Friday, February 27, 2015


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

It's time for The Cephalopod Coffeehouse, hosted by The Armchair Squid.

The idea is simple: on the last Friday of each month, post about the best book you've finished over the past month while visiting other bloggers doing the same.  In this way, we'll all have the opportunity to share our thoughts with other enthusiastic readers.

My book for February is Sophie Writes a Love Story by our blogger friend, Linda Kay. You can find Linda Kay at Senior Adventures.

I'm quite fond of this book, and proud of it, too, because I can claim editorship. You can purchase Sophie Writes a Love Story on Amazon at* Sophie is the second in a series of books that Linda Kay is writing in memory of her mother and grandmother.

Sophie Writes a Love Story is just plain charming. I can't think of a better word to describe it. Yes, it's a romance, but I won't call it a conventional romance. Linda Kay keeps us in suspense and finds ways to surprise her readers. This book is an adventure/romance. Perhaps that helps portray it.

Sophie has recently become a widow. She considers selling the family home and moving to a smaller place. As she looks over items stored in her attic, they bring back a "flood" of memories. When you read the book, you'll know why I put flood in quotation marks.

Here's Sophie perusing items in the attic:

Her wedding gown was sealed in a plastic bag, but the years had taken their toll. The gown was yellowed, and the lace was almost a coffee color. She removed the fragile garment from the bag and held it in front of her, twirling around in a slow waltz, closing her eyes and thinking of Carl. An old white, leather-bound album of wedding pictures was complete with a small music box at the top that played the wedding march. Carl was so handsome in his suit. The black-and-white pictures didn't do justice to those brown eyes that had captivated Sophie all those years ago. A lump caught in her throat. She flipped the pages and wondered about all the friends who had been a part of the wedding. Where were they all now?

Isn't that beautifully written? And the question about old friends becomes an important part of the book.

Sophie Writes a Love Story earns The Janie Junebug Seal of Highest Approval. Linda Kay, I'm so happy for you. You are an accomplished writer.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

*Linda Kay very graciously gave me an autographed copy of this book because I edited it, but I want to make it clear that I'm not receiving any remuneration for this review. I am not paid based on the number of books that sell.   

Thursday, February 26, 2015


Salutations! Glad you drug yourself over to read a movie review.

Whiplash is a WOW movie (2014, Rated R, I watched it on a DVD from Netflix [I have a subscription]).

Are the two main characters in this film brilliant, or are they insane? Andrew (Miles Teller [who or whom--I can't decide if it's subjective or objective], who or whom I like so much in The Spectacular Now) is a drummer at a prestigious school of music in New York. Teacher and conductor Terence Fletcher (J. K. Simmons) invites Andrew to play with the core jazz band. Fletcher reels in his catch with kindness and won't let the student off his sadistic hook.

I've loved J. K. Simmons for a long time. He's hilarious with Tom Hanks in The Ladykillers. He's excellent as the father of the titular* character in Juno. I didn't know he had a Terence Fletcher in him. He plays supporting parts, and for this movie, he won a number of Best Supporting Actor awards, including the Academy Award. But is this really a supporting role, or was it pushed as a supporting role because his win would be a sure thing? And what about Miles Teller**? If Simmons is best supporting actor, then why isn't the actor he supported sporting a Best Actor Academy Award in his trophy case? Teller wasn't even nominated.

Written and directed by Damien Chazelle, he has stated that the movie is partially based on his experience as a band student in high school, and the intimidation factor he felt with his instructor.

The question we face here is the following: How far can a teacher go to turn a promising student into a genius?

Terence Fletcher: There are no two words in the English language more harmful than good job. . . . I was there to push people beyond what's expected of them. I believe that's an absolute necessity. . . . I never really had a Charlie Parker. But I tried. I actually fucking tried. And that's more than most people ever do.

As the parent of two brilliant oxymorons, and yes, I know I brag a lot about the kiddles, I can tell you that if one of my kids had a band teacher like Terence Fletcher, the man would wear a trombone around his neck and a trumpet up his ass. But then, I paid attention to my children. I still check on them. Andrew's family does not support him, though his father improves somewhat. 

However, I know some teachers pushed my kids to be great. I'm not a pusher. I'm filled with pride, and I encourage the people I love. My children probably upped their game because of pushing from teachers. 

I don't want to reveal too much. I understand the end of the movie. We all have different life experiences that will contribute to our impressions of Whiplash. Whiplash earns The Janie Junebug Seal of Highest Approval, although I don't know if many of you will agree with me. In addition to Best Supporting Actor, Whiplash won the Academy Awards for Best Sound Mixing and Best Editing. It was also nominated for Best Writing, Adapted Screenplay and Best Picture. I think you will love it, or you will hate it. 

