A NEW FRIEND

This little guy is living in my bathtub. I've moved in there with him. We've become close friends.

Protector and Comandor Princess brings us gnats to eat. Alice turns on the water sometimes. 

This post is my last this week. I'll see you Monday.

WHERE WEDNESDAY: VIRGINITY

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I'm getting pretty nosy this week, but some curiosity between blogger buddies can be fun.

My question today is the following: Where did you lose your virginity? For bonus points, you can tell us how old you were. For even more bonus points, you can identify your partner, as long as it won't cause harm to that person. 

To get the fun and games started, I'll answer the questions myself. I lost my virginity in the backseat of a blue Ford Mustang 💙 on Valentine's Day 💖💖when I was 17, but about to turn 18, because my birthday is February 23rd. 

As you probably know, the backseat of a Mustang is small and cramped, or at least it was in that old Mustang. The year was 1977––also the year I graduated from high school. But I was young, skinny, and nimble, and able to perform sexual gymnastics in a confined space. 💋💋💏😘😗😙😚 

The boy and I were desperate to lose our virginity together. We were madly in love and thought we would get married and adore each other forever. We were going to have three children and name one of our sons Paul for Paul McCartney because we loved The Beatles so much. 💕💞🥰💘💗💖💓💑💘💝💕

That didn't happen. None of it happened.

His name was Tom, and he broke my heart the following year. 💔💔💔💔💔

I was a freshman at a college in our hometown; he was a year younger and still in high school. He was busy with high school stuff, including high school girls.

Boo-hoo. He was such a brat that he wanted to be involved with other girls, yet he wanted me and didn't want me to date anyone else. That was not going to happen. He was a huge cry baby about it. The stress and anxiety were terrible for me.

I was glad when he was completely out of my life, but at least he performed the task of breaking my hymen so I didn't have to wonder when, where, and with whom it would happen.

Okay. I've revealed my secrets. 

PLEASE SHARE YOUR ANSWERS IN YOUR COMMENT!!! THE WORLD WANTS TO KNOW.  

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

RANDY STRIKES AGAIN

 

Below are two of the ads the felon and his villains have created using OUR money. I understand if you don't want to watch them, but I urge you to do so. He's telling us what he's going to do, the same way he told us what he was going to do before January 6th.

FINAL MEME MONDAY OF SEPTEMBER

 This is no meme. Yesterday was my beloved Carol's 88th birthday. The snow bird will return to Jacksonville before October ends. She has not yet met her new granddog, Alice. If you would like to wish Carol a happy birthday, please say so in your comment and I will convey your good wishes to her.

Now, on to the memes.

With all the troubles we have in these United States, Tommy Tuberville, idiot senator from Alabama, is worried the airlines have been taken over by pilots, air traffic controllers, and attendants who identify as furries. I am not making this up, but he is. And of course, Democrats are at fault for this catastrophe.

Tuberville gave a 20-minute speech on the floor of the senate, not about gas prices, food prices, or the Epstein files, but about the airline furries. He said passengers might be flown by a pilot with a "deranged fetish of dressing up like an animal."

🟧 banned CNN, MSNOW, and Politico from covering him last week and took away their press passes at the White House because their stories are "fake news," according to the biggest liar on the planet. A judge ordered their credentials be restored temporarily, which kinda, sorta happened, before 🟠 banned them again. When the press banded together to not step in for CNN as the press pool, it was about time, but it was also fine with me if I didn't hear the sound of his ugly voice while he kissed up to the communist dictator of China. 

SADNESS SET IN WEDNESDAY

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I didn't have to work Wednesday, so I asked the girls' Auntie Maureen if she'd like to go out gallivanting around with me. Maureen expressed a willingness to gallivant that pleased me greatly. 

I picked up Maureen in Steve*, the redmobile 🚗🚗🚗, and off we drove, two gad abouts. Before we could continue our good times, I had to stop by the office to see my favorite IT guys briefly. Wouldn't take more than 10 minutes. I couldn't take Maureen in with me (secrets abound within), but she didn't mind waiting with Steve.

The security guard, Will, met me at the office door, only to tell me IT is no more. "Bob" & "Brian" had been fired as part of a sweep across the country to get rid of IT employees. I know the company is switching over to AI, but does that mean IT people are no longer needed to discipline our computers when they misbehave? 

