Me? Critical?

Are your loins girded? And no, Kathy Loves Pink, I do not know how one does that.

Here’s the big announcement.

Dcrmom and I have started our own PRODUCT REVIEW SITE!

Woooo! Woo!

Apparently, and I say "apparently" because dcr mom is the organized one and I just float along where she tell me to, we are going to sing the praises or rip apart — like Joe and I were ripped apart — beauty products three days a week.

There is nothing I like more than a beauty product, unless its a clean, simple sentence that gets right to the point.

The site is called Chic Critique, and we spent 72,356 hours deciding on that name. Then dcr mom spent 40 days and 40 nights working with a designer on the logo. Again, I floated along and wrote a review on my favorite foundation primer. Whatev. I think my review comes out Wednesday, but ask dcr. She is the grownup.

Oh, and here is the RSS feed. I again have no idea what that means. But dcrmom put it on her site, so I am doing it again. Later we go for the cyanide tablets.

<a href=""><img border="0" view&current="nwdesigns3.jpg" = alt="Photobucket" src=""/></a>

Oh, and let me know if there’s any type of product you want reviewed. Self-tanner? Lipstick? Botox? Because I’d love to try to find the Botox distributor in a town of 3,000. I’m sure I’d live through that.

See you there!

Love, June

Oh, and I lost another 1.1 pound this week! Woo! Only very thin women can chic-ly critique, you know.

Episcopalians Gone Wild

Last night, Marvin and I went to a Mardi Gras party given by a member of the church where I am a secretary. It is the first party we have been to in exactly six months — the last one we attended was our going-away party in Los Angeles.

It was so much fun! Who knew your church members could throw down? Everyone came in costume, and there were beads and masks everywhere, and people drank and laughed and told funny stories.

I didn't know that in the South, you actually show up at the party on time. For those of you on the West Coast, you will understand when I tell you the party started at 5:30, so naturally we showed up at 6:45. Yeah. Everyone was there and they'd gotten way into the pork loin already. Fortunately there was enough for us, still.

I did not overindulge and blow my Weight Watchers, in case anyone was worried sick. I had one tiny medallion of pork, and these balls of cheese, spinach and some bread product that I'm certain Gwynneth Paltrow wouldn't be caught dead eating, but man, was it good. Oh, and one chocolate truffle. I recorded it all. The truffle was one point.

And by the way, did you know Weight Watchers counts sex as one activity point?

Also, I had my first experience of small-town, everyone-knows-your-bidness sort of a thing.

Last week, a pharmaceutical company in Raleigh called me, wanting to interview me for a proofreader position. If I got the job, it'd mean I'd move to Raleigh now and Marvin would come along after the school year. The interview was scheduled for Thursday, so I told the rector, my boss, that I would come in on Friday this week instead of Thursday. "Okay!" he said, "What fun thing are you gonna do on Thursday?"

Okay, I am not going to lie to a man of the cloth. I mean, I am not that religious, but come on. You are going to the bowels of hell's hinges for lying to a priest. So I told him.


If you think everyone at that party didn't ask me about the interview (I didn't even go! I canceled it because it was a contract position, and I thought why am I moving away for a job with no benefits?), and tell me I simply had to stay in Tiny-Town, and that if I needed gay men friends, they all knew of some and they'd hook me up.

I do not even know how they knew I missed gay men. I guess someone read my blog.

Anyway, I really do heart these people. They are great. Not one person here consults a pet psychic, or has told me what they are in therapy for, or has an agent. It is refreshing and delightful and if we do move away this year, I will be remain friends with some of these folks forever.

Oh, and also? I keep forgetting to tell y'all I cut off ALL MY HAIR and it is really, seriously short and it looks cute as hell and everyone told me so last night and I simply must get a photo up for you. Currently I am in my green robe with the pink ball tassels and a green towel on my head, so a photo right now would not be pretty.


I'm sitting here in my pink turtleneck and my dark blue sweatpants, which is a delightful combination and I don't look at all like I should be talking to myself and gesturing wildly while I push my shopping cart filled with old baby shoes and cat litter or anything.

While changing clothes for my run, I remembered I hadn't blogged all day, so it seemed like writing in my health blog was a great excuse to put off running.

I have been keeping up with my Weight Watchers really well. Of course, we are on day two, so let's not give me the Weight Watcher Purple Heart or whatever just yet.

