What kind of John Cusack Are You?

Well, I have written about my feelings for John Cusack before (mainly when Identity first came out) and now, courtesy of The Black Saint (who recently linked to us so we send him much thanks and many spiritual martinis), I found out what kind of John Cusack I am.


Which John Cusack Are You?

Although I agree that I am compassionate, inquisitive, and damn hot in a tux (or would be if I had one) I think Kelso is one of the more boring John Cusack characters. Although I'm glad I didn't come back as Martin Blank. Oh yeah the fun never stops here on Saturday night at Bunniblog.
Bad Bunni Gets in Trouble

Well it seems I have found yet another way to get into trouble. By the way, JB has not called. So I am thinking he knows its over or, like some other people, he managed to find my website, as most people know my nickname. And this is of course creating problems as someone I went on one date with two weeks ago just happened to find my blog. He assured me he wasn't looking for it. Do I sound convinced? That's because I'm not. Now here's the interesting thing, although he knew I had a blog, I made a point of NOT telling him the address of the blog. So what does he do when he just happens across my blog? He reads it. Well, he got what he paid for. I was no longer interested, but now he gets to know exactly how uninterested I was. Does it not occur to people that when I don't give them the address of my blog, it might be to protect them? Would I be broadcasting my ideas out here in the cyberspace if I was embarassed about what I think? No, I'm trying to help you out by not giving you the address. So please help me to help you.

Friday Night Date

Cute guy, very smart, ended up partying until dawn with some other cool people. Reminded me of what it was like when I was in college. It was great. I feel better. Faith restored. PRAISE THE LORD I HAD A GOOD DATE WITH SOMEONE I MET THROUGH MATE.COM. Don't believe it? I don't either, but I was there and it happened. Of course, I don't know if I am ever going to hear from this guy again. But what the hell, had a good time. Isn't that enough? No, but we are going to pretend that it is.

Also I am pleased to report that I got quality snuggling. He also a very good kisser. So Hurray for Me!

I had a couple of options for tonight, but my uterus is trying to defect from my body so I am attached to my heating pad. If you love me, send chocolate. Hot chocolate would be best.

"Sex and Death. Two things that come once in a lifetime, but at least after death, you don't get that nauseous feeling." -Woody Allen in Sleeper

Welcome and Bienvenu....Welcome

First I would like to welcome the The Black Saint and Right By Popular Demand to Bunniblog. (Bad Bunni runs around waving her arms much like Kermit the Frog in the Muppet Show.) Just so you all can't say that we here at Bunniblog aren't supportive and grateful to our fans or at least the people who nod at us from a distance in public. (The us in that sentence being my cat, who honestly could care less about this blog, but since she spent last night literally trying to climb the wall, let's just say that good judgement has never been her strong suit, so we include her without her consent.)

Brushes With Fame

So I got Immed today by none other than Ari of Ari Goes Down. I've been reading her blog for about three months and only recently I've finally gotten my act together and started shouting out at her site. (I am strangely shy about these things.) And tonight before walking her dog, she immed me (she shouted out to yesterday's entry as well). I was so excited, I nearly spit out my iced tea all over my keyboard. Not only did she im me, but she invited me to hang with some other bloggers in the neighborhood in two weeks. Unfortunately I can't because I will be out on the boat-hopefully being fanned by a gaggle of men (how many men in a gaggle? what should a group of men be called? a den? a hank? a crotch? I kind of like that "Hey look at that there crotch of men over there.") And so I am feeling all warm and snuggly knowing perhaps all the effort I put into Bunniblog is not completely wasted.

Mate.com Update and Casual Dating From Romania

The aforementioned Ari had a wonderful treatise today on the evil men she met through online dating. I would like to second her objection. I think that I have basically just met the same ten sleazy guys (albeit sleazy in different ways) in different bodies. Like there is some sort of scum body swap somewhere. Or maybe its just that there isn't much variety when it comes to be scuzzy. But today I hit an all time low when a 60 YEAR OLD MAN EXPRESSED INTEREST IN ME. Let me say that again because my father, if he was alive (and this might have killed him, or at the very least given him a mild heart attack) would have been only 64. This guy is way closer to my father's age than to my own. He would have had a better shot with my mother. And this guy was also a Jewish doctor, which means if my father wasn't dead, I would suspect it was my father. (Tell me that wouldn't be the online dating story to end all online dating stories, one of your parents sending you an email through date or match. I honestly don't think I would ever stop throwing up if that happened.)

And what the hell is with these guys contact me not just from other states, but other countries, just looking for a casual relationship? I got an email today from a guy in Bucarest (his spelling, not mine) looking for a casual relationship. A few days ago I got a similar email from a guy in South Carolina. Do you really think I am going to make travel plans to have a fling? People, I don't even have to leave the building for a casual relationship. On the other hand, I also got an email today from a 21 yr old living in India, whose endearing email (which so disgusted me that I immediately erased it without realizing its potential value here at the blog) that he didn't care who I was, how old I am, whether I am divorced or single. All he cared about was that I was a childless American woman who was ready to immediately engage in conjugal bliss. Be still my beating heart. It reminded me of the old Tom Lehrer joke "Recently I received a letter that said 'Darling I love you, marry me or I'll kill myself.' Well, I was very concerned until I looked at the envelope and realized it was addressed to 'Occupant.'"


And not to be bitchy or tarty (too late) but when did "a couple of extra pounds" come to mean sixty or seventy? When I think a couple, I think four or five. For example, if I asked my friend Jin to pick up a couple of limes, I wouldn't expect him to show up with seventy. And yet a lot of these guys who say a few extra pounds (and use old pics, damn them) show up and small children can stand in the shadow of their gut. Not that I have problem with being overweight, I just like making an informed decision. Like my friend Stephen who used to answer personal ads. He was always so disappointed by how much these guys DID NOT fit their own descriptions. One guy in particular was very vague about his looks. Whenever Stephen asked, the guy would say "Well I have great bedroom eyes" and then move him onto another topic. Finally I said to Stephen, "Are you sure he said eyes? maybe he said eye? Maybe he's just a giant floating eye." So Stephen finally met the Bedroom Eye, who apparently didn't even live up the bedroom eyes . It's not that I wouldn't date a giant floating eye at this point, it's just I'd like to know that's what I am getting into upfront.

But Let's End on an Upbeat Note

Today I went outside and blew bubbles on my front stoop. I used to do that all the time when I first moved here. I actually achieved a kind of cult status in the neighborhood. But then I didn't do it after IT happened. But today I found myself out on the front stoop, enjoying the day, blowing bubbles.

Now there is a social science involved in bubble blowing. In NYC it's always fun to see how people re-act to them. Most people pretend not to see them. A few will consciously avoid them, or treat the bubbles like hostile invaders from another planet (waving their arms to avoid the bubbles). Then there are the people, a minority, who smile and enjoy the bubbles briefly before continuing to wherever they are going. And then finally there is the smallest group, the people who stand and enjoy the bubbles while talking to me. Now the hard part about this science is you can never tell who is going to belong to what group. Some parents walk by with head down and could careless about the bubbles, some stop and chat. (Often the parents are more interested in the bubbles than the kids who are more focused on their gameboys.) Some really "hip" looking people treat the bubbles like invaders. Generally the people who re-act the best are older couples. Go out and blow some bubble and see. It's really cheapest way to have fun just about anywhere. I have a little tiny bottle from a friends wedding and I fill it every summer and when I wait for someone, I just pull it out and start blowing bubbles on the street. (And I can always say "You can miss me, I'm the girl blowing bubbles on the corner.") Also, I should note, what part of town you are also depends on how people re-act to my bubble blowing. (Much better bubble crowd in the Village.)


I will be posting the new beginning of the essay for the essay contest tomorrow. As always I thank you for input, and be as brutal as possible.
The Beginning of the Essay That is to be the Story of My Life

When I was a freshmen in college, we had to write down a family story. All the other kids couldn't even think of a story, for me it was a question of which one. I come from a family of story tellers. Every Christmas and Thanksgiving my family get together and trade stories. It seems amazing to me that after all these years there are still stories I haven't heard stories, but there are. Some stories get told again and again, like my aunt Lily pissing on the grave of her husband's first wife. My uncle Henry bringing my Aunt Martha a baby possum in the pocket of his hunting jacket. Mine is a story I hear again and again as well.

The beginning of my life, and the most dramatic part, is only a story to me. I can not remember what happened nor did I know until I was told when I was thirteen. When I was sixteen months old, I was diagnosed with a neuroblastoma, a rare form of neurological cancer. In the three days it took to diagnose me, I went from being a healthy baby to being paralyzed from the shoulders down. My parents were faced with multiple problems, even if I survived the series of emergency surgeries necessary to remove the rumor on my spine, there were questions about follow-up treatment. Should they subject me to chemo-therapy? Especially since the chemo I would be put on had the possibility of furthering the neurological damage. Some physicians suggested that neuroblastomas often spontaneous remiss, and therefore there should be no treatment at all. The treatments being administered to such a young infant could have serious long term side effects including sterility, learning disabilities, paralysis, impaired development of the immune system, and stunted growth. When it became clear that I would survive the surgeries, and my parents decided to go ahead with chemotherapy, a neurologist told my mother that the most mobility she could ever hope for me was that I drag myself arm over arm across the floor.