This movie is not for children. Handle with care around teens. 

One scene I feel I can discuss without spoiling the movie is when the bus breaks down on the way to a jazz band competition. This experience is real for me because of children in my family. One of my nieces went on a band trip. The bus broke down, and the kids slept in a McDonald's parking lot. Most of them didn't have enough money to get something to eat. Favorite Young Man went from Maryland to Florida for a band competition. When it was time to go home, the bus would only run in reverse. They couldn't go backwards from Florida to Maryland, so they were delayed while the company got another bus.

I feel this movie. I feel it strongly. I understand if you don't.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

*I like the word titular because it starts with tit, and I feel smart when I use it.
** Miles Teller is in every scene in this movie. He does much of his own drumming. Some of the blood you see on the drums is his.

Wednesday, February 25, 2015


Long live Queen Stefani!


Tonight is right.
Tonight is the night.
I have you in my site.
Your glow is oh-so-bright.
Your work I will cite,
or I won't.
You should feel fright,
but you don't.
Stand still there under the light.
Enjoy the power of my might.
Tonight is the night.
Tonight is right.



Dear Tired and Poor,

I watched a Great Performances show about Judy Garland on PBS. I wanted to know what happened to the guy she was married to when she died, so I Googled him. What in the hell else would I do?

His name was Mickey Deans. He was her fifth husband and was married to Judy for about two seconds before she died. Here's the sentence from a Huffington Post article/blog that made me laugh:

He [Mickey Deans] could also be found selling Judy's clothing out of the trunk of his car around the West Village, a practice that he continued up until the time of his Death on eBay.


I almost died on Which shopping service has tried to kill you?

People talk about movies that should or shouldn't have won Academy Awards. I think the greatest rip off ever was that Judy didn't win Best Actress for A Star Is Born.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Tuesday, February 24, 2015


Dear Atheists, Agnostics, Believers, Don't Carers, and Beliebers (oh my god I'm gonna throw up),

I've been trying out some different salutations. I need a change occasionally, and yes, that includes my panties. If you have a salutation you'd like to suggest, then go to hell let me know what it is, and I might try it. You get an extra one hundred points if you can include "drug" in the salutation where it should be "dragged," because replacing dragged with drug drives Andi Filante crazy. She blogs at delusions of ingenuity. She's very funny, and I think it will be hilarious if we use drug right now to make her so crazy that her husband, Philly's Done Hooters, will have drug her away to the mental hospital by midnight to get some real drugs.

My birthday was yesterday. I am 26. Oh, God, what will I do when I turn 30? I might as well die because I'm so old.

The Hurricane called yesterday to wish me a birthday happy. She gets everything backasswards. Interesting that she's 28, and I'm 26. People used to think I was her older sister. Maybe I am. Hmmmmm.

Now, let's Gaga, as in Lady. I've admitted before that I had to ask The Hurricane what a Lady Gaga was. She explained "more performance artist than just singer." I liked the Gaga, as in Lady. Her name is Stefani, and she's really into it's okay to be different. Rita Pita Pan of SoulComfort's Corner likes her, too. Recently I heard that Gaga, as in Lady, wasn't hot anymore, that her career was going down the toilet. I was shocked. Someone also said that Madonna is finally losing her popularity. I don't care about that, but I don't want Gaga to go away.

Then Gaga, as in Lady, performed at the Academy Awards on Sunday night. She sang a 50th anniversary tribute to The Sound of Music, and she knocked my fucking socks off. Here's what I can get online:

We have a new Julie fuckin' Andrews, but with tats. Thank you, God.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P.S. I've tried to include a few Gaga videos from the Oscars because I'm afraid they'll take them away.

Monday, February 23, 2015


I just realized that since it's after midnight, it's my birthday. I could ignore it and not say anything, but some people know and it's on my Facebook page. I am 85. I'm very spry for 85. Oh, that's because I'm 56. Don't bother to ask what Willy Dunne Wooters gave me for my birthday because he doesn't do holidays and gifts. It's okay because he's generous all the time. God bless my Willy.

I'm going to take my sad depressing shitty joyful birthday thoughts to bed and sing happy birthday to me. I bet Franklin will join me.

A birthday alone is a little depressing. I don't know if it's more or less depressing than my first birthday alone. I can't remember that birthday because it's when I turned one.

I think Neil Patrick Harris was a mediocre Academy Awards host.

Please tell me in your comments what you think of his performance.