Last night, I had a craving for blueberry waffles, and I had points left, so I made some. Marvin Gardensalad decided that blueberry waffles sounded good at 9 p.m., as well, so he started making some, too. I had my waffles all ready, and as I turned toward the living room, and they FLEW off my plate and right onto Marvin's pajamas. The maple syrup sort of froze them in place.

He was pleased.

I am happy to say that he gave me HIS waffles, as he was suddenly out of the mood for them. They were delish. His pajamas thought so, too.

If I hadn't been eating well all day, I would never in a million years have craved blueberry waffles, by the way. It's just not a food I think of.

That is about all I can tell you, except that I had a delightful time today having tea with one of the women in town. I went over there because her husband accidentally got a letter addressed to him at the church. In fact, it referred to him as "reverend," which was news to both of us. Anyway, it was a gray, rainy day here, and when I brought over the letter, she opened the door to her 1920s Craftsman home, and a fire was burning, and there was dark wood everywhere, and a grandfather clock was chiming and oh! you could just curl up there all day.

She made me some really good ginger peach tea, and we had such a good talk. Turns out we both have always wished to go to Mardi Gras and also to Times Square on New Year's Eve.

When I was in college, all my roommates decided at the last minute to get in the car and drive to New Orleans to go to Mardi Gras. I didn't go because I had a QUIZ. A quiz. Is that the saddest thing ever? Not going to Mardi Gras with my housemates is my biggest regret in life. And you know Mardi Gras at 21 would have been way more fun than Mardi Gras at 42.

We talked about how everyone always tells you you really DON'T want to be in Times Square at New Year's, and the same with Mardi Gras, but neither of us think that is true.

She does not, however, share my lifelong dream to have been a go-go dancer in the '60s. I do not know why not.

So I had a good time with "the reverend's" wife. We are still waiting for him to tell us when he snuck in that divinity school.

Okay, I have told you my life story. I guess I have no choice but to run now.

Gifts and yoga and death

Other than the part where Heath Ledger died, this has been a lovely day.

Wasn't that shocking? Here we all are waiting for the Britney news, and he has to up and die. I thought he was a wonderful actor, and also cute. Who knew he was all up in the valley of the dolls?

In my actual real life, I got the news that my friend Blanche had a baby. I called her (I want you to know she called ME and TOLD me to call her, otherwise I would never call anyone who had a newborn because my mother would flip her lid and then poop a brick, which you have to admit is kind of tempting to inspire, isn't it?), and instead of baby discussions, we ended up talking about her golden Retriever, Daisy, for twenty minutes. And yes, capitalizing "Retriever" and lowercasing "golden" is correct.

Do you know what I hate? People who say "golden Lab." It is a YELLOW Lab or a GOLDEN Retriever. There is no such thing as a golden Lab. And what's with the word "golden," anyway? What's wrong with just "gold"? Don't they mean the same thing?

I have been proofreading all afternoon. Can you tell? I have been cleaning up after another proofreader, who is usually better at proofing than I am but I think she was smoking the golden bowl while she worked (see that? I got the word "golden" in, even though it made absolutely no sense), because she was making all KINDS of bizarre changes. "Italicize this! Even though up until now we never did! Make this all caps just for fun! Wooo! smoke smoke smoke…"

Chase that dragon, girl. Get that monkey off your back. Whatever.

My other good news is that when I got home from work — the secretary work, not the clean-up-after-Courtney-Love-the-proofreader work — there was a package waiting for me from coffeegal, who not only has a blog that I like, but now she is selling cute kitchen-y things, as well, and if you guys think you're gonna snatch up that heart apron before me, you are sadly mistaken.

Anyway, she sent me some fitness gee-gaws, which includes one of those large water jugs that looks like a miniature version of an at-work water cooler. Only it has a handle. Do you feel like you're right here looking at it with me? See what I mean, when people say I should write a book, and I ignore them? This is why. Anyway, she got me a cute water holder.

And also too, she gave me the prettiest blank book, and I do love me a journal. And she had good gift presentation too. I like me the coffee gal. I mean, I liked her before she plied me with gifts, too.

My third and final piece of good news is that today when I went to the nursing home to read to Miss Lilly, there was a beautiful long-haired black kitty hanging outside! I plan to seduce him and bring him home. He looks exactly like my cat Ruby, so I can totally fool Marvin Gardensalad for weeks, at least. "No, that's Ruby! I know she was just in the bedroom. Now she's here! What?"