When I was four years old, I skiied down hill for the first time. I didn't use any special equipment. I used my legs. I wear high heels. I have won amateur ballroom dancing competitions. I am an expert skiier. I have competed in dressage at the tri-state level. And yet, I also have trouble feeling the floor below me. I have walked through broken glass without noticing. I have been emergency hospitalized when localized infections in my feet spread up the lymphic system. Everyday I think about how far I have to walk, how many steps I have to climb. Often I come home with bloody blisters on the soles of my feet. There is no way for me to know that I need to stop walking, I can't feel the pain.

There is an old Garfield cartoon that used to hang in some doctor's office (I've had so many, it is difficult to keep them all straight). Garfield is standing on the branch of a tree, below him defying gravity, Odie stands on the wrong side of the branch. The caption reads" It's amazing what one can accomplish when one doesn't know what one can't do."

How is that for a start? Change the order maybe? I'm not confident yet. It seems to cut and dry. It needs more something, drama, prose. Why is that whenever I am confrotned with a challenge I get so overwhelmed and terrified?

Mate.com Updates (Now Appearing Hourly)

I have changed the name of the dating service so as to avoid being sued.
Ah, finally at this late date, to know what it is to be the prettiest girl at the party. It is to need a serious armed guard. Don't be jealous, here are some of the screen names of people: mangeniuos (notice it is mispelled-hardly an advertisement), God of Thunder, and, a personal favorite, Italian Sausage. I also get lame poetry at no extra charge:
Your hair has a lovely red glow;
Your looks make me tingle from head to toe!
After seeing you my heart wants to beat out of my chest.
I hope you pick me from the rest!
There's something on my mind I must confess. You definately look better wearing a dress!
Thank you for reading. I hope it wasn't too horrifying! Ask me about anything. PEace!:)

Now I am rating closer to nine or ten men a day. I already have men vying for the right to rub sunblock on my back on the cruise. And I was worried I would be alone.

Again I say, one of the very rare occassions I just love being me.

Tomorrow I start work on the essay about my life, and you get to read the galleys and send in notes.
Today's Blog Will Be A Collection of Random Thoughts

Heroism is not absence of fear, it is perseverance in the face of it.

Response to Hostile Shout Out

Oh nothing like blog drama! As you faithful readers of Bunniblog know I got a hostile shout out a few days ago, and some of you readers who know me personally, know I took great umbrage at it. Well I thought I might take a moment and explain why. No matter what any casual visitor might think of bunniblog, I spend a great deal of time changing the template, working on finding new programming, good links, and, generally, one hopes, quality commentary and reporting. That and I really try to put everything on the line in bunniblog. Some have complained in the past that I have been too restrained, and so I am trying to be all out there, but that requires a lot of vulnerability. So when you put this much effort and expose this much of your soft underpinnings and then some random twit comes and is insulting, well, it is hurtful. And so bunniblog wishes to officially thank her readers for supporting her against the random insults of nitwits.

Change in the Template

Blogger, I think, has switched me to Dano, their new blogger program. As a result, I am at a total loss as to how the hell to change my new template. DAMN IT. And just when I was feeling confident in my ability to make minor changes. So if any of you have some helpful hints, not that you all ever do, I would appreciate it.

More Thoughts on J.B.

I've been thinking and think about this. And I have decided to get rid of him. I think we knew this was going to happen when I decided to write about him. I haven't heard from him since saturday anyway. When he calls, and he will, probably tomorrow, I'm going tell him "Sorry, you have to make reservations in advance. Because you see this is a five star establishment here, we don't serve fast food to just anyone. And you want service? Well then you better give respect to the head chef or I won't even fix you a bowl of salt soup."

Perhaps I am just looking for excuses to get rid of him. Perhaps I am over re-acting to a few incidents. Or perhaps, just perhaps I am totally justified in telling this guy to piss off. Since you all liked my fantasy writing before, here is my fastasy of the exchange between myself and JB

(K simply tells JB that she doesn't want to see him anymore.)

JB: What's changed since last week?

K: Only my mind.

JB: Why?