If you want to wish me a happy birthday, you can use the paypal account associated with my email address. If you aren't sending money, then just forget the whole thing.


If you DVRed or Tivoed the Academy Awards and you don't want to know the winners till you have time to watch the show, 
then please don't read this post.

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

It's about 10:45 EDT as I begin this post. My overall reaction to the Oscars until a few minutes ago––other than Patricia Arquette––was huh? uh . . . eh . . . Is that all there is?

Then In Memoriam came on. I saw Robin Williams. Tears. Someone, I don't know who she was, accepted an award earlier and mentioned a member of her family who committed suicide. She said something to the effect of We need to talk about suicide out loud. How true. I think suicide will show up on my blog this year, but not because I committed it.

Now let's talk about the other crap stuff chuff I've seen so far. We're at 10:55. Wait a minute--there's actually a good best song nominee from Selma. It's John Legend (beautiful voice) and Common, who raps. I'm glad he brought up the tragedy in Ferguson. This number is powerful, and it just won the best song award. NOW some other stuff:

  • Maybe I'm disappointed in the host because I expected too much of Neil Patrick Harris. I thought he would have an amazing opening number with great singing and dancing. It was okay.
  • Neil Patrick Harris is not funny––at least not tonight. Stripping down to his underwear in an homage to Birdman did not amuse me.
  • I haven't heard a single presenter say something funny.
  • Neil Patrick Harris said something about Oprah that supposedly was based on her wealth, but I think it was really a poundage dis.
  • Jared Leto is prettier than anyone else in the place.
  • How does Jennifer Lopez get her breasts to stay up so nicely inside her low-cut gown? Maybe they're taped.
  • Every time they show Michael Keaton, who is nominated for Best Actor in Birdman, the guy is chomping on something. Gum? A cow chewing her cud? Shut your freaking pie hole, dude, until/if you win. (He didn't.)
  • Lady Gaga's dress is weird.
  • It's 11:16. Lady Gaga changes into a pretty dress and performs a tribute to The Sound of Music because of its fiftieth anniversary. I like Lady Gaga, but I did not know she could pull this off. The woman belongs on Broadway. I had no idea she has such a wide range. Fricking bloody hell I'm impressed, and the lady is getting a well-deserved standing O. Now she's in Julie Andrews' arms. Julie looks a little emotional. The tears are back in my eyes.
  • One of the screenwriters thanked his dog, Larry.
  • Who in the hell names a dog Larry? Franklin feels quite superior.
Now, let's talk Patricia Arquette. She was considered a sure thing for Best Supporting Actress in Boyhood. I thought she was great. Yeah, she won. I love her for her acting and because she looks like a regular woman. She doesn't weigh ninety pounds. She's pretty. Her face isn't frozen in place by plastic surgery. BEST OF ALL, she said it's time for women to take their place as equals with men, to have equal pay. This cause is one of mine, and I was thrilled by the way Arquette let loose.

The Academy Awards took away Patricia's full speech that I posted. Selfish pigs. So now you just get this news clip.

I also loved Meryl Streep cheering on Patricia.

The guy who wrote the screenplay for The Imitation Game just gave a good, emotional speech. He says he tried to kill himself when he was 16 (?) because he felt different from everyone else. Fricking public schools want to churn out cookie cutter kids (my words, not his). No child left behind, my ass. Every child is unique. It's crazy to expect that they'll all do the same thing.

It's 11:40.

Eddie Redmayne just won Best Actor for portraying that schlub Steven Hawking. So Eddie slouched in a wheelchair and used Hawking's creepy voice. I look forward to seeing all the nominated performances so I can decide if Redmaybe deserved the win.

Best Actress--Julianne Moore. Whatever. I hope her performance is half as good as her acceptance speech.

Eeeww. I had a cookie and milk. Shouldn't have. Now I'm too full.

Okay. Best movie--Birdman. That's it. I'm ready for bed.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Friday, February 20, 2015


I'm so sick I can't sleep, so I figured I might as well look up the horrendous opening number from the 1989 Academy Awards when Rob Lowe and Snow White sang. I'm sorry that the only clip I can find and embed has some explanation in Spanish of what's going on.

I must say I enjoy Cyd Charisse in this. She should have done the entire opening. Look at those moves. The woman was almost seventy. I didn't look that good when I seven or seventeen.


Just past 5 a.m., and it's 29 degrees. Houses here don't have the insulation to stand up to cold.

I haven't slept all night. I'm not a bit sleepy. I will be eventually.

Thursday, February 19, 2015


Dear ones . . . and godless heathens,

I'm sorry, but MOVIE WEEKEND is taking a little break because Mama don't feel so good.

