Why I'm Not On Twitter.

I'm sure there are some people out there who are not the least bit pleased that The Mister bought me a phone with a full keyboard not too long ago.
Back when I had to use the number buttons to spell out words I had to feel really strongly about the message I was sending. It took a long time to spell out what I wanted to express as I tend to be, well, quite wordy.

The fact that I now have a full keyboard means that I have the ability to really harass the crap out of people.

The other night The Mister made the comparison that I was not unlike Matt Damon's character in Good Will Hunting. The only really difference between myself and Will is that my genius lends itself to words, not numbers.
We're, me and " Will ", both extreme cases of MassHoles. Peace, Love, Go Fuck Yourself and say Hi to your Mother for me.

At any rate, my friend Anthony sent me a link to his band's website. They're having a show this weekend and the email included the deets of the show. I've been somewhat remiss as a friend as Anthony has invited me to many a show, but I've yet to attend one.

Hey Anthony, STOP HAVING SHOWS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT !

Just kidding !

It is the intent of The Mister and I to attend the show this weekend.

And just so y'all know, Anthony was " in tha hizzous " when The Mister drank himself into a stupor on Bushmills and passed out on the porch.

I cruised the band's site for a bit and further went on to discover that his band is on Rhapsody.

Needless to say, I was duly impressed.

So I shot Anthony a text;

Me: HOLY FUCK ! Your ass is on Rhapsody ! HOLY FUCK !

And I got a response;

Anthony: Is it just my ass ?! I could have sworn my balls were on there too.

And so on and so forth;

Me: Turkey.

Anthony: What ?

Me: You're a turkey.

Anthony: I love turkey. Why am I a turkey ?

Me: Please don't take my referring to you as domesticated poultry as an insult. Ben Franklin felt very strongly that the turkey should have been our national symbol. I was merely implying that your comment regarding your balls being on Rhapsody was in a manner of speaking, quite silly.
I was genuinely impressed that that you have your music published on a national music service. You should have recognized my impressedness with the capitalization and use of exclamation points with regard to the repeated use of the word FUCK.

Anthony: That was the best txt message ever. Thank u for being so impressed. I forgot about the balls thing :-) but they recorded a duo record that I swore was on there..... oh, and we're on iTunes too !

Me: When you say " we're " on iTunes do you mean you and your band mates or you and your genitalia ? If your ass and balls ever decided to do a cover tune perhaps they might want to consider " Stuck In The Middle With You " by Stealer's Wheel.

Anthony: I just lol'd really loudly. I'll run that suggestion by the " boys ".

Me: You know I'm going to turn this entire exchange into a blog post.


If there was a PhD in Wiseass - I'd be Stephen Hawking.

XO
Bunny

This Year's Hottest Christmas Toy - Jailbird Elmo.

Do you recall me sharing with you that I had spent the first weekend of October in NYC with my best-est ( we'll try spelling it with a hyphen this time....) cousin Steph and her shall-remain-nameless daughter ?

Yeah ? We all on the same page ?
Ok then. On with the story.

Let me set the scene for y'all.....

On our last collective night in the city we went to dinner at a very seen-and-be-seen restaurant in The Village. Dinner was fabulous. The service was superb. I have nothing but wonderful things to say about this particular restaurant.....I'm kissing my fingers like some sort of stereotyped portly Italian chef in a crappy, late 80's Disney movie here........ MWAH !

At any rate, as she had been feeling out the increasing independence that comes with turning the big 1-6 over the course of the weekend, Nameless requested that she be allowed to hail a cab ( on her own ) in order for the three of us to return back to our hotel. Mom of course says " Go for it ! " and lo and behold the very first cab pulls over to whisk us back to Midtown. Beginner's Luck.

The previous day, after Nameless and I had decided that we were SO DONE with walking, we'd decided to get a cab back to the hotel rather than walk the 30-something blocks from Union Square back to Midtown. Mom didn't protest the cab plan and did her part to aide in the cab hailing. Although she did claim that she was totally prepared to walk the 30-something blocks back to the hotel. She felt fine and it was a lovely day. Really, I'm convinced she was a Sherpa in a past life.

Me ? I'm convinced I was an eccentric, European millionairess with multiple small, yapping dogs who is perpetually wardrobed in a colorful caftan, does the double cheek kiss and can't be bothered to learn people's names so she refers to everyone as " Dahling " in a past life.

But I digress.

No cab stopped despite my standing halfway into the street. Time to hatch Plan B. Not sure if Nameless saw me do this or not, but I unzipped my hoodie to show the girls off in order to expedite the cab hailing process. Hey, don't judge ok ? We were desperate and needed the money...I mean a cab. Eventually a cab did pull over and an uneventful ride to Midtown ensued.

So by the night in question Nameless had seen her Mom and myself hail a cab or two and felt that she had the routine down.

Where was I ????
Oh yeah, uneventful cab ride back to Midtown......

Which is exactly the kind of cab ride one wants to have in Manhattan. Uneventful. Boring even.
If you ask someone how their cab ride was and they start out by saying " Hoo Boy !! LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE CAB RIDE ! " those stories never end well. It usually ends with someone saying " And then the cops showed up..."

^ Major foreshadowing there ^

So after our lovely dinner on our last collective night in the city we had an uneventful, boring even, cab ride back to the hotel. Sometime during this ride, me in my still buzzed from two screwdrivers on a mostly empty stomach state decided that I needed some chocolate. And I decided Nameless was going to be my accomplice in the procurement of said chocolate.

Our hotel was not two blocks from Times Square. And for those not familiar Times Square, like a hooker's legs, never closes.

We, Steph, Nameless and I, had taken a spin around Times Square two nights before so Nameless was well aware that there was both a Hershey and M&M's store in Times Square.
Mom walked with us to the corner and bid us " farewell " as she had decided that she's had enough fun for one day and would not be joining us on our sojourn to Times Sq.

Nameless and I trotted off to TS to acquire chocolate.

Nameless is a lovely, energetic, charismatic young lady who walks in practically a skip. She bounds down the street all lovely and whatnot, her hair bouncing along with a mind of its own. She largely resembles a young Farrah Fawcett. I had to fight the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and command that she " STAY AWAY FROM THAT FREAK RYAN O'NEAL ! HE'S NOTHING BUT TROUBLE ! "
But I knew that would have ended with her giving me that puzzled yet concerned look I get from most of my coworkers and would have elicited Nameless sheepishly asking " Umm....who's Ryan O'Neal ? "

::::::sigh::::::::

Ok, back to the chocolate and Times Sq.

Earlier at dinner I was trying my damnedest to be my very best well behaved self ( I'd been warned by The Mister to " Behave " as I boarded the bus to NYC. Which is an entire blog post unto itself ). Over the course of the entire weekend I'd recalled countless, off-color anecdotes that I wanted to share with Steph and I'd begin to giggle and open my mouth to relate the anecdote, but then remember that I was in the presence of Nameless. So I'd self censor and keep the anecdote to myself.

For nearly three solid days I would laugh, open my mouth, sigh with disappointment and shut my mouth again.
I'm sure people passing me on the street must have thought I was mentally ill.

As I was saying, I was trying my damnedest to behave myself during dinner. However after two screwdrivers all bets are off. I began to relate my funniest of funny anecdotes from the past year. Sort of a Best Of Bunny & The Mister, if you will. This particular anecdote was a pretty lengthy one that involved my Grandmother receiving hospice care, my sister calling me crying and The Mister drunk in the ball pit at McDonald's and then The Mister drunk verbally abusing my sister while perched on the hood of her car.

Nameless listened intently as I told my tale of drunk debauchery in McDonald's. She was as if she'd discovered Real Sex on HBO after Mom and Dad had long gone to sleep. Like she knew that this, the entirely true stories of two drunk Gen-X DINKs with a serious Oreo habit, was something she should not be paying attention to. But somehow the luridness in my recounting of the events of that evening was something she could not tear herself away from.

I think she was secretly happy to be trotting off to Times Square with someone other than her Mom. Especially since she's seen me in the new light of one of my " Best Of " anecdotes.

I know, I know. Chocolate. Times Square. I'm getting there.

Nameless was under the impression that we were heading back for either the Hershey or M&M store....but I felt that this was a good time to impart a little economics lesson. Which was, those of us with jobs and bills who have to spend our own money on chocolate go to Walgreen's to buy Reese's Peanut butter cups for 3 for $2, rather than spend $2.50 for one package at the Hershey's store.

And yes, in case you were wondering, there is a Times Sq. Walgreen's and yes, I purchased a round of RPB Cups. One for me, one for Nameless and one for Steph.

But before we even made it to Walgreen's we ran into.......GASP.......ELMO ! HOLY CRAP ! IT WAS ELMO ! RIGHT.IN.TIMES.SQUARE !

