on me like a bomb. Or walk across me, with each paw step feeling like steak knives stabbing into me. I’m so glad that you are home June😻


  31. You should come to my house. It seems to me that HH makes pot roast every freaking Sunday. Who is he, June Cleaver? Where’s his pearls? I don’t even LIKE pot roast. GOD.

    “Nothing in the vagina.” If I face another pot roast this weekend, I’ll be wearing that on a tshirt.

    Glad you are feeling well enough to write. Your tens of readers missed you.

    Liked by 2 people

      1. Hurts to laugh.This too shall pass, along with the gas and all. Glad you’re all tootie and fruity and fun.


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