I look forward to the Academy Awards on Sunday night.

I'm not all caught up in what people wear and who wins. I usually enjoy the opening monologue. Doogie Howser has proven himself an excellent host on multiple occasions. I like it when he sings and dances because he's a true Broadway star.

I haven't seen most of the movies that are nominated. I haven't seen hardly any movies that are nominated. But here's what I think about Sunday night:

  • I saw Boyhood and loved it, but I've heard great things about Birdman.
  • I don't know who should win the acting awards, except that Patricia Arquette should win for "Boyhood." Pundits seem to think that's a lock.
  • I saw The Grand Budapest Hotel. I don't know if it will win anything. I like Wes Anderson, but I wish the Academy had showered him with awards for The Royal Tennenbaums. They didn't really seem to notice him till this year.
  • Saw Maleficent. Minor nomination or two. Angelina, you know I adore you, but I wasn't that crazy about the movie.
  • Finding Vivian Maier is nominated for best feature length documentary. Don't know if it deserves to win, but it's a great movie.
  • When it comes to makeup and production design and all that stuff, how the heck should I know what deserves to win? For that matter, the movies that deserve the awards don't always get them.
But I'll watch Sunday night, or I'll DVR and watch on Monday, so please don't tell me what happens. Do you have any favorites that you hope will be winners?

Trying to summon up the strength to love you, but can't go as far as infinities,

Janie Junebug

Wednesday, February 18, 2015


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

It seems to me that before Garrison Keillor came to visit me we had established that Willy Dunne Wooters knew that Jimmy Fallon is good at impersonating musicians, and he sang with Neil Young and WDW had seen that.

I shoulda left it at that. But stupid me, I just had to say that my favorite Jimmy Fallon impersonation was of Jim Morrison singing the theme song from Reading Rainbow. I explained that Reading Rainbow was a show on PBS when my kids were growing up. It was about books. I looked up the video online and played it for the Wooters man:

I started the video. WDW said, Is that Jim Morrison?

No, I said. I already told you that it's Jimmy Fallon pretending to be Jim Morrison singing the theme song from a children's show called Reading Rainbow.

That's not Jim Morrison?

No. (My thought: I am going to get a butcher knife from the kitchen and stab you in the heart if you ask me that question one more time.)

That's Jimmy Fallon?

Yes. (My thought: I will let it go because it wasn't exactly the same question, but I'm still thinking about the shining blade on the butcher knife.)

Did Jim Morrison do that?

No, Jim Morrisn was dead before Reading Rainbow was on TV. (My thought: The butcher knife will make a very bloody mess. Maybe I should put down a tarp before I kill him. And instead of the butcher knife, what might bring about a quicker end? A gun? I don't know how to use a gun, and I am in favor of gun control. How can I be such a hypocrite that I would shoot my boyfriend with a gun? What about my sewing scissors? I remember that movie, I can't think of the title, but the man sends a guy to kill his wife, and she manages to stab him in the back with scissors and kill him. Nah. It's not that easy to kill somebody with scissors. Oh, Lord, help me, please.)

I try to change the subject a bit. I say, My favorite lines are when Jimmy Fallon sings "Goodnight, moon, Goodnight, stars."

Willy Dunne Wooters just looks at me with a Willy Dunne Wooters look on his face. He doesn't know what I'm talking about.

I explain: Good Night, Moon is a famous children's book. Jimmy Fallon uses a couple of lines in the song.

Did Jim Morrison do that?

No. Jim Morrison was dead when Reading Rainbow was on TV.

(My thought: Maybe I should kill myself instead of the Wooters man. Then someone else has to clean up the mess. I doubt if stabbing myself will work well. Hanging? Can I hang myself? No, I probably wouldn't break my neck. I'd asphyxiate, It would take forever.)

No, says WDW. I mean did Jim Morrison sing lines from children's books in his songs?

If I'd had a mirror to look in at that moment, I bet my face would have been purple.

No, I said. I don't know of a time when Jim Morrison sang lines from children's books in his songs.

He didn't sing lines from that children's book in any of his songs?

The lizard king
didn't sing songs
with lines from
children's books.

I feel pretty certain that's the way the words looked when they came out of my mouth. I start to think about Miss Junebug in the dining room with the candle stick. I think about forgetting that it would be hypocritical to buy a gun and use it to murder this man in the ballroom. I don't have to be Miss Junebug. I can be Col. Mustard and that lessens the hypocrisy.

WDW says, So Jim Morrison didn't sing anything from children's books?

I scream: Jim Morrison was the lizard king.
       Jim Morrison was the lizard king.
      Jim Morrison was the lizard king.