I am off to do yoga with the Australian "meter" lady again, and this time I will have all of your jeering comments on how big a meter is to aid me. By the way, is it a bad sign that I sound like I am crinkling up a Doritos bag every time I move into another position? I sound like this: crickle, crackle, crackle.

Is that bad?

Here’s Looking at Your Sports Bra, Kid

For all of you who wrote to tell me a meter is a yard? I don't know how big a yard is, either. I mean, a yard. Isn't that a large space where dogs can play? THAT'S how far I have to spread my feet during yoga? Wow. Is that a fenced-in yard, or….?

So, it's official. I have signed up for the Rock and Roll Half Marathon in Virginia Beach this summer. I'm rockin' out with my pedometer out.

My friend Sleeping Beauty actually knows how to run, you know, fast. I have the feeling 20 years of friendship are going down the tubes as we run this thing together.

One time Sleeping Beauty and I took a vacation together [see below. Won't you enjoy my tie-dye and also my Swatch watch?]. We rented a little cabin on a lake in West Branch, Michigan for a week. I swear I am not lying when I tell you we brought (a) baby carrots and (2) a box of wine as our nutrients for the entire week. 


[Note: I just called Sleeping Beauty to make sure it was okay that I put her picture in this blog, and she says she doesn't remember the baby carrots.]

Anyway, we were driving to the cabin and on our way we passed a Jeep full of young boys. "Look at them," Sleeping Beauty said. "Every time a car passes them, all four of their heads turn in unison to check if it's a hot woman."

So I did what any self-respecting woman would do. Or maybe not. I took off my shirt and sat as calm as you please, in my bra, as we drove past their stupid Jeep. Finally their unison head-swivel was worth it for them.

What I am saying is we will probably have fun at our half-marathon. Maybe we can put wine in our water bottles, or just run in our sports bras. That'll be pretty.

But if we don't, we'll always have West Branch.

Foggy Non-London Town

A fog has rolled in to my little town, so tonight my view from the treadmill was of my wooded area in the back yard covered in fog and backlit by streetlights. It was very London and dramatic, and I kept looking for Ichabod Crane to come throw a head at me.

Here's a little tip: just get on the treadmill in what you had on that day. I have done it before, and if you are just going to walk briskly and not run at a breakneck pace, you'll be fine. I mean, I put on my running shoes. But sometimes your excuse is that you don't want to change clothes. You really don't have to. That's why there's Maytag appliances.

So my friend Sleeping Beauty and I are officially going to train together for a half-marathon, which is 13.1 miles of running, in case you didn't know. When I ran that marathon, so many people asked me, "So is that one of those 26-mile marathons?" Fortunately I was in very good shape and not at all able to get tense or I would have punched about 70 people. ALL MARATHONS are 26.2 miles. Yes, there are ultra-marathons which are like 100 miles or some nonsense, but you know what I mean.

Anyway, Sleeping Beauty lives on the East Coast and I live in the South, so we're running in Virginia Beach at the end of August.

Perhaps you're wondering why I have decided to name her Sleeping Beauty. That is her real name. Her parents were the Brothers Grimm.

No, no. It is actually a stupid story.

Okay, I'll tell it. We worked together at a museum circa 1989-1991 and technically I was her boss. At said job, we had a really. REALLY. weird secretary. Something was wrong with her. So my friend comes in to work one day really tired, and curls on the Papasan chair in our office to take a nap. The secretary said, "Whatcha doin'? Takin' a nap?"

The secretary had an annoying habit of asking really obvious questions.

So my friend tries to ignore her, but the secretary just said, "Sleeping Beauty Sleeping Beauty Sleeping Beauty Sleeping Beauty" ad nauseum.

I reminded old Sleeping Beauty of this story today, because I am the kind of person who remembers crap like that from 19 years ago, and she said, "What about the part where I was sleeping at work? Why did we tell this story over and over to make fun of the secretary when no one was concerned that I was taking a nap DURING WORK?"

Good bossing on my part.

Also, tonight I had a turkey sandwich from Subway, so I am totally being Jerrod right now.

That's all I have to say about that. Good night. Sleeping Beauty, Sleeping Beauty, Sleeping…