Bob and Brian were long-term employees who had assisted me numerous times in the office or over the phone after I became a remote employee. They were kind, always made information clear, and sometimes we shot the shit for a few minutes. I hope they've moved on to better jobs where they are appreciated, because the company I work for appreciates no one. Values no one.

Will walked around the floor with me as we talked about how much the company has changed for the worse. The fourth floor of the office building that the business spent more than a million dollars to remodel is a ghost town. The return to office was a failure. Most employees simply wouldn't do it. They quit and got remote jobs if they weren't granted a work-from-home accommodation as I was.

Workers are also sick of ever changing metrics that can never be met, benefits taken away, wages that don't come close to meeting the cost of living. You'd think we're Wal-Mart employees. I have a college degree and multiple accreditations and licenses. I was criticized recently for saying okay too many times during a phone call with a client. How many more nits are there to pick? 

I told Maureen about my beloved IT guys as we took off for Town Center (an upscale shopping center I seldom visit because it's far away and the traffic is horrible), where we planned on having lunch. The rain already coming down hard at the office became a deluge through which we could barely see.  ⛈️🚘😒

But we arrived safely and enjoyed a nice lunch together before heading home in rush hour traffic that began before 4 p.m. We used the time between slow-moving vehicles to vent to one another about how much we despise 🟧 and ICE.

The two best dogs in the world greeted me when I returned to our home. But I felt a heaviness that wouldn't go away. A sadness for employees who have done nothing wrong but are fired after years of hard work. The never ending anxiety for our country and what the felon did yesterday, today, and what he might do tomorrow.

I awoke multiple times Wednesday night and had nightmares in which I saw the face of an ugly, old white man threatening me.

Some good news: Alice is making progress. She learns from Princess. Princess' training included a Princess, sit at the conclusion of a walk. I take off her leash, stroke Princess's head, look into her eyes, and say, Princess, free. Then she is allowed to run off to the family room or wreak havoc somewhere else in the house.

After Princess takes off, Alice now sits, waits to have her leash removed, allows me to pet her (which is a big deal), and waits for me to say, Alice, free. 

I'm such a proud dog mom.

Junebug, free.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P,S. I'm off this weekend and have lots to do, so I'll see you Monday.

*My vehicles are usually ladies. Steve is an exception, named after former Indiana University basketball superstar Steve Alford, who is now the coach of the Nevada Wolf Pack. He plans on retiring at the end of the 2026-2027 season.

Steve the basketball player, not the car
oo la la
🏀⛹️

WHERE WEDNESDAY: WHERE'S YOUR SAFE PLACE?

 I thought I had this post set to publish Wednesday at 6 a.m. Clearly, I did not. I hope it works on Thursday.

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Most of us have safe places where we like to put important items. Then we can't remember where the safe places are.

One year Mother bought a blue girdle to give to my oldest sister for Christmas. She put it away somewhere. When it was time to wrap gifts, Mother wandered around saying, Where in the hell is that blue girdle?

She found it the following summer in an entropy-laden closet. She had looked for it there, but I think the blue girdle hid from her because Mother was as mean as a snake.

After my beloved Franklin died a couple of years ago, Dr. G and his staff sent me a nice sympathy card. Also in the envelope were Franklin's paw and nose print, and some of his soft, thick fur. 

I appreciated their thoughtfulness so much.

I knew I would want to frame Franklin's paw and nose print with a photo of him in the future, but at the time, his death was so recent and my mourning so painful that I decided to put the special items in a safe place. 

Months went by. I wanted to look into framing the items. So I went to get them from the safe place, which I was sure was a drawer in my dressing table.

They weren't there. 

I checked the drawers in the wardrobe, because the wardrobe could be a safe place.

Nope. 

The dresser drawers? It didn't make sense that they would be my safe place, but maybe . . . .

Nothing.

I asked Maureen (the dogs' Auntie Maureen) if she remembered what I had done with the precious Franklin items . She was here when the envelope arrived. Maureen suggested looking under the couch. Good idea. We were sitting on the couch when I opened the mail. If the things weren't under the couch, maybe they were stuck in the couch. 

