Sunday, April 29, 2012

Saturday, April 28, 2012

TIME OUT

Dear Friends,

I have suffered a loss. I need to take some time to grieve. I might post occasionally or put up a rerun for you.

I'll be back -- maybe in a few weeks, but certainly by the end of the summer.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Friday, April 27, 2012

FREAK OUT FRIDAY

My Dear Friends,

This week's Friday question comes from a lady I'm proud to call my pal, dirtycowgirl. Someday I shall make my long-awaited visit to England, and the very first thing I'll do is find the nastiest dirtycowgirl in London. I hope we're both still alive when I can afford to go, which may be never.

dirtycowgirl's question is as follows: Have you ever had a threesome, if not would you like to, and if so would you have two men or two women ?

My Dearest dirtycowgirl, Jane, Jane, Jane, 

I have a threesome every single night with two men, a Bordernese named Franklin and a smooth 

collie/malinoix named Harper. Nobody does it better than those two puppies.

Now, I'll be honest: No, I have never had a threesome. I've barely had twosomes.

Threesomes really don't interest me. I'd be thrilled if one man could stand me.

But thanks for playing. That was an excellent question and could have been answered in a very nasty 

way if you had asked the right girl.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Thursday, April 26, 2012

WIN, PLACE, AND NOW SHOW

This post comes in third in the race for my most popular posts ever. It's called "Mr. Rogers Did Not Wear a Sweater To Cover Up His Tats."


Gentle Readers,

I don't know why some people love to take reality, no matter how great it is, and try to turn it into something else.

How many of you have received the email that's been making the rounds for years -- the one that says Mr. Rogers was a military hero?

Well, Mr. Rogers was a hero as far as I'm concerned. He truly loved children and wanted to use television as a medium for the betterment of their lives.

But, gee, I love to burst your bubble of stupidity. If you did any research at all, you could easily find out that Fred Rogers never served in the military. First, an email went around that said he was an Army sniper during the Korean "Conflict" with a ton of kills to his credit. Then an email went around that said he was a Navy Seal in Vietnam. Whatever story you got, it always ended with, This battle-hardened veteran wore his sweater to cover up the many tattoos on his arms.  *sob*

Bullshit! Mr. Rogers didn't need his sweater to cover up his non-existent tats because as I recall it, he wore a long-sleeved shirt. He was a veteran of a Presbyterian Seminary who found his life's work and mission in children's television. He never, ever served in the military.

Before you pass on emails that purport to tell implausible truths about people, how about giving them a quick check? It didn't take me long to figure out that Mr. Rogers wasn't in the military. And the minute I saw that email for the first time, I questioned its authenticity. It just didn't sound like Mr. Rogers.

Why must people constantly take reality and try to turn it into something else? I liked Mr. Rogers just the way he was, and he felt the same way about me.

It's you I like.
It's not the clothes you wear.
It's not the way you do your hair.
It's you I like . . . 

Infinities of love,

Lola

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

AND IN SECOND PLACE

This post is my second most popular ever. It's called "Hiccups and Waterboarding."


Gentle Readers,

Someone I love and I have been having an argument, oh, for about 20 years now, about how to stop hiccups. This someone can be incredibly annoying because this someone hiccups and stops but once this someone gets started hiccuping, the hiccuping continues on and off for the rest of the day.

This began as an attention-getting device when this someone was very young.

I have always told this someone, Hold your breath.

This someone says, That doesn't work.

I say, It might not work the first time, but if you do it over and over, the hiccups will stop, or you will pass out. Either way, it will be the end of the hiccups.

This someone refuses to cooperate, preferring to annoyingly hiccup the day away.

During our most recent hiccup day argument, Favorite Young Man chimed in and said that he knew how to stop hiccups. He said, You lean your head back, pinch your nose, and someone pours water down your throat. You get very wet and it stops the hiccups.

We were surprised to learn that waterboarding stops hiccups but were pleased to realize that when our government waterboards prisoners, it's not torture. It's just to cure the prisoners' hiccups.

What a revelation.

Infinities of love,

Lola

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

MY MOST POPULAR POST SO FAR

I don't know why this is my all-time most popular post. It's called "Dumpy Men With Beautiful Skinny Wives."


Gentle Readers,

I watched the dvd of Couples Retreat recently and felt perturbed by a prominent aspect of the movie.

Granted, it had some amusing moments, especially the tantric yoga scenes.

But how come these four men, two of whom are decidedly unattractive and one of whom is downright obese, are with such extremely beautiful and almost too slender women? Yes, all four women were very, very good looking.