My mind is made up. I'm going to Wal-Mart for a gun and ammo.

Aw, don't get so upset, honey, says WDW. I know Jim Morrison was the lizard king. You just know so much more about these things than I do that I thought maybe he really sang that song.

No, Jim Morrison didn't sing that song.

Willy Dunne Wooters says, You seem tired. Why don't we go to bed? I'll rub your back till you feel better.


We take off our clothes and get in the bed and God is in His heaven, and all's right with the world. 

I forget about butcher knives and guns and sewing scissors until the next time I need them.

Willy Dunne Wooters rubs my back. Then he kisses my neck so softly while one hand slides around me to hold my right breast. Oh, yes. It's heaven.

Goodnight, moon. Goodnight, stars.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Earlier tonight, when it was still Tuesday, I dragged myself out of my sick bed (or if you're Andi Filante I drug myself out of my sick bed) because Favorite Young Man and I had tickets to see Garrison Keillor.

I love Garrison Keillor. Favorite Young Man loves Garrison Keillor.

I don't know if everyone loves Garrison Keillor. Please raise your hand if you love Garrison Keillor. If you don't love Garrison Keillor, then do you think it's a cultural thing? And by "cultural," I mean raised in the Midwest, Lutheran, morbid sense of humor, like jokes including risque.

A happy memory from Favorite Young Man's and The Hurricane's youth is that we listened to A Prairie Home Companion on Saturday evenings while we ate supper.

Then last night, the night before the show, I became ill (bad, bad tummy), and I haven't recovered completely. But I love G.K. and I spent $120 on those two tickets, and I wasn't letting a case of the shits diarrhea keep me from the man. It would be like flushing the 120 down the toilet with the you-know-what.

I managed to drink a little diet coke, and at 5 p.m. I ate some toast. It didn't cause much agony, so I decided to go, albeit with toilet paper stuffed up my arse in case of wet gas.

Garrison Keillor was not doing his radio show. He came out and sang and talked and told stories and jokes. The evening ended with a singalong. Many of the stories he told could be part of a Lake Wobegone newscast, but he didn't do The News From Lake Wobegone.

He started by singing a great song about dying someday and if he learns there's no God he will be pissed he wasn't an atheist.

He told a couple of jokes about Ole and Lena, whose names might as well be Lyle and Lois Goltz.

Ole is on his deathbed. He asks if Lena is here. Yes, of course. Is Sven here? Yes, everyone is here. Ole goes through some more names, asking if those people are here. The group assures him, We are all here. Ole says, Then why are the lights on in the living room?

If you don't get that, then I think you are too young, or you don't understand the kind of humor we Midwesterners tend to share.

Lena baked a rhubarb pie. Ole could smell it, and he wanted one last taste of rhubarb pie. So he crawls to the kitchen and gets out a knife and crawls to the pie. Lena comes up behind him and smacks him on the head and says, Leave that alone. It's for the funeral.

Oh, how I laughed. So did Favorite Young Man.

G.K. also said that no matter how bad things are, Midwesterners will always say, Well, it could be worse.

The show reached its charming conclusion. FYM and I headed out into the rain to walk to the car. FYM commented on how cold it was. Yah, I said, but it could be worse.

Then it occurred to me that I had done exactly what G.K. said I would do, so we laughed some more.

I told FYM I had such a great time that I might be in a good mood for ten or fifteen minutes.

Oh, but something happened that made me crazy. FYM dropped me off at the theater and went to park the car. I went in the building and turned to the right to get the tickets. When FYM came in he said that right after I got out of the car that Garrison Keillor walked by the car and went in the door to the theater. He was to the left of the car. I was to the right. I did not see him. Why does it matter? I saw him onstage. But it's fun to see celebrities get out of cars and act like regular people who stroll through the lobby.

I said to FYM, I love you unconditionally, but right now I am really fucking pissed off that you got to see Garrison Keillor walk into the building and I didn't. Really. Really pissed. BUT I LOVE YOU UNCONDITIONALLY.

I'm also upset because I wore the pink cashmere gloves I got for Christmas and I moved the garbage cans from their spot at the curb where the garbage men empty them back to their usual home in the backyard. When we got to the theater, I noticed that the palms and fingers of the gloves had turned black. Oi! Was I upset! I don't think I can get the black off. That's what happens when you look forward to Garrison Keillor and you hope you don't have diarrhea that ruins the whole thing and you're such a good citizen that you don't leave your garbage cans out at the curb.

And yes, I've already looked online, and I can't find the exact same gloves that have a matching pink hat.

II forgot to say that yes, he wore red tennis shoes. I wish my dad could have been there. He loved Garrison Keillor. We're just a family of Keillor lovers.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

I'll try to finish the story about Jimmy Kimmel, Jimmy Fallon, and Jim Morrison later today. It will depend on whether I have the strength to do anything when I get out of bed. And it's definitely WHEN I get out of bed and not IF I get out of bed because Franklin needs care.

Tuesday, February 17, 2015


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I hate to tell you this, but I don't think we'll finish this story today because I have been up all night with an unhappy tummy. I think I might have food poisoning. Thank God I didn't get sick until Willy Dunne Wooters and I had finished watching Better Call Saul and an episode of The Sopranos. 

Just so you know, we like Better Call Saul. It's well written and acted. I've seen The Sopranos before. It's my all-time favorite show. Willy Dunne Wooters' all time favorite show is still Breaking Bad, but it only took a few episodes for him to get interested in The Sopranos.

I disapprove of too much TV because it's a passive "activity," but it's not so passive when Willy Dunne Wooters and I watch together because we have such great discussions about the shows, though sometimes the discussions turn into arguments, but then we go to bed and have make-up sex. No make-up sex or sex of any other kind last night. Too sick. I sent Willy Dunne Wooters home, and Franklin took care of me.

Okay, to read the first part of this post about the confusion regarding Jimmies, please click HERE. I enjoyed your comments and the lively interactions we've had about Jimmy Fallon and Jimmy Kimmel.

After I convinced Willy Dunne Wooters that there are two Jimmies, I said, I think Jimmy Fallon is hilarious. I've never seen his show, but I've watched YouTube clips of games he plays with celebrities and I think it's really funny when he impersonates singers. He's so good when he does that.

Wait a minute, said Willy Dunne Wooters. Did Jimmy Fallon imitate Neil Young?

Why, yes, he did, said I. Here's the clip. When I started watching it, I thought it might actually be Neil Young.

Let's watch Jimmy Fallon and Neil Young now:

Jimmy Fallon can darn near out-Neil-Young Neil Young.

I realize we haven't gotten to Jim Morrison yet, so please don't keep asking about him. He's still dead. We'll get there eventually, and you can expect capital letters because I shouted at Willy Dunne Wooters for a while. I punched him on the arm, too, but I punch like a girl so it really hurt him a lot.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Monday, February 16, 2015


Dear Hearts and Gentle People,

This post will tell you the beginning of the story about my desire to murder Willy Dunne Wooters. I don't have time to tell you the entire story now.

Saturday evening I was looking at something online. WDW asked, Did you see that skit Jimmy Kimmel did about a Saved By The Bell Reunion?

I felt confused. Jimmy Kimmel?

I know someone did that skit, I said, because I saw it mentioned online, but I don't know who Jimmy Kimmel is.

He's one of those late-night talk show hosts.

I thought for a while, and then it hit me: JIMMY FALLON! I THINK YOU MEAN JIMMY FALLON!

Well, okay, said WDW, but then who is Jimmy Kimmel?

I don't know, but we'll find out right now, I assured him as I tapped away on my laptop.

Within seconds I said, Here's Jimmy Kimmel;

Jimmy Kimmel hosts a late-night talk show on ABC, I explained.

Then who is Jimmy Fallon? was the next, inevitable question.

I'm pretty sure he took over The Tonight Show when Jay Leno left, I said. He used to be on SNL. Sometimes I see clips from his show. They're really funny. I never saw Saved By The Bell, so it doesn't mean anything to me, but I saw that the skit was online. I didn't bother to watch it.

WDW said: Jimmy Kimmel. Jimmy Fallon. Are you sure there are two Jimmies?

I tapped a little more and said, Here's Jimmy Fallon:

So that's Jimmy Fallon, WDW said.

He used to be on SNL, WDW said.

And now he's on the Tonight show, WDW said.

Yes, I said.

WDW said, Do you mean to tell me there are two guys named Jimmy and they both have dark hair and they both host late-night TV shows? They even look a lot alike.

The truth is I didn't see that much of a resemblance other than dark hair (it's kind of like saying everyone of the same race looks alike), but I know better than to argue so I said, Yes, there are two guys named Jimmy and they both have dark hair and they both host late night TV show and they look a lot alike.

I put that shit crap garbage opinion about them looking alike in tiny, highlighted print because I still don't think that having dark hair means they look a lot alike. Besides, I don't know who Jimmy Kimmel is, but I know who Jimmy Fallon is. I think he's funny. I've never watched his show, but the clips I see online are hilarious.