Zero. 

Zip.

Nada.

I continued to search, on and off, checking every drawer and shelf in the house, until I was convinced the prints were gone. I must have accidentally thrown them in the trash.

Then a couple of months ago while I was cleaning up some stuff in the extra bedroom, my eyes rested on one of my filing cabinets and suddenly I knew the second drawer was the safe place. 

 I was so happy. It had only taken me two years to discover the safe place.

Now, how about you? Where's your safe place? Or safe places? Have you put something important in your safe place and then not been able to find it? 

I hope you didn't lose my oldest sister's blue girdle.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P.S. Years later I mentioned the missing blue girdle and no one else in the family remembered it. They thought I was out of my mind. I am out of my mind, but that doesn't mean there wasn't a blue girdle.

He loved asking,
Can I drive you to the store, Miss Daisy Jane?

A WILLY DUNNE WOOTERS POST FROM THE PAST: WILLY DUNNE WOOTERS, THE PALMETTO BUG, AND THE ANTIQUE PLATE FROM NORWAY

This blog post is from 2014. 

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Sunday evening Willy Dunne Wooters and I watched the season finale of Last Tango In Halifax, a romantic show on PBS that we love (WDW says we are just like the main characters). Then we stopped by the bedroom for a visit, just to make sure it hadn't disappeared as rooms sometimes do. After that, we cuddled on the couch in the living room as we said goodnight.

Suddenly I saw a ginormous, gihugic palmetto bug hanging around just below the edge of the fireplace mantel. I squealed and pointed. Willy Dunne Wooters said, Good God, that's a big one (I, too, had made that statement when we checked on the status of the bedroom).

I ran to get one of my yellow shoes, the yellow shoes I don't like very much because they aren't a true yellow. They're mustard.

I used the yellow shoe to try to smack the palmetto bug. The bastard escaped (they always do at first; they like to create a real competition in the area of Person v. Palmetto Bug) and ran up the wall and hid under a plate that's hanging above the mantel.

See the plate with pink roses above the other plate?
He was hiding under the higher plate.

I can't take down the plate to hit the bug, I wailed. Why not? asked WDW.

I'm afraid I'll drop it and break it, I wailed, and my great grandmother brought that plate with her when my family left Norway to live in the U.S. That plate is a Norwegian antique. So is the one under it. 

I'll get the bug spray, said Willy Dunne Wooters. Where's the bug spray?

It's on the cart at the back door where I keep the cleaning supplies, I wailed (lots of wailing in this post). But we can't get the spray on the plate. It could damage the plate and my great grandmother brought it to the U.S. from Norway.

Keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't escape, said Willy Dunne Wooters.

Then I heard all this fumbling around with the cleaning supplies on the cart at the back door, while I stared at the plate and saw an antenna poke out just a tiny bit at the top of the plate.

Willy Dunne Wooters returned. I can't find the bug spray, said Willy Dunne Wooters.

Jesus Christ, I wailed. I gave him the mustard shoe and went to get the bug spray.

See the big red and white container on the top shelf?

It has a spraying wand on the side that resembles a bright red penis.

That's the bug spray Willy Dunne Wooters couldn't find.

I guess I shouldn't expect much.

He is the man who complained that my glass cleaner was 

absolutely worthless when he was actually trying to clean

his glasses with laundry stain remover.

I returned with the bug spray and very carefully sprayed a tiny bit under the edge of the plate. Then a bit more under the opposite side. Then more under the bottom.

Finally the bastard scooted out and headed for the safety of the ceiling. Willy Dunne Wooters stood on my cedar chest, which lives in front of the fireplace that I don't use, and smacked the hell out of the palmetto bug. He hit that m#f! so hard that palmetto guts splattered the wall.

I'm sorry this photo is kind of dark.

Can you see the cedar chest in front of the fireplace?

It has a tapestry on top of it.

I was pretty darn impressed with the way that my WDW

jumped up there and smacked the palmetto bug

with the mustard shoe. 

The late Mr. Palmetto fell on the mantel. I scooped him up with some toilet paper and flushed him. And, yes, I wailed the entire time.


Wooters + Junebug = 100 points

Palmetto Bastard = 0 points


Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug