Tuesday, July 31, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I ask you all today to wish The Hurricane a happy birthday. She was born late in the evening on July 31st. It was most fortunate we were in the hospital. About 30 minutes before she arrived, a nurse told me I wasn't "working" hard enough and they were probably going to send me home.

Oh, no, you're not, I replied. I'm having this baby tonight.

And indeed I did. If I had given in and gone home, The Hurricane probably would have arrived in the car, or at home, or if we were fortunate, in an ambulance -- kind of frightening possibilities since the cord was wrapped around her neck and during the last minutes of labor her pulse dropped alarmingly and she was in "fetal distress."

The Hurricane will not allow me to put her photo on my blog, so I can't show you her beautiful, warm brown eyes and her glowing auburn hair.

The Hurricane doesn't want certain people to know who she is, so I can't tell you how talented and brilliant she is and exactly what she does.

I guess I shouldn't say that she was the valedictorian at her prep school, first in her class in college, and she was elected to Phi Beta Kappa. She doubled majored in college and then chose which of her majors would become her specialty. She went to England to obtain a master's degree and she now works diligently toward her doctorate, while keeping the men of the Bay Area on their toes.

She also encourages young women to work in fields that usually "belong" to men. Other women have cracked or even broken the glass ceiling. She's smashing it to make room for all the little girls who come after her.

I won't tell you any of that about my beloved Hurricane, little sister to Favorite Young Man. I guess I also shouldn't say that she's very athletic and strong and will probably spend the rest of her life giving the world a run for its money.

Hurricane, my baby girl, I love you so much. Welcome to the world!

Infinities of love,


Monday, July 30, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

We interrupt this regularly scheduled What? Monday post to discuss what's happened so far at the 2012 Summer Olympics in London.

What did you think of the opening ceremony?

I liked parts of the opening, particularly Mr. Bean, but I could have done with some great British rock bands, like The Stones. And when Mary Poppins defeated Voldemort, I wanted Julie Andrews herself to fly in and beat the crap out of Ralph Fiennes. I mean smack him in the balls with her brolly.

The corgis were my favorite part, but the Queen parachuting in? Blah. Silly. I think the helicopter should have landed on the field and she could have stepped out and declared the games open and done it in a voice with some authority that communicated I AM QUEEN AND I CAN GO TO A TWENTY-HOUR CEREMONY WITHOUT EVER NEEDING TO PEE.
Do you think she has a lady-in-waiting to give her a royal chin-hair plucking each morning?
Don't you think Queen Elizabeth just looked and sounded bored? And maybe constipated? Prince Philip, on the other hand, looked so happy I think he had been well drugged to keep him quiet and smiling so he wouldn't make one of his stupid comments.

As for the lighting of the cauldron, William and Kate should have shared a kiss that would have set the entire stadium on fire.

I admit I was a bit moved that they dug up Paul McCartney and he managed to spit the dirt out of his mouth to get through "Hey Jude." (Joke stolen from Fran at http://ilurveenglish.blogspot.com/.)
To me, the weirdest part of the opening ceremony was the tribute to the National Health Service with "sick" children jumping on their beds, surrounded by nurses, and then the nurses all got together and delivered the creepiest baby ever.

I watched the games for a bit on Saturday and got so excited when the men's eight won their rowing heat so they could go to the finals that the dogs got a bit upset and gathered round me with those concerned looks dogs are so good at getting.

Remember my boys? This photo was taken where The Hurricane trains.

I'm pretty excited about tomorrow because they've finally added dogs' water sports.
Michael Phelps may have come in fourth in his first race, but I bet he'll be in the lead during the weed smoking competition.
Personally, I tried out for the men's Dream Team, but they said my hand job with balls wasn't quite good enough. I guess I'll just have to relax and watch the games. Or maybe I'll dance!

Infinities of love,


Friday, July 27, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I'm giving you one movie today instead of two because this movie touched me so deeply. It's called Jeff, Who Lives At Home.

Jeff, a 30-year-old weed smoking slacker played by Jason Segal, lives in his mom Sharon's (Susan Sarandon) basement. He thinks a lot about the importance of signs while smoking plenty of weed.

After receiving a wrong number phone call for someone named Kevin, Jeff reluctantly leaves behind his bong to run an errand for Sharon. Jeff follows someone named Kevin because Jeff believes it's a sign, which leads Jeff to an encounter with his brother Pat (Ed Helms).

Antics ensue.

I thought about turning off this movie after about 10 minutes. The next 10 minutes were even worse. Jeff, Who Lives At Home appeared to be the kind of crazy physical comedy that I don't really like.

But I had ordered the movie from Netflix, and I'm too tight with a buck not to watch a movie I've paid to see. So Jeff didn't get turned off.

Boy, am I ever glad I'm cheap.

Jeff turned out to be a movie about my favorite theme: the interconnectedness of humankind. Loves are lost and found; lives are lost and regained; a slacker becomes the conduit for good.