WDW said, Do you mean to tell me there really are two guys with dark hair named Jimmy who host late-night TV shows?

I showed him their photos again, and I said again, I've never seen Jimmy Kimmel, but I think Jimmy Fallon is funny.

Okay, that's all for now, but you can see where this is headed, right? It's headed toward a straitjacket for me.

Infinities of love,
Janie Junebug

to be continued

Saturday, February 14, 2015


It's V-Day.

Take back your vagina.

Be aware of increasing sexually related crimes committed against women.

It will soon become a tsunami.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015


I have decided to become a performance artist.

Anybody have scissors? Don't slip and get a nip.

And of course, you must moo with me.

Now that I'm a performance artist, I must change my name.

Infinities of love,

Adele Dazeem

Monday, February 9, 2015


Lady Mary exited her room,
saw Edith and said,
My sister, I presume?
Why must you look so ghastly?
You always seem ashamed.
If you were more as I am
we wouldn't have you to blame.

You knew I'd marry Patrick
so you made him your pal.
Played hide-and-seek and tiddly winks
behind our backs, even climbed the trees.
No one really cared.
No one noticed where you were,
while I learned to walk as if floating on air.

You thought you'd somehow steal him.
At the altar you would stand.
I can tell you no such thing would have happened.
It wasn't part of the plan.
Granny saw your scheme
and told me to ignore you.
I felt quite pleased to comply.
As far as I was concerned, you could simply curl up and die.

Anna, bring out my tiara.
I'll need it for tonight.
The one with the largest diamond
that is called the Crawley stone.
Suitors will be coming.
I have money and a name.
I'm happy I married Matthew.
Nothing will ever be the same.

Now here we are, it's Saturday morning.
I'm not sure why I left my bed.
Anna will bring my breakfast
of toasted, warm bread.
I suppose the truth is I come to the hall
to watch you, Edith,
to watch your back as you walk down the stairs,

The spinster eating breakfast in the dining room,
that is my comedy and your doom.
If Patrick were to return now
and you should turn his head,
it wouldn't matter anyway.
He no longer has a claim.
He is considered dead.

So I shall be the countess.
Downton will be mine.
Matthew was a sweet husband.
He gave me little George,
but even better he gave me my estate
where nothing will ever, ever be yours.

Friday, February 6, 2015



Hi, Every Buddy! It's me, Franklin the Bordernese, and I'm sure to please. I've had a problem come up with Mom. I need you all to help me out.

The first thing that happened is really cool. Willy Dunne Wooters taught me how to drive his red 'stang. I dunno what 'stang means, but I learned how to drive his car.

It's a little bit hard to see me in this first picture, but I'm at the round thingy I turn to make the car turn. It's not so hard to do.

Don't tell, but sometimes when I see a cat in the street I go a little faster. I would never hurt a cat, but sometimes I thinks about it.

Here's a picture where you can see me better in the car:

I'm pretty dang good lookin', isn't I?

But now I have to tell you about the problem. I was sitting in the car, figuring out all the knobs and dials, and I looked up and Mom had come outside. I thought she was there to admire my driving skills. I smiled at her, but she didn't come over to the car to hug and kiss me.

She walked right up to Willy Dunne Wooters and put her arms around him and started kissin' on him. She kissed his cheek and his neck and she even kissed his mouth, which was enough to make me think I might throw up my kibble.

AND Willy Dunne Wooters seemed to like it that Mom was kissin' on him. He didn't look like he was gonna throw up his kibble.

I think I have a romance on my paws.

Here's the big question: Should I have Mom fixed, or should I have Willy Dunne Wooters fixed, or should I have both of them fixed? I understand you might not wanna think about this very personal and intimate stuff, but I needs your help.

Okay I love you bye bye.

Franklin the Bordernese

Thursday, February 5, 2015


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

MOVIE WEEKEND is a tiny bit ticked about giving up its place today, but it understands that Valentine's Day will be here soon. If you don't celebrate V-Day, and that's cool with me, then maybe you have an Etsy gift certificate you got for Christmas and you're ready to use it. Or you might need a gift for someone, or you might need a gift for you.

Therefore and whatsoever art thou, today we are talkin' Kate LeDonne and her etsy shop, Enchanted Garden. One bad thing about Kate's handmade items is that they are hard to resist. The good thing is that they are reasonably priced, and with a purchase of $10 or more, you can use the code VALENTINE2015 to get ten percent off your order.

I can attest to the quality of Kate's work because I happen to have some LeDonne originals. In this photo you can see two pairs of earrings and a necklace. The bottoms of the earrings brush against my shoulders. I don't care how old I am. When I wear this jewelry, I ROCK:

I get a ton of compliments everywhere I go when I wear jewelry made by Kate.