Nameless decided the a nice end of the sentence to her weekend in NYC was to have her picture taken with Elmo. For some reason she decided that I was the adult in charge in this particular situation and asked me if it would be alright if she got her picture taken with the Red Furry One.
And in my head I was all like " Why the flip are you asking my permission ?? "



I guess I am so used to my sweet Emmsie, who is sweet ( when she wants to be ), but has that surly, snarky exterior that scares ice road truckers, longshoremen and the occasional Hell's Angel.
Had Nameless and Emmsie somehow gone all Parent Trap on me in that exact moment I would have totally caught onto the whole switcharoo as Emmsie would have thrown the camera at me an told me to take her picture. Like, do it now. I'm not asking you again. That's even if she had the inclination to get her picture taken with Elmo in the first place. Realistically I think she would have walked past him and told Elmo what a pathetic loser he was and to get a real job.

I tell Nameless that it would be my pleasure to take her picture with Elmo. As she waited for Ricky and Bobbie-Lee from Omaha to finish up with Elmo Nameless notices that people are handing Elmo a dollar or two as a tip.
She expresses her concern to me that she's only in possession of bills far too large to tip Elmo. I tell her not to worry, that I, the adult in charge **snicker** ,will give her a dollar for proper compensation of future photographic acquisitions.

Nameless sees it is her turn to snuggle up to Elmo and smile big for the camera. Two quick flashes we were in possession of two stupendous pics of Nameless and Elmo.
Nameless, with her signature skip, came bouncing the twelve feet or so back to me to deposit the camera back into the camera bag while I dig around in my snazzy clutch for the promised dollar.
Camera neatly tucked away and dollar in hand Nameless skips back to a spot about half way between myself and Elmo.

She freezes when she sees that two of the NYPD's finest are questioning Elmo. Whom at this point has removed his head piece and I'm now sure Elmo's name is probably Jamal.

Nameless is still frozen with panic. I could tell she was using her precious, now 16 powers of reasoning and abstract thought to decide what her course of action should be.

She looked to Elmo/Jamal with cops and then back to me. Then to Elmo/Jamal with cops and then back to me. And again and again and again.
I thought the poor thing was gonna get whiplash.
As her reasoning and abstract thought skills are relatively new I decided to let her " cheat off my paper " and help her out.
I called her name in a loud whisper and motioned for her to come back to me. Time to impart another important lesson to Nameless;

When the cops show up you make like a tree and leave. Quietly and without drawing attention to yourself.

We eventually found our way back to the hotel where Nameless showed off our "free" pictures with she and Elmo to Mom.
Mom was quite impressed with the quality of the pictures and expressed that perhaps they were the best of the trip.

Then Nameless uttered the words that every parent wants to hear;

" Yeah, and then the Cops showed up ! "


XOXO
Bunny

Easier Said Than Done.

Look at one person who annoys you, and use the opportunity to counter your own anger and cultivate compassion.

This post as been brought to you by His Holiness The Dalai Lama via his Twitter page.

I'll leave you all to contemplate this and how it might be applicable to your existence.

Happy Columbus Day and Canadian Thanksgiving Everyone !

XO

Bunny

P.S. Had to turn the heat on for the first time today. 58 degrees in the house when I got up this morning. BRRRR !

I'm Not Entirely Sure...But,

I'm getting the feeling that my cats are under the impression that I purchase furniture solely for their collective comfort and enjoyment.

It seems to me that they think that The Mister and I's bed is really theirs and they are so gracious enough to let us sleep there at night.

If The Mister and I and our cats were ever to divorce the thought did cross my mind that Equatable Division Of The Assets would end with the cats being homeowners and The Mister and I living in an old refrigerator box under an overpass somewhere.

I was in HomeGoods yesterday (not ashamed to admit ) cruising through the clearance racks.
I found a throw pillow that read " Dogs Have Owners, Cats Have Stuff ".
It was supposed to read " Dogs Have Owners, Cats Have Staff. "

It would have been an entirely true statement and perhaps might have not had a permanent home on the clearance rack at HomeGoods had the poor embroidery machine operator somewhere in Vietnam not been illiterate.

Yep, my cats have Stuff alright, it just all happens to be mine.
My cats don't have Staff though. They have bitches. Me and The Mister.

XOXOXO
Bunny

Retro Music Friday.

I've been trying to read this book for damn near six months. I started to read it in June when I was on a two week hiatus. I got through the first couple of chapters, but then the shit started to get deep. " The Shit " meaning the subject matter of the book. Deep I'm telling you. Like when you look down a well and you're a little unnerved because you're unable to see the bottom, even in broad daylight.