I wish I could express to you exactly how good this movie made me feel. I guess all I can say is that I went to bed that night with a deep feeling of contentment and knowing that God is good. His grace and mercy really do surpass all understanding. Everything happens for a reason.

This movie reinforced and gave words and visuals to my most deeply held beliefs.

Jeff, Who Lives At Home has the Highest Janie Junebug Seal of Approval.

Infinities of love,

Janie L. Junebug

Thursday, July 26, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . but not necessarily Maxwell,

Here's one for the girls. These are the men of the U.S. Olympic Rowing Team. 

I imagine they are in London by now. The opening ceremony for the 2012 Summer Games takes place on Friday (tomorrow!) Be sure to check your local television listings so you can see our fellas in action.

Please: Take a careful look at this photo and admire the hard, the very, very hard work that goes into making the Olympic rowing team. 

Take a look at the muscles in those arms. Count every ab. Imagine those thigh muscles in your bed developed through the difficult training that a crew team undergoes and I wish I had one of them under me.

The Hurricane rows crew, so I have some understanding of the training required. I really, really admire these men. Be sure to cheer them on in London.

Infinities of love with a sigh of admiration,


Wednesday, July 25, 2012


I love you
I love you
I love you so much

I love you the way the stars love the sky
I love you the way the moon loves being full
I love you the way the ocean loves the shore
I love you the way the flowers love the rain

I love you the way that Christ loves the cross
I love the nails in my hands
I love the pain of loving you

Because I can't stop


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell Dumped First Wife,

Yesterday I wrote a post about search terms currently used by weird and creepy interesting people in order to find my blog. If you are one of the losers who missed the post, you can see it here.

One of the search terms questions the identity of Maxwell Dumped First Wife. I responded that Dumped First Wife is not Maxwell's last name.

Then the great Maxwell himself made the following hilarious comment:

I think I shall adopt that as my new name, then start a business where I specialize in informing women they are about to be divorced in over-the-top ways. Like hire a marching band to walk down her street and play the song "Tequila" really loudly at 6am and then run up to her door and, when it comes time for the music to stop and me shout the word "tequila," I instead shout "you're divorced!" and hand her the divorce papers.

Videotaping it to put on YouTube will be extra. Though recommended.

That's my darling Maxwell. How can I help but love him?

However, then I received another comment from beloved new reader Alessandra, whose bloghouse is at  http://alexsblogginglife.blogspot.com/, and if you don't follow her you should. This was her question:

SInce I'm relatively new to your blog, you must illuminate me, is Maxwell your ex? Are you still on good terms with him? I'm assuming so since he posted on your blog.

Yes, darling. Maxwell is my ex, or at least one of them. He was the fourth of my six husbands. Or was he the third? I simply cannot remember.

Ah, Alex, I jest with you. I darn near rolled on the floor laughing when you asked if I'm on good terms with Dr. X. 

Then I called all my friends so they could laugh, too.
After that, I did the chicken dance.

Alex, do you get the impression that maybe Dr. X and I are not friends?

We'll say no more.

Instead, I'll explain about Maxwell. Maxwell and I have followed each other for quite sometime now, but he isn't blogging lately. He's too busy getting laid working. He moved in with Girlfriend. But if you'd like to see Maxwell's blog, he's at . . . wait just a minute . . . 

Maxwell WAS at Misanthropy Chronicles, which has been removed. And that darn Maxwell didn't even tell me he'd taken away his blog. I'm not too terribly surprised, though. I knew that, in his heart, Maxwell was never really a misanthrope.

But back when he pretended to be our resident curmudgeon, he told me he didn't like being called a gentle reader. So the salutation on my blog became what it is now: Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell.

Recently, Maxwell told me he no longer needed his own separate greeting because he wasn't as feisty as he used to be. That's what a happy home life and not being so damn horny will do for a man. 

I tried to write the salutation without the "and Maxwell," and discovered that it made me uncomfortable. I've gotten used to recognizing my dear Maxwell in our own special way. Maxwell's misanthropy always made me smile, and when he comments on my blog, it makes my day. In reality, Maxwell is a very nice young man who is madly in love with Girlfriend. I believe they will marry one of these days. I hope I get invited to the wedding so I can send a very expensive gift.

Stay in love, Maxwell. It does you good.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Tuesday, July 24, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Here are the latest search terms the unwashed masses have used to find my blog, and they are better than ever:

Once again, we have "chubby women in panties." That's becoming a same old same old.
But we have some great new searches, too.

Try these on for size, you chubby women in panties:

why did mr. rogers wear always wear a sweater


who is maxwell dumped first wife

Come out, come out, wherever you are, Maxwell. However, Maxwell's last name is not dumped first wife. If you would like to ask me a question, you can email it to me, and I'll answer it on a Friday (when I'm not doing movie, movie friday).

tribute to dead father inlaw

Does that mean my father was the sheriff? Cuz I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy.
I know this isn't the sheriff.
It's my drill sergeant.

