June 1st
When I was growing up, our next door neighbor’s name was June Furst. Once my father dressed up as the invisible man on Halloween, wrapped his face completely in gauze, crept up behind a teenaged boy that came to our door for candy and tapped him on the shoulder. It scared the poor guy so much that he broke the lock on our screen door and ran through our living room. Mom wasn’t pleased because he tracked red Georgia clay all over her pristine carpet. Since this prank worked so well, Dad decided to try a new one. He persuaded Mom to dress up as the invisible man. (June Furst had already seen Dad in the costume.) Mom walked up behind June Furst in the kitchen and grabbed her boobs. June shrieked, “My God David, what are you thinking!?” Of course it was actually my Mom who grabbed her . . . ha-ha.
Anyway, many years later my sister Jennifer was standing in line at a Dairy Queen and the man in front of her said something about June 1st. My sister piped in, “Do you know June Furst? I haven’t seen her in years!” The man turned, looked at her dryly, and announced, “I was talking about the date.”
Once June Furst pulled my mother aside and said, “I think Gail hears a different drummer, if you know what I mean.” In the 1950s this wasn’t a compliment; it was a warning, perhaps a prediction.
Maybe women named after calendar dates should keep their observations to themselves!
posted by Gail @ 9:31 AM
13 Comments
13 Comments:
I don't understand the name of your blog. What does "downt hed rain" mean? Then I thought you might mean, "downted rain," or "downth ed rain."
Who the hell is Ed anyway? Was that the chimp you were hanging out with--the one who was giving your dog meth? Does he have any left?
I need it to cure the narcolepsy I contracted from reading about your sister. Wasn't she dating the chimp? Is that why he refuses to go shoping with her?
Anyway, you get my point; never let a chimp date your sister. They become dangerous when aggrivated.
“I think Gail hears a different drummer, if you know what I mean.” In the 1950s this wasn’t a compliment; it was a warning, perhaps a prediction.
It was a prediction for sure. BTW, Jerry (whoever he may be) is a (misguided) moron (who, like all of us, is beloved of God).
Feel free to omit the parentheses.
Hey, El Mole; The expression is "marches to a different drummer."
I think you hear your boyfriend calling from the closet--maricona.
Why don't you go back and service the pseudo-intellectual mutants who read that pretentious blog of yours.
Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Whoa, Whoa, WHOA! C'mon guys; take it outside.
And another enters the fray...I'm with el moe. Finally. Here's someone else who thinks jerry's a Misguided Moron and I'll throw in Obnoxious. Gail, you just march on to your beat and ignore the MOMs of the world.
I figured you were with Ray, maricon. You two need to get a room. You read my response, you dont have the foggest idea what it means, and you want to appear to be a hero by joining in to call someone a name.
I'm sure glad you gave Gail the morale boost; she would never have pulled herself out of the massive depression I put her in without your inspiring support.
I am glad that Gail is beginning to get some readers, even if they are ass holes.
Actually, Jerr, the expression is: "marches to the beat of a different drummer." And it's "maricón" not maricon or maricona. Pseudo-intellectual mutants? Very smooth Jerr. That's Mr. Pseudo-intellectual mutant to you, sir.
Superb as usual Gail. I don't really understand the verbal jousting between these other folks. As Rodney King once said (after his several bruises, lumps and lacerations healed) "Can't we all just get along?"
I have a name story that elicits only one emotion from me: envy...
Being a freelance illustrator it's always important for me to get my name out there any way possible. I had a friend in high school who had the moniker Mike Cuangelo. I already knew at that age that I was going to be an artist....
I deserved the name Mike Cuangelo...."sigh"
Gail, I'm prejudice because I'm your pal, but you are one of the most talented people I've ever known. You are a gifted writer and just funny as hell. I'm lucky to have you as a friend.
Well el moe, you win. I folded under pressure and misquoted an old saw. Since I grew up in West Tampa, I know what a maricon is, but you need to look up the definition of maricona.
In spite of your witty reparte, it is pretty classless of both of us to engage in childish sarcasm and name calling. I'll give you the win on this one for restraint and understatement.
And to be fair, El Moe was quoting my quote of June Furst's. And who decides whether a person is a pseudo-intellectual or an intellectual. I'll admit I'm neither. (Big surprise.)
I KNEW that June Furst was a troublemaker!
P.S. As I've always said [or paraphrased, now that I'm paranoid], "All's well that ends."
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