I had to put to book down. Should I have tried to slog through it I risked my poor brain, or what is left of it, putting up a hell of a protest and oozing out of me ears like lumpy, maple spice flavored instant oatmeal.
My brain, had it had the ability to speak to me should I kept on reading, would have been like;

Listen Lady, you know what ? We've got nowhere to put deep, philosophical shit of this magnitude.
Sadly you've filled me up with a laundry list of phone numbers, Tom Petty song lyrics, stupid knock-knock jokes and.....and.....and...OH MY GOD WOMAN ! You really are nuts, you know that ? You wanna read this book and absorb it ? Clean out the closets ! Some of this stuff needs to go. How 'bout the names of your elementary school gym teachers ? Why don't we start there ? You really don't need that bit of information anymore.

So the book has been sitting on the back of my toilet for a while now. I look at it when I'm in the bathroom and feel like a wee bit of a failure that I've started it but have since been unable to finish it.
I often contemplate removing it from the bathroom and putting back on my bookshelf.
But for some reason I am unable to do so.
Maybe doing so would be admitting defeat on my part.

In my defense it is really a difficult read. Not literarically speaking, but as I have said, philosophically speaking.
One really needs to be in the proper frame of mind to read it, it's really not " bathroom reading ", meaning that you really need to pay attention. And paying attention is not one of my stronger points.
So far the only appropriate place to read this book, that I can surmise so far, is in an isolation chamber of total darkness - a spelunking helmet being ones only source of light.

As I am not in possession of either A) an isolation chamber or B) a spelunking helmet, the book continues to sit on the back of my toilet.

If I were to ask myself " What Would Zen Darrell Do ? " he'd probably tell me that " Universally Speaking " I am not ready to absorb the contents of the book and that when " The Student Is Ready The Teacher Will Appear ".

So, " Universally Speaking " the book will reside in my upstairs bath until further notice.

Ok, onto RMF.

I was in New York last weekend visiting my best-est cousin Steph and her super lovely, shall-remain-nameless daughter. We had a wonderful time. New York in the fall is fantastic. I highly recommend it.

As tends to happen with me, as I am the Pied Piper of Crazy, I had not been in the city for more than three hours before some random suit on the street complemented my ass - in not so many words - but I knew what he was getting at.

That was merely the first in a series of odd, sexually harassing incidents.

As my a$$ seems to have a fan club ( you think I'm kidding ?? ), here is Rumpshaker by Wreckx-N-Effect.

1992, I was sixteen and a sophomores in HS.

Have a lovely weekend !

XO

Bunny

P.S. Upon spell checking this post the word " bestest "( used to describe Steph ) came up as a misspelled word. One of the alternative suggestions it gave me was " Bustiest ".

Why People Hate Americans.

This post has been brought to you PEOPLEOFWALMART.COM

I could not make this shit up. I do not own Photoshop software. I found these pic as they are shown at PEOPLEOFWALMART.COM

I've typed PEOPLEOFWALMART.COM three times now. That means that you should all go over to PEOPLEOFWALMART.COM RIGHT NOW and take a look-see.

There are people who happen to be related to myself that expressed their displeasure at the increasing population of illegal immigrants whom call the good ol' U.S of A home.

Take a look peeps...... take a gander at PEOPLEOFWALMART.COM

98 % of the folks pictured on this site are red blooded American citizens. It seems to me that there is nary an illegal amongst them.

In case you were wondering, there is no WalMart in France. Or Italy. Or Russia. Germany, Poland, Iceland, Norway, Fiji, Australia boast no WalMart either. Iran, Egypt, South Africa, Luxembourg and Monaco. Nope, Nope, Nope, Nope and Nope.

The Bahamas, Finland, Greece, Turkey, Belgium, Belarus, Austria, Hungary, South Korea and Romania. You want a WalMart ? Tough shit.

I guess they just do not have a need for Vanilla Ice CDs and 10 packs of BVDs in any of those places.

For a list of the " International " WalMarts, CLICK HERE.

Yep, even America's ball cap Canada has a white trash population ( sorry Mumbles....).

For even more proof that American is,in fact, filled to the brim with the creme of the crop of Mensa candidates, CLICK HERE.

Oy Vey.

XOXO

Bunny

Retro Music Friday - Return Of The Parrot.