Now here's the topper. Could this be the search term to end all search terms? You help me decide. 

Only if it's dipped in chocolate, honey.

                                                            Take me to Hot Cookie in the Castro, baby.
Infinities of love,


Monday, July 23, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Who gave you your first romantic kiss? What do you remember about it?

My first real kiss came from a boy named Tim when I was in the eighth grade. Tim came over to my house, and we went in my bedroom to talk. My mom yelled at me to keep the door open, but defiant child I was, I closed it.

Tim moved closer and closer and suddenly his lips were on mine and his tongue was in my mouth! Gross! What was he doing?

I bit down.

He yelled.

That got his tongue out of my mouth.

Tim and I were boyfriend/girlfriend for a few weeks, and then I think I tired of him. He was kind of cute, but not all that intelligent.

He didn't take it well when I broke up with him, and he hassled me for a while.

My 35th high school reunion was a couple of weeks ago. I didn't attend. I didn't recognize the names of most of the people who would be there.

But I did recognize the names of many of the people on the deceased list.

Tim was among them.

Now, how about you: Who gave you your first romantic kiss? What do you remember about it?

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Friday, July 20, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I have two excellent DVDs for you to consider watching this weekend.

The first is We Bought A Zoo, based on the true story of Benjamin Mee and his two children, who bought a decrepit zoo in order to make a fresh start following the death of Benjamin's wife.

This movie is just plain charming, and I think it's appropriate for the entire family. Thomas Haden Church is his usual amusing self as Benjamin's (Matt Damon's) older brother, and Scarlett Johansson is the best I've seen her in a long time as she plays the feisty head zookeeper, Kelly.

I thought this movie might be sappy, but it wasn't at all, though it is completely predictable. We Bought A Zoo has the Janie Junebug Seal of Approval, however, for being sweet and family friendly.

Now we move back in time to 1927 -- except it's 1927 during 2011 -- for the 2012 Academy Award Winner for Best Motion Picture: The Artist. I love, love, love this movie. I wish I had seen it on a big screen the way a good movie should be seen, but alas, theaters are too expensive so I am grateful for Netflix.

George Valentin (portrayed by Best Actor winner, the wonderfully talented Jean Dujardin) is a popular silent film actor. When he's at the top of his game, he saves the job of a young female extra named Peppy.

But then the talkies arise, and the ascent of Peppy's career mirrors the descent of George's. Can George be saved?

This movie is vivacious, sparkling, yearning, forlorn . . . I'm running out of adjectives. Fortunately, after the middle section of the film had me feeling rather sad, I enjoyed the happy ending.

It's fascinating to watch a modern-day silent film and follow the story told by gestures, facial expressions, and the musical score. When some sound is added, it's unbearable for George, and almost too much for the viewer. I felt frightened for George, all while loving the adorable Peppy. However, my favorite character was George's favorite sidekick -- his darling dog. What a cutie!

As I watched this movie, I felt I understood the appeal of silent movies in their day and why it was difficult for many actors to make the transition to talkies. When George's studio dismisses him, they tell him they want "fresh meat." What a sad commentary on the worth of a human being.

But George's talent is not gone, and finally, he is not too proud to accept help. When he does, he proves himself worthy of the leg up.

I urge you to rent The Artist. It has the Janie Junebug Highest Seal of Approval.

And it doesn't get any better than that.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Thursday, July 19, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Have you seen advertisements for JustFab? Take a look at http://www.justfab.com/index.cfm?action=home.boutique#tab_shoe.

You also might want to take a look at http://www.scambook.com/company/view/146/JustFab.com.

JustFab is kind of a Book of the Month Club for shoes, except most of the shoes aren't worth buying. Join JustFab and they'll charge you 39.95 on the sixth of each month. If you don't buy a pair of shoes with your so-called credit, you get charged anyway.

JustFab also has handbags and jewelry.

I needed some new shoes and decided to try JustFab, not really knowing what I was getting myself into. Besides, I could earn frequent flyer miles by ordering from them.

The shoes are cute and JustFab has not scammed me out of any money -- yet -- because I've picked out a pair of shoes to purchase with my credit. ("Credit" is such a misnomer; it's your money that charged to your credit card.)

My problem? Most of the shoes don't fit well, and they're cheaply made.

Here's Agnes:
Isn't she a cute gold flat? Yup! But I bet she won't last more than a few months, and I'm gentle on my shoes. The shoes seem to me to be made of plastic materials stuck together with something that doesn't even hold as well as crazy glue.

Furthermore, most of the JustFab shoes have those ridiculously high heels that cause models to fall on the catwalk. Who can actually walk in a five-inch heel?

Not me.

So I'm canceling JustFab, and I warn you against joining.