The jewelry also comes so beautifully packaged that I don't think I'd care if the box had nothing in it. Look! This box has a junebug, especially for moi, and it has crowns because Kate recognizes royalty when she sees it (reminder: I am Your Queen of Grammar):

I love Kate. I love jewelry. I love Kate's jewelry. I love shopping online from an etsy shop because if I wanna shop naked, I shop naked.

Franklin is pleased with the discount, too:

He's relaxed because he knows I won't spend the kibble money on jewelry.

It just occurred to me that when I wrote V-Day at the beginning of this post that the most obvious reference was to Valentine's Day, but maybe I meant Vagina Day.

I've been watching a DVD of Eve Ensler's performance in The Vagina Monologues. I betcha Eve would like Kate's jewelry, too. Kate, me, Eve Ensler––what can I saw? We are the cool chicks. You can be a cool chick, too, or save loved ones from nerd-dom.

So 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . SHOP    Enchanted Garden

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P.S. I just looked at Kate's shop again. I don't think I can resist this necklace:

And I'm not so sure I can live without this necklace that has a doggy charm:

Kate has necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and original artwork. Enjoy!

Wednesday, February 4, 2015



You live in me.
I opened my Self to you many years ago.
I invited you in, delighted that your RSVP was an enthusiastic yes.

We quickly became lovers without love.
Perhaps our relationship would be better described as symbiotic.
The thing is I don't know if you feed off of me, or if I feed off of you.

I guess it doesn't matter as long as we stay together.
I'm willing to give you up, to go it alone, but you won't leave.
No matter how often I'm accused of being you, we are one because you want it that way.

If I went into the woods, as Gretel not even with Hansel, you would find me.
You know that without you I would no longer be complete.
I would be artistically anorexic.

I need you.
You need me.


Tuesday, February 3, 2015


I said I wouldn't blog today, dear friends, because I must edit, but I changed my mind. I have to take a couple of minutes to thank you for your response to yesterday's post, which you can read HERE.

I've been pretty darn excited about communicating with Joyce Maynard, who is a very successful author, and I've been even more excited that the fund for Rosa's education has grown so quickly.

I didn't expect any of you to donate to the fund, but some of you have. That's so cool! Look at all the love we spread around the world.

And if you didn't donate, that's fine, too, because no one tried to ruin the joy of the moment.

Willy Dunne Wooters has something to add:

Monday, February 2, 2015


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Did you survive last night's Stupor Bowl? It's not something I watch.

However, I have a new book for my special shelf that houses first editions and/or autographed books. I'm now the happy owner of Labor Day by Joyce Maynard:

Here's the autograph:

It says

for Janie
with undying faith in the
power of love. And with

Then she signed her name and drew a little sketch of a woman.

I've read two books by Joyce Maynard: To Die For is loosely based on the Pamela Smart case and was made into a movie starring Nicole Kidman; and At Home In The World, Joyce's memoir.

I watched the movie of Labor Day, which stars Kate Winslet and Josh Brolin. To read my review of the film, click HERE. The movie made me want to read the book.

I didn't obtain this book with the lovely inscription at a signing. Instead, for some reason I can't remember, I looked up Joyce Maynard's Facebook page not long ago. I thought, What the hell?, and sent her a Friend request. She accepted it. I don't know why.

Then I saw a Facebook post from Joyce about Guatemala, where she visits often and has a home. On Christmas Day, 2001, she met a five-year-old named Rosa. Joyce and Rosa became fast friends. Rosa was serious about going to school and studying, but she was the youngest child in a very poor family. Joyce helped fund Rosa's education.

Two years ago, Rosa enrolled in a pre-med program. She has one year left. The people who helped with most of her expenses are not able to do so this year, and Joyce can't take on the total cost herself. She turned to her Facebook friends for help, and offered the gift of a book for a certain level of donation. I give to one charity or more every month. I felt delighted to help Rosa and receive an autographed book.

I had a lovely exchange with Joyce on Facebook, promised that Labor Day would cuddle up to my autographed book of Robert Frost's poems, and made my donation at, specifying that the gift was for Joyce Maynard's Rosa fund. I received Labor Day shortly thereafter.

Joyce announced on January 27th that the "Rosa fund" has raised $10,000. 

If you like, you can help Rosa, or assist with other needs in Guatemala, through Miracles In Action at You can read Joyce's post about Rosa at

It feels so good to help.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P.S. I won't post on my blog for a couple of days, and I apologize, but my visits to your blogs will be limited. I must spend more time editing.