My favorite client " Parrot " returned from her summer vacation a few weeks ago. She happens to be....I really feel guilty saying this.....my favorite client. I shouldn't have favorites, but I do. Parrot, according to others, seems to feel as if I've hung the moon so to speak takes everything I say as.....well, her mother calls it " The gospel according to Bunny ".

Perhaps that is why she's my favorite. She does what I instruct her to do and never makes a fuss of any sort. Ever. Never nags me, makes be bribe her to get rid of unicorns or has any of the usual passive aggressive BS that many of our other clients have.

The one downside...well, maybe not downside, but...oh, I don't know.....caveat perhaps, is that she is one of our lower functioning clients. I cannot drop her on a street corner and tell her I'll see her next week as I can with others. I cannot let her pay for a cup of coffee without supervision. She requires at least a peripheral eye on her at all times. So, no BS, but I have to watch her all the time. A fair trade off, I think.

However as I have stated previously, she repeats everything I say. It can be pretty funny having your own words boomerang back at you channeled by someone with the mental capacity of a four-year old.

Earlier in the week I had taken her shopping at the newest LL Bean store in the area for some new threads. Upon exiting the parking lot there happened to be a half dozen or so middle aged men protesting LL Bean. They stand on the sidewalk and attempt to pass out flyers with regard to Bean's clothing being manufactured in sweatshops. I'm all for a good, old fashioned protest as free speech and the right to assemble ( although I think this one has more to do with religious gatherings, it could pertain to the Viagra poppers on the sidewalk too ) are our basic rights as Americans. However, it is annoying. A.Noy.Ing. They've been there for weeks. And I'm all Dude, I get it. Sweatshops. Child labor. Unfair wages. I get it. You don't need to tell me again. Shouldn't you all be sitting in McDonald's drinking coffee or something ?

At any rate, Parrot and I were exiting the parking lot, being held hostage by a red light, with the protesting Viagra poppers on the sidewalk not six feet from our car. As it was a nice day I had put Parrot's window down for some fresh air. But upon pulling up to the red light I rolled her window up ( power windows ) as I didn't want her to have to deal with these guys. She lacks the capacity to understand what they'd try to tell her and as I had no idea what the content of the flyer was I didn't want to subject her to anything that, again, she'd not have the capacity to understand and/or may traumatize her.

As the window closed I said, mostly to myself, " Geez, these guys need to quit standing on the sidewalk and get a job...."

I didn't think she heard me as, again, I was mostly talking to myself....

" Yeah, like these guys need to get a job. And like, quit standing on the sidewalk. I don't want your papers ! I'm not interested. No thank you. And stop standing on the sidewalk ! "

Cue the uncontrollable snickering on my part.

Fast forward to yesterday to the drive thru line at McDonald's.....I know what I said about " Diet Rehab " I know. I KNOW ! I was starving and desperate......... I ordered the Crispy Chicken meal, which I believe is the #7. Parrot was in the passenger's seat next to me and of course repeated what I had ordered;

" Oh, oh, Bunny ordered the Greasy Chicken sandwich. Oh, and like a diet coke and an, an, an apple pie. "

I ordered the #7 - the " Crispy Chicken ", but Parrot heard " Greasy Chicken ".

Reality Bites, doesn't it ?

And yes, it was an Apple Pie from McDonald's kind of day yesterday.

I used to think that most of life's problems could be solved with sex and alcohol, but I have since amended this.....most of life's problems can be solved with sex, alcohol and apple pie from McDonald's.

Ok, onto RMF.

I have a confession to make. You are all going to be totally shocked......that was sarcasm in case you couldn't tell......

I love New Kids On The Block. I do. Like, I luuuuuvvvvv the fact that they reunited briefly. It filled me with an unrestrained glee that is nearly impossible for me to contain - I feel like my twelve year old self again.

I realize that I have made it seem that my interest in them is of the " passing fancy " sort.......but I'm coming clean here.

I love New Kids On The Block. I have their new CD in my car and listen to it frequently. Although I hide it when I happen to have a friend in the car. I feel as if I have to hide my deep affection for Donnie, Danny, Jordan, Jonathan and Joe like it's my deepest, darkest secret.

I'm not a cutter, a klepto, a nympho, I don't do illegal drugs, I've never cheated on my spouse, I've never even cut the tags off my mattress.

I love New Kids On The Block.

But I am not going to subject any of you to a NKOTB video. Instead I give you........

Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch.

This would be Mark Wahlberg, brother of Donnie Wahlberg, circa 1991. I believe this song was produced by Donnie.

I was 15 and a sophmore in HS when this came out.

Enjoy.

XOXOXO

Bunny