Maybe they married these men for their wit, charm, and good humor, but studies have demonstrated that people who are considered really good looking usually marry other really good looking people and people who are not so great looking usually marry other not so great looking people.

I don't get it. It's o.k. for the men to have beer bellies, have the face of a bulldog (don't fret bulldog owners - bulldogs are beautiful, but their faces are not right for men), or look like neanderthals whose knuckles should be dragging on the ground, be workaholics, ignore the little lady's interests, and she's not going to dump him and go off with a good looking guy who worships her and gives her everything she wants?

That's Hollywood for you. The men don't have to look great, but there's a different standard for women.

During Seinfeld's heyday, I knew some college girls who referred to what they had labeled "George Syndrome"; specifically, George Costanza who was pretty chubby, rude, and balding, went out with good-looking women all the time. Do you remember George ever having an ugly date? And what did George have to offer? A bad temper and a spotty employment history. He didn't even have his own apartment all the time. He had to move back in with his parents for a while.

George Syndrome: It's for the birds, and I'll flip you one movie and television industry.

Not so lovingly,

Lola

THREE DAYS

Today and the next two days, I am in reruns. I have to create a Web site for a friend and do some other stuff that I've been promising to do for months. 

The three posts I'm publishing are my three most popular posts ever.

I'll be back on Friday to answer the Freaking Friday question, which comes from my pal dirtycowgirl this week.

Monday, April 16, 2012

WHAT? MONDAY

My Friends,

I watched a very good movie on Saturday: The Iron Lady, for which Meryl Streep won the Academy Award for Best Actress. She deserved that award, too. Streep really inhabits the character of Thatcher as only she can do.

Anyhoo, at one point in the movie MT says something about being remembered for what you've done. I'm sorry I can't quote the script exactly, but it's not on IMDB.

But we can turn it into our What? Monday question without the exact wording. What have you done or accomplished for which you're remembered?

And I don't necessarily mean feats for which you'll have immortality. Why would people remember you right now?

I feel pretty comfortable about answering this question. I believe I'll be remembered because of my children. My children will have children and each generation will be better and more talented. I can't wait to see what my children will accomplish during their own lives, other than having children of their own, which they'd damn well better hurry up and do. I know people already remember them and me because of their musical, artistic, mechanical, mathematical, and writing skills.

I think I'm also remembered because of some of the articles, stories, and poems I've written. I know I made some people very happy by writing newspaper articles about them. When I quit working in journalism, I had a drawer full of thank you notes from people who appreciated my work. It was so kind of them to let me know.

Now, what about you? No matter how big or small, What have you done or accomplished for which you're remembered?
I look forward to reading your answers because I know you do a great deal of good with your lives.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug




Friday, April 13, 2012

THE MAN FROM ATLANTA

The Man From Atlanta
 by G.L. Wallace 
(reprinted with the permission of Carol Wallace-Conner)

When the man from Atlanta passed through the portals of
Ebenezer Baptist Church, into the harsh blinding
light of America's racist reality,

Rosa Parks took his hand;

And there a people made a stand that set a whole nation
into motion from the streets of Montgomery, Alabama;
They did a slow dance together; it was hard in the 

beginning because they had forgotten the steps and
had trouble learning the tune;

But they danced and they danced, and they were winning soon,
and there evolved a whole new Black wave of dancing and
singing that had been lost in the centuries of chains

weighing on the feet of bondmen;

Hope took over from fear and let a new people appear, proud
and determined, they turned a nation around, to look in
the mirror of itself, and relisten to the pseudo-sick-sweet

words of liberty and death, uttered with faltering breath;

When the dancer's feet slowed with fatigued-progress, they
asked, "How long?" and the man from Atlanta said, "Not long,
no lie can live forever;" When they thought they heard

him wrong and they asked again, "How long?"

"Not long, even a nation shall still reap what it sows; the moral
arm of the universe reaches out but it still bends
towards justice;"  justice, way down yonder in the land

of cotton, where the very word had been forgotten and

An age old regime of disenfranchisement lay preserved in
Mississippi mud; the dancers came to Mississippi on
winds of change so profound, that they brought the

governor's mansion crumbling to the ground;

Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York state;
let freedom ring from the snow capped Rockies of Colorado;
let freedom ring from Pennsylvania's Alleghenies and

Look Out Mountain in Tennessee;

And a great gathering there will be when Black and white,
Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, shall join
hands and sing in the words of that old spiritual from

the past: Free at last, free at last;
thank God a'mighty I'm free at last;

Oh to be a dancer and sing all sorts of songs! at Selma Bridge,
Ain't Nobody Gonne Turn Me Around; by the dogs of Birmingham,
We Shall Not Be moved; in Washington D.C.,

We shall Over Come;  "Are you tired sister?" marching along 
beside me, seventy years old and Black;
She says, "My feets is tired, but my soul is rested."