On the plus side, the company includes shipping in the 39.95 price, and returns/exchanges are simple. You don't even have to pay shipping when you send the shoes back, and I think you'll return the shoes.

Trust me: JustFab isn't worth the money, and I can just picture them scamming people who forget to order a pair of shoes and the company receives the 39.95 without sending out a pair of shoes.

So long, JustFab. You do not have the Janie Junebug Seal of Approval. 

You get the Seal of Disapproval.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug  

Wednesday, July 18, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Your telephone rings. When you answer, a woman tells you that you are to receive a $100 gift card plus a $10 Wal-Mart gift card because you participated in a survey for Waka.

What survey? you inquire.

She can't tell you what the survey was about or when you took it, but if you'll get to your computer, she'll give you the code that allows you to claim your gift cards.

She tells you to go to the waka.com site, and once you're there, she wants you to enter your name and address. Then comes the kicker. The next page on the site asks for your credit card information!

Don't do it! Don't give out your financial information to anyone who calls you on the phone.

The woman who calls you from Waka will tell you they just need your credit card information to charge you a $2.98 handling fee, and then you'll receive your gift cards.


If you don't remember the name Waka, then please remember not to give anyone your credit card number and especially not the three digit code on the back of your card or the four digits on the front of an American Express card. Once these people have your credit card information, they won't stop charging your account. You won't get any gift cards.

You'll be the victim of a scam --and it seems to be a relatively new scam.

You might want to take a look at http://www.scambook.com/search/reports?search=waka+network.

When you receive any unwanted calls from telemarketers, tell them to take your name off their calling list and not call you again. Say it firmly.

If they continue to call, tell them you will file harassment charges with the FCC and they'd better not call you again.

Also, keep a close eye on your credit card and bank statements. Watch for charges that might not be yours.

My most recent credit card statement had several charges for $14.95. These scammers quite often start by charging small amounts to your card after illegally obtaining the card number. When I called the 800 number on my bill, I found out it was an identity protection service that was scamming me. I told them to refund those charges immediately, and if they didn't, I would make a complaint about them.

The company refunded my money, and I'll be watching my statements ever more closely than usual.

Beware! Scams are everywhere!

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P.S. Your bank or credit card company will NOT call you to ask for your financial information. The information seekers are scammers.

Monday, July 16, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I have a series of questions for you today.

  1. Are you old enough to remember watching The Beatles the first time they were on The Ed Sullivan Show? (It was February 9, 1964.)
  2. If you saw the show, did you scream the entire time?
  3. Which Beatle is your favorite?
I was five years old when the great event occurred. I remember sitting in my little rocking chair and screaming my head off the entire time. I was probably imitating my older sisters. 

I don't know why, but when I was five, Ringo was my favorite Beatle. Maybe I chose Ringo as my #1 man because no one else in our family picked him. I don't think anyone else on Earth picked him.

When I was older, I carried on a long-term love affair with Paul. I waited so long for that man to show up at my door that he became too old for me.
I suspect Paul has had a little work done.
His face is stretched pretty tight these days.
He looks more like the older guy he is in this shot.

Yes, George. You are the Beatle for me.
I'm sorry you're gone.

I was never in love with John, but I found him interesting. Yoko Oh No is even interesting as long as she doesn't sing. I admired John and Yoko's efforts to give peace a chance.
I hold my own bed-in every night and sometimes all day.

Now I think George is the man for me. He was a great songwriter who kind of got shoved aside because of the Lennon-McCartney duo. His spirituality interests me, and I love a man with a quirky sense of humor, which has been attributed to George.

Now, how 'bout you? Please share your memories of The Beatles and tell us: Which Beatle is your favorite?

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Friday, July 13, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Maybe I would have enjoyed New Year's Eve more if it weren't July and hotter than Satan's rear end when he sits on his throne in hell, pretending he's king.

New Year's is a cute enough movie. It stars darn near everyone. Sadly, Ashton Kutcher is in it, but so is Jon Bonjovi. Bonjovi trumps Kutcher.
The movie consists of vignettes, each a type of love story. Various characters' lives are intertwined in ways we don't expect. I think I might like this movie if I watch it again as 2013 approaches.

George Harrison: Living In A Material World is far more interesting and well made. We have Martin Scorsese to thank for that. The documentary covers Harrison's life from the time he became a Beatle through his untimely death from cancer, with a special focus on Harrison's spirituality.

Many of his colleagues are interviewed, including Paul and Ringo, and Eric Clapton. His ex-wife, Pattie Boyd, speaks well of Harrison, and his widow, Olivia, tells the story of how they were attacked in their own home and George was stabbed -- something I had forgotten. George and Olivia's son Dhani is included in the documentary, too. He seems quite a handsome and intelligent lad who loved his father.

I had also forgotten how many beautiful songs George Harrison wrote. One thinks of John and Paul as The Beatles' songwriters, but Harrison had a very special musical touch all his own. I always associate "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" with Harrison, but I think of "Something" as a Beatles song and not really Harrison's. I shouldn't. "Something" is a George Harrison-penned song.

I also love "My Sweet Lord," "Taxman," and "Here Comes the Sun."

What a talented man he was. Paul speaks of how quickly Harrison could learn to play a song that someone else wrote, and could add his own little touches that improved the composition. It was Harrison who put together The Traveling Wilburys (consisting of Harrison, Tom Petty, Roy Orbison, and Bob Dylan). He held The Concert for Bangladesh -- the first fundraising effort of its kind, according to the documentary.

Apparently he also had quite the quirky sense of humor, but I don't want to start telling stories about how funny he was. You should watch this documentary for yourself to learn more about George Harrison. I give Living In A Material World the Junebug Seal of Approval.  

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Thursday, July 12, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

There's that special smile we share with someone we love. I might be watching a movie and something funny happens. I look at a loved one. The loved one looks at me. We smile at each other.

I don't get to enjoy that moment very often now that the dogs and I are alone. They smile at me, but somehow it's not quite the same.

That special smile is on my mind today because I've been thinking about my mom. No special reason. She's just on my mind, and in it.

My mom could be kind of difficult at times. Lord knows she was a generous person and a great cook. She kept us well fed. We always had clean clothes. We didn't lack for much.

And the difficult part? Well, she could be pretty darn grumpy. Downright angry. Even cruel.

I always got the feeling she couldn't stand for a person to feel good about herself.

As I've gotten older, though, I've recalled aspects of Mother's personality that I didn't understand when I was young and selfish. I think she was depressed. Having six children would be enough to make anyone miserable. I'm sure she loved babies, but maybe wasn't so crazy about kids when they became old enough to talk back.

One symptom of depression is anger, so maybe some of her anger grew hand in hand with her depression.

I also think Mother had a learning disability. She had trouble with left and right, and said herself that she didn't know how to multiply. I've met a number of people who have to stop to think about left versus right, but going all the way through school and not being able to multiply? That sounds like the challenged kids we have these days, who can play any video game in the world, but don't know how to read.

If Mother had a learning disability, it probably contributed to her possible depression.

In spite of the hard times and the anger that often flared between us, Mother and I were still able to share that special smile. Today I've been thinking about my sister's wedding. I was seated at one table, and Mother was seated at another a little bit behind me.

After my sister walked into the room and took her place next to the groom, the ceremony began. My sister looked so beautiful. Everything was lovely. Such a happy day.

I turned a little and caught Mother's eye and smiled at her. She smiled back.

It was that special smile.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

When I got married, Mother gave me the piano on which I learned to play.
I treasure it, and I play almost everyday.
She also gave me the miniature china piano on the piano.
My lowest A is out of tune; it's driving me insane.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012


Out of the knight she rides
Crying whoa on all she derides
It's Its You're Your There Their They're
Use them wrong and you are such a looser
You'd better prey you get it write.

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I haven't gone on a good grammar rant in quite some time, but I feel quite pissy at the moment; so here we go.

I went to the little bakery and sandwich/salad shop near my house for lunch a few days ago. A sign jumped out at me from in front of the tables where I spent so many happy hours chatting up other patrons especially men who might not be married and were at least reasonably attractive and enjoying a  burger and fries salad with low-fat dressing.

The sign said:

E*** Bakery has closed it's kitchen blah blah blah economy yada yada yada concentrate on bakery blah blah blah we are so stupid we don't know the difference between it's and its and we don't give a fuck that we have ruined 90% of Janie's social life outside the blogosphere.

I read that sign and my jaw dropped to my bodacious ta-tas. The young ladies behind the counter looked at me sympathetically. They understood how important my little lunch forays into the world were. I could have a reasonably priced, healthy meal; socialize; and stay within my microcosm.

First, I felt upset about the destruction of my life. Then, I felt pissed off that the damn sign said "it's." What the frickin' frackin' hell is that?

The owners of the bakery happened to be standing behind the counter with their backs to me as they slobbered over the money in the cash register, so I went into rant mode.

You do realize that sign has an error, don't you? I screamed said very politely.

That sign actually says that E*** Bakery has closed it is kitchen, I screeched, while bloodying an unfortunate bystander's nose mentioned, making sure no other customers were present as I gently pointed out the error.

One of the owners turned and said, Where is there an error? On the Web site?

No, dumb shit. The error is right here on this sign. Why would anyone put up a sign with such a stupid error? Aren't you embarrassed and ashamed?

Of course, the two owners didn't really give a damn and ignored me apologized for upsetting me by closing the kitchen and printing a sign with an error.

So now I'm sad I've lost my hangout -- my only hangout in my microcosm -- except for the dive bar across the street from the bakery, but the error in the sign makes me want to KILL present a pleasant lesson on the difference between it's and its, which I believe I've already accomplished and I'm warning you all not to fuck it up.

I'm also a bit tired of the lack of antecedent and pronoun agreement. For example: A woman has a right to kill their husband.

No! No! No!

A woman has a right to kill her husband.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

Your favorite Grammar Bitch is getting two tired to get in to dangling gerunds today.

Yes, we all make misteaks. Sometimes we even make intentional errors because they can be cute and funny. But please try to write right.

And by the way, who is subjective case, and whom is objective case.

Infinities of love,


P.S. I must mention this error because I see it so often: If you have two large candy bars, but one is larger than the other, please don't say that the larger one is the largest. It can't be largest unless you have at least three candy bars of varying sizes. The three would be large, larger, and largest. With two, you have a large candy bar and a larger candy bar. Likewise, if you have two children, then you cannot have a biggest and a smallest nor an oldest and a youngest.

I think I feel a little calmer now that I've gotten all this crap washed off my bodacious ta-tas.

The grammar quiz will be next week.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I have some luscious new search terms that the unwashed masses have used to find my blog.

Here they be:

we shall overcome gay prejudice

banksy near city lights bookstore if at first you don't succeed

chubby women

chubby women in panties

fat woman looking in mirror

we shall overcome junebug

we shall overcome beatles

And the piece de resistance:

hold your tits

Infinities of love,

Lalalalalola, who likes lemon cola, and is on a roll-ah

Friday, July 6, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Maxwell, I miss you. I miss your cute grouchiness. It's great that you're in love and living with Girlfriend, but I miss you. I wish you'd return and write about how you hate everyone. Then I wouldn't have to be grumpy. I could just enjoy your style of cranky.

Ah, well. On with the show.

First up we have J. Edgar, directed by Clint Eastwood and starring Leonardo DiCaprio as the famous and infamous J. Edgar Hoover.  This biopic is interesting, but not great. It's rare to see a biopic about a complex person that actually helps one understand WHY the person is how he is.

Hoover seems to have been dominated by his mother. O.K. Lots of us have domineering mothers, but we don't turn into people who bully the President and other prominent leaders.

I was a bit afraid when I started watching that Hoover would be mincing around in a dress and high heels (not that there's anything wrong with that; I just didn't want to play the voyeur). I should have had more faith in Eastwood as a director. Although he leaves no doubt that Hoover's long-time best friend and constant companion Clyde Tolson was gay, Eastwood leaves Hoover's sexuality up in the air. That's fine with me.

However, he does not leave Hoover's lies about his crime fighting exploits up in the air. It's quite clear that J. Edgar liked to take credit for arrests made by actual agents. He seems to have been the type of guy who sat behind and desk and schemed -- sort of a Richard Nixon kinda man.

DiCaprio is quite good, but the make-up used to age him into Hoover is not so great. Rather silly looking.

I recommend this movie if you're at all interested in the history of the FBI or if you're a DiCaprio as an actor fan or Eastwood as a director fan. If you want a bright, sunny comedy, however, this is not it. It's really quite a dark film, appropriately, as Hoover had quite a dark personality.

Now let's go back to 2006 to revisit a film called Half Nelson, starring my boyfriend Ryan Gosling as teacher Dan Dunne, whose sad, lonely student Drey sees him enjoy a little crystal meth in the school locker room after a basketball game. I know this sounds like the kind of drama that will make one feel miserable, but somehow it manages to be heartwarming instead.

For a while, Dan gives in to his habit, but then he starts to pull away and clean up. He knows he has to protect Drey from the neighborhood dealer who will gladly turn this young girl into his assistant. This movie may put one in a little tizzy for a while as one feels concern for Drey and perhaps some anger toward Dan, but ultimately, this is a feel good movie. I love Half Nelson. If you've never seen it, then I strongly recommend giving it a try. Or if you haven't seen it since it came out, then enjoy it again.

My boyfriend Ryan was nominated for a Best Actor Academy Award for this indie film.

Stay cool this weekend. Enjoy a movie in the AC, after you've spent plenty of time reading a good book, such as Bible Girl & The Bad Boy by E. C. Stilson (our beloved Elisa -- the middle child I never had).

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Thursday, July 5, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

You can relive your teenage angst, but laugh at it this time, by reading Bible Girl & The Bad Boy by E.C. Stilson, available at http://www.amazon.com/Bible-Girl-Bad-EC-Stilson/dp/1463653654/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1341446406&sr=1-1&keywords=bible+girl+and+the+bad+boy in paperback or a kindle edition.

Seventeen-year-old Elisa likes to be different. She wears thrift shop clothes -- including polyester pants -- and dyes her hair with red Kool Aid. She also carries her Bible with her at all times.

Now, we all know that with teens, different isn't so cool, especially when the girl with the Kool Aid hair is suddenly judged a hypocrite and a bad girl instead of a Bible girl.

But how does Elisa get to be a bad girl?

She meets and falls for a bad boy. His name is Cade.

This memoir, the second from Stilson (the first is The Golden Sky), is absolutely adorable with its Romeo and Juliet motif and Stilson's memories of meeting her true love. Of course, Romeo and Juliet -- and Cade and Elisa -- go through some very tough times, but in this case, our Romeo and Juliet end up living happily ever after!

I highly recommend Bible Girl & The Bad Boy because of its comedic elements and because of its portrayal of how tough it is to be a teen. Parents should definitely read this book, just in case they've forgotten what it's like to get through those difficult high school years.

Ah, high school: Not exactly the days of wine and roses. But Elisa's descriptions of Cade make my heart go pitter-pat.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Tuesday, July 3, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I was going to review Bible Girl & The Bad Boy today (a great read, available at http://www.amazon.com/Bible-Girl-Bad-EC-Stilson/dp/1463653654/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1341326488&sr=1-1-catcorr&keywords=bible+girl+%26+the+bad+boy), but Franklin has been sick.

It started Saturday with a rash on his tummy. He couldn't leave it alone. He was scratching and licking it so much that he had blood on his face. He wouldn't let me treat it with doggie rash spray. It probably stings.

So I gave him an antihistamine. It really knocked him out. He ate supper that night, but looked miserable.

He had breakfast Sunday morning, but a few hours later he barfed it up (sorry, but he did). Then he drank some water and it came back up.

Poor little Franklin didn't eat supper on Sunday or breakfast on Monday. He also didn't drink anything. Although he doesn't go outside much, he can't go without water for long, especially in this heat.

He wouldn't even eat chicken noodle soup (mostly broth) or a saltine.
Monday evening when he wouldn't touch kibble, I boiled a chicken breast and let it cool. I put a few small pieces of chicken in a bowl, and they proved irresistible. He gobbled them down.

It was amazing how he perked up after eating that chicken. He actually played for a few minutes with his partner in bromance, Harper.

This morning he ate a little kibble mixed with chicken, and then finally, he drank some water. Everything is staying down.

The rash is still there, but we'll work on that.

I thought we would be making an expensive trip to the vet this morning. We'll still go if it becomes necessary, but I think Franklin will continue to recover.

Franklin has kept Mommy rather busy, so we don't have a regular post today; but I knew you'd want to read about my Frankie.

I had a long night last night. I was caught in a complicated nightmare.

I was in high school again -- a nightmare in and of itself.

I got angry after volleyball practice and when everyone was gone, I set the gym on fire. On Monday, the coach accused me. Somehow she knew it was me! I wouldn't admit it even though I knew it was me!

I had to repeat my junior year in high school, all the while denying that I had set the gym on fire.

I think I had the nightmare because my 35th high school reunion was last weekend. I didn't attend.

Maybe the nightmare was my punishment for not going to a reunion I didn't want to go to anyway because most of the people I knew are dead.

But I'm still here, and so is Frankie.

At the moment, he's looking out the living room window and barking at a cat that's strolling down the street in the heat.

We'll stay cool and take tomorrow to relax.

We hope to return on Thursday with the review of Elisa's newest, which you won't want to miss (go to that link at the beginning of the post and order now if you don't have her book yet).

You know, Elisa is my middle child I never knew I had. She's exactly the right age to be between Favorite Young Man and The Hurricane.

Any girl who would dye her hair with red kool aid has to be a kid of mine!

Infinities of love and have a safe and blessed 4th of July,

Janie Junebug

Monday, July 2, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

The Seven Habits of Highly Successful People by Stephen R. Covey has absolutely nothing on Twelve Habits of Highly Successful Cats & Their Humans by Dulcy & Dee Ready.

After all, Covey isn't channeling the thinking of a superior being; that is, he doesn't work with a cat named Dulcy as Dee Ready does. 

Dee Ready will not accept compliments for "her" writing because she's absolutely certain she is able to write because she channels Dulcy's words. So be it. Normally, I would say pish posh to such a belief, but if Dee Ready says something, then I know it's true.

I don't know how I can give any higher compliment to Dulcy and Dee than to say there is a purity in their writing that I rarely see. As I always tell friends and students about my beloved The Great Gatsby by F. Cat Scott Fitzgerald, it's lyrical and it doesn't have a single wasted word. I have exactly the same feeling about the gentle and loving Twelve Habits.

Each habit has a section by Dulcy intended for cats and kits. Then Dee adds how the habit has affected her life.

The habits include "Discover Your Heartwish," "Listen With An Open Heart," and "Share Your True Heart."

When Dee's second cat and Dulcy's companion, Bartleby, dies, Dulcy misses his friendship, but her heartwish has come true: Dee is now a one-person cat.

As Dulcy writes in "Grieve Your Losses": After his death, I rested on his grave each day and keened my love:

Gentle you are, unassuming
--artlessly sleeping and grooming.
Gracious you are, always purring
--kindness and companions preferring.
Gladness you are in your being
--beauty and bliss from your springing.
Gone; still your memory delighting,
--your love for us ever abiding.