Oh, to be a dancer and sing all sorts of songs; when I must
meet the most common denominator of us all, to dance my
final dance and sing my final song, don't say too many

words over me, please don't talk too long

Of plastic prizes, and planetary awards and degrees of education;
for I've been to the mountain top, and I've seen the promised
land; so when you speak of me after I'm gone try to make

them understand -- that I loved somebody;

That I could study war no more, but will beat my swords into
plowshares and spears into pruning hooks; if they ask the
meaning of my life, and you must give an answer, say that

I labored in the vineyards of the Lord as a singer and a dancer;

For an assassin's bullet in Memphis can not kill a dancer;
an assassin's bullet will never pierce the armor of his
soul; an assassin's bullet will never touch the spirit of

the dancer moving in our hearts, cleft as the rock of ages
to hold him;

Has anybody here seen my old friend Martin? I been kind of
missin' him lately; can you tell me where he's gone?
Birmingham, Chicago, Jackson, New York, Memphis;

he freed a lot of people, but the good they die young;

When the man from Atlanta stepped from the hallow sanctuary
of Ebenezer Baptist Church, a troubled world grasped his
hand; he sang with them, danced with them, prayed with them,

freed some folks, LOVED SOMEBODY,
then we just looked around and he was gone. 


*Not to be reprinted or distributed without the permission of the copyright holder, Carol Wallace-Conner.

Monday, April 9, 2012

WHAT? MONDAY

My Friends,

Do you know the names of Snow White's dwarfs?

Happy, Sleepy, Dopey, Doc, Grumpy, Sneezy, Bashful.

If you had to be one of Snow White's little men, what dwarf would you be?

Before I started taking a decongestant/antihistamine for my spring allergies, I was definitely Sneezy. But most of the time, I'd say I'm Sleepy because I'm so darn tired from doing virtually nothing.

Actually, I have always needed quite a bit of sleep. I don't do well without my 22 hours/day of beauty rest.

But what about you? What dwarf would you be?      

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Oh my goodness! How did that naughty Snow White get here?

Thursday, April 5, 2012

WHAT IS LOVE? WHAT IS INTIMACY?

Friends, This lovely post is from Jaya at Pickles n' Tickles.

This is a prayer during my intimate time with God. Not always but I do have a bit of faith-related personal time every now and then. The prayer speaks of a lot of love. Of the people and things that matter to me, and a personal struggle in still trying to find a place in my heart to love unconditionally or freely if that's even possible because sometimes I'm just too selfish for my own good. 

Lord
I praise and thank you for this day. 
For another day in my life. 
Thank you Lord for preserving my going out and coming in,
and thank you for the food you've given me today. 

I thank you Lord for my dear husband. 
For my parents and brother. 
I thank you for my uncles, their wives and children. 
Thank you Lord for my parents in law, 
Alex, Jane and Suaran. 
Thank you for being with them. 

Lord, I pray for all those who know me, 
and also for those who don't know me. 
I pray for my dear colleagues, friends and relatives.

Lord, be with those who need you at this very moment. 
Victims of natural disasters and those trapped in war zones. 
Those who've just lost their loved one. 
Comfort those who're in bad relationships, 
lonely people, the homeless, 
and those who're battling against illnesses. 
Walk with them and carry them when they can't walk anymore, 
like how you've carried me through some of the lowest points of my life. 
Thank you, Lord. 

Thank you Lord for loving me despite all that I am. 
Thank you Lord for showing me Love, 
and help me to love others like how you love me. 
Thank you for knowing me. 

Amen. 


Brava, Jaya. Thank you for sharing with us. We send you loads of bloggy love.



Wednesday, April 4, 2012

BORN AGAIN PORN AGAIN

Dear Friends,

At the last newspaper where I worked as a reporter, a very cute young woman had the desk next to mine. I absolutely adored her, except for the fact that the publisher was always calling her into his office to tell her what a great job she was doing.

She did an O.K. job, but my work was much better and I never got a pat on the back. Of course, she wore very short skirts, and did I mention she was young and cute? Super cute?

She also had a friend who was super cute. Cute Young Reporter and I usually ate lunch together, and one day she told me an interesting story about her super cute friend, Boobs McGee.

It seems that Boobs suddenly had a lot of spending money. She was tossing dough around like she was an Italian woman making a pizza crust. C. Y. Reporter said nobody could figure out where Boobs was getting her spending money.
Then, all of a sudden, the truth came out. Someone in their circle of friends discovered that Boobs was presenting herself live in her own home, online, in all her naked glory. And people were paying to look at her. This was in the early days of the webcam, so Boobs probably made a killing.

But then Boobs' daddy found out. PASTOR McGee demanded that his little girl give up her lucrative business. She did, and I hope that by then, she had enough money to buy sexy lingerie for the rest of her life.
Here's to Boobs McGee! May her former business venture never return to bite her on the butt!

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Tomorrow! Please be here for our final weekly post on love and intimacy. Our guest postess is Jaya J of Pickles n' Tickles.





Tuesday, April 3, 2012

NOT JUST NONSENSE

Dear Melynda, and hangers on,

Mel, have I mentioned to you that your book is absolutely delightful?

And it's hilarious?

And it's sweet?

In case you hangers on haven't read it yet, Just Nonsense consists of posts Melynda wrote for her blog, Crazy World, from January to March, 2011. I wasn't following Melynda at that time, so the book gave me a chance to see her start out as a blogger, and I didn't have to flip from one post to another on the computer. All I had to do was flip a page.

"The Great Mouse Hunt" made me laugh, Mel, as did many of your stories. "Mr. P's First Love Story" is a hoot. I absolutely adored Elisa's daughter, The Hippie, getting angry at Mr. P. for leaving her alone outside: "The Hippie leapt off my lap like Tigger, she ran over to him, and put her tiny little finger in his face and said, "Paaarker! That was not nice!"

Thank Heavens The Hippie decided, eventually, to forgive Mr. P. I just wish someone could figure out why that child has a Boston accent.

I could relate to Mr. P thinking he was African American when he got a tan. When The Hurricane was four, she asked me why Grandpa was black but I'm white.

Grandpa was not black. She saw him during summer vacations when he had a dark tan.

But I was impressed by your wisdom, too, Melynda. I loved the idea of the mom jail in "A Lesson He's Never Forgotten," when the boys got in trouble and you and other moms created a jail for the naughty boys, filled with work and drudgery and bread and water for meals. And talking to the police.

What a way to teach kids that their behavior can have serious consequences, especially as they grow older.

Mel, you are so practical and down to earth and smart and kind. You are the one person who has said to me, "Jane, just stop it."

And I needed to be told.

You are my coach in weight loss and in writing and in life.

Cheers to Melynda and Just Nonsense.


I purchased my copy of Just Nonsense from Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/Just-Nonsense-1-Melynda-Fleury/dp/1466381434/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1330578928&sr=8-2.  You can also purchase the ebook at http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/137018/.

Melynda, I am so proud of you.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Monday, April 2, 2012

WHAT? MONDAY

Dear Friends,

This week's What? Monday question is going to make you think for a while, or perhaps you won't have to think at all. You'll immediately say "rats" or "spiders laying eggs in my ear."

The question is What is your greatest fear?

I've been horribly afraid of any sort of bug for as long as I can remember, but since moving to Florida, I've had to slay dragons (a.k.a. lizards) and battle the ugly palmetto bug.

Don't fret -- that's not me. I'm much prettier when I have Florida's state bird on my nose. Yes, the palmetto bug can fly. It's a gigantic, flying cockroach.

I've also had to take care of a dead rat that my boys killed, hoping I would cook it for dinner.

They were disappointed.

So, I've kind of become accustomed to nasty things that run around. Although I don't like them, I'm not as afraid of them as I used to be.

Ever since Mary Jo Kopechne died, I've been afraid of drowning in a car. That fear has stayed with me through the years.

But my fears are changing as I grow older. I think my greatest fear now is that my children might not be happy and somehow it will be my fault. The Hurricane swears I spanked her once when she was little. I swear I didn't. What if I'm wrong and I ruined her life by spanking her?

Nah. I'm just kidding. I think I'm really afraid I'll spend the rest of my life alone, the crazy old lady in the house with ten million barking pooping dogs.

Uh, wait. I'm already the crazy old lady with barking pooping dogs. Foiled again.
Now how 'bout you? What is your greatest fear?

Infinities of love,

Janie Junenotapalmettobug

This Thursday's (final) guest postess on the topic of love and intimacy is Jaya J of Pickles n' Tickles.