Dee, in her section, then writes: Many people practice the stiff upper lip when they lose someone to change or to death. They can never let themselves mourn their loss . . . . A dream, a heartwish, can dissolve in the reality of daily-ness. A belief can fail to meet the needs of our growing experience.

I felt an especially strong connection to Dee's reaction at Bartleby's death; it brought back the death of my beloved Collie, Faulkner. I shed tears of sadness and joy over Dee's feelings about Bartleby. I grieved, and I still grieve the loss of The Dog of My Life. Dulcy and Dee's beauty brings him and his love back to me.

You can purchase Twelve Habits of Highly Successful Cats & Their Humans by Dulcy and Dee Ready at amazon.com in paperback or for your kindle: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_15?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=twelve+habits+of+highly+successful+cats+and+their+humans&sprefix=twelve+habits+o%2Cstripbooks%2C321.

You can also click on the image of the book on Dee Ready's blog at coming home to myself to make your purchase. The paperback is only $6.88. I strongly recommend purchasing a copy for yourself and several others as gifts for cat loving friends.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Sunday, July 1, 2012


Dear Hearts and Gentle People,

I'm ever so sorry, but Elisa can't be here today. She's taking a little rest -- locked in the trunk of my car.

You see, I reviewed her book, The Golden Sky, and I wrote a little poem for her. But my blog is private, so very few people were able to read about my unabashed admiration for Elisa. To get the review and the poem out to the world, for today, and today alone, I've hijacked The Crazy Life of a Writing Mom. If by some miracle, you find you like me, you really like me, then please send an email to me at dumpedfirstwife@gmail.com to request an invitation to my blog, Janie Junebug's Journal. The first requirement for admittance is that you NOT be my lunatic ex-husband.

Now, that's enough about me. Let's get on with the show. Here's my review of The Golden Sky:

The Golden Sky by E. C. Stilson should be required reading for anyone who might be considering -- even remotely -- the possibility of having sex and getting pregnant. I wish it had been around for me to read when I was 17.

I take this stance because a major theme in this work of non-fiction is that life is not fair and life can be very difficult, and it takes hard work and maturity to get through those tough times.

This book is the journal that E. C. Stilson (Elisa) kept as a young woman. When she was 19 years old, Elisa and her husband Cade had a very young daughter, and Elisa was pregnant. Sadly, their son Zeke had medical problems that resulted in his death. For a time, Elisa and Cade were separated as each sought different methods of dealing with their agony.

It's raw and real. I felt I was with Elisa every step of the way. I must say that if I had been a friend of Elisa's during the time that Cade went off to join a band and smoke pot, I think I would have bitch slapped him but good. That's how strong my feelings were as I read.

I think the sweetest part of the book is when little daughter Ruby wants a helium balloon and then to Elisa's dismay, lets go of the balloon immediately after they leave the store. Ruby then explains in toddlerese that she is sending the balloon to Zeke because they don't have balloons in Heaven. God bless you, Ruby.

Just in case you don't know their story or are not a follower of The Crazy Life of a Writing Mom (Elisa's blog, which you should be following), I'm not going to tell you what happens between Elisa and Cade after they suffer this heartbreaking loss. Read the book so Elisa herself can tell you what happened. Although the death of a child is unimaginable, in the spirit of the poet as "namer" and "sayer," Elisa is able to put these events into words so we have a better idea, a better understanding, of death and bonding and estrangement.

The Golden Sky is a must read. You can purchase it at http://ecwrites.blogspot.com/p/golden-sky-my-journal-about-zeke_02.html. I bought my copies from amazon, where the book has earned five out of five stars.

And I urge you to buy multiple copies. I love to have extra copies of a good book around the house so when a birthday rolls around, I already have a gift. In this case, give The Golden Sky to all the teenagers you know who are old enough to have children, but most likely are not mature enough to deal with the difficulties and the setbacks that can occur.

E. C. Stilson has just released a Young Adult fantasy entitled The Sword of Senack. I have my copy, and I'm sure I'll review it soon.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Warning: Once you pick up The Golden Sky, you won't want to put it down.

And here's my poem for Elisa. Even though I wrote it, I get a little teary-eyed when I reread it.


Elisa, if I could make a poem for you,
it would not be made of mere words.
The words would be colors floating around you,
even when the words were spoken.
The first color would be red,
as red as a Ruby.
The second color would be blue,
as blue as the Sky.
The third color would be green,
as green as an Elf.
The fourth color would be every color, 
as reflected in a crystal for Indiana Jones.
And every word, every line, every stanza,
would begin and end with your golden love for Zeke,
the boy who had to leave,
the boy who is as Peter Pan,
the boy who will never grow up.
And you, Elisa, you are Wendy,
the mother to lost boys.

Thanks for reading today. I'll let Elisa out of the trunk now. She'll be back tomorrow.