K: You know my father was an odd man. He used to say people only hurt you as much as you let them. Well, I must have let him a lot. I always felt like I wasn't enough, like I had to keep making up for just being me. And when he died it seemed that I sought men that made me feel the same way. I used to say they were pushing me to be a better person. But you know, they were just pushing me period. And they didn't appreciate me for what I already am. And you are part of that trend. And what I realized is that not only do I not need you in my life, but I don't even want you.

JB:So I threaten you intellectually, and you want to run away just because I expose the flaws in your thinking.Just because you can't bully me with your rhetoric and your memory, you get all upset and want to leave.

K: Oh here we go. You think you're "better" than I am. That's the word you used. But what you mean is smarter. Isn't interesting I know most of the stuff you know in fields I never even studied? Just think what I could do to you if I applied myself? There is this theory of mysogyny that it comes from a fear of feminine power. I think you are scared of mend that's why you put down my intelligence. And you know what? You should be. Not only am I smarter than you, I am stronger than you, and I am better looking than you, and most importantly I am a lot better in bed than you. So you should be afraid little man, you should be very afraid.


Nice isn't it? A good little speech. I'll never get to say it, but its a nice little fantasy. And instead of typing out all my objections it says everything I wanted to say in a short amount of space. He makes me feel insulted and you know what I just don't need that in my life anymore. So much for him.

Updates From Date.com

Part of my recent reveltion about JB has to do with my popularity at date.com. I won't deny it. I don't put much stock in online dating. Most of my experiences range from fairly awful to Hammer House of Horror. But I have gotten some response from some fairly cute guys, including one who I will be meeting on vacation. Oh yes baby, I might for the first time in bunni history TAKE A ROMANTIC VACATION. Please alert the media. Of course something awful will happen, hell come down with speckled rocky mountain fever or something. And beyond that you my faithful public will have to live for two weeks without bunniblog. How will you survive? I shall have to count on my erstwhile nemesis blogger Jin to keep you entertained. ( Jin and I recently got totally trashed on tequila. Say that three times fast.) Anyway, I realized that I have other options and I don't have to put up with twits r us. So I am not going to. So there.

I want to figure out how to have a new counter. On date.com I am averaging about seven new men a day. THAT'S RIGHT BABY SEVEN MEN A DAY.

Every once in a great while, I really do enjoy being me.

Google Watch

Bunniblog is the number one result for searches for bunniblog. WE HAVE THRASHED THE COMPETITION. (Jin-The Jig Is Up came in as the number nine search result. Your donations of tequila and advice will surffice as thanks.)

Bunniblog is the number three result for searches for MissLapin. (Might have to change some names here to protect myself.)

We don't even come in the first one hundred results for bad bunni so we have to work on that people. (Although I am heartened to know there is a hacker out there that goes by the handle fluffi bunni.)

Today on a search for eric kinsman we came up as number 23 out of 39 results. Not bad, but not good either. According to Jin I need to mention his name a few more times. Eric Kinsman, Eric Kinsman, Eric Kinsman. (Hey, it gives me satsifaction to know that I might make myself unignorable to him. So there.)

Strangely enough the one and only result for blogger kay is Jin's site The Jig Is Up!

And that is how we rank this week. Thank you for your support.




"David: Oh Sabrina, Sabrina, where have you been all my life?
Sabrina: Right over the garage." William Holden as David Larrabee and Audrey Hepburn as Sabrina Fairchild in the original Sabrina

The Most Popular Girl at Date.com

Ok so I posted a profile at date.com about two days ago, and yesterday I finally got the thing to upload my photo. And today, today I had TWENTY MEN who had posted interest in me. OK I am young woman in NYC, I had 56 year old guys from Virginia Beach imming me. I mean, c'mon. I did get a damn hot texan's interest, of course his screen name on date is WillyBilly. And the other problem is that he is a christian, but let me tell you for an evening with this guy I will believe in christ. I will also believe in santa claus, the lochness monster, alien abduction, and the george bush is a good president. Yep, he is that good looking. Besides, we know he is better in bed than Jew Boy (let's call him JB from now on shall we?). By G-d he has to be.

I even got responses from a guy in a place in Iceland I can't even spell. Another one from Hertforshire England. I went into the chat room today, I got six requests for private conversations. Of course most of them had an arm growing out of their foreheads, ( Or as I used to joke with a friend of mine "You ask 'What do you look like?' And the response is 'I have a really nice bedroom eye.'") Still, it's always nice to be the prettiest girl at the party. Even if the party looks like its being held in a live in genetics experiment.

This one guy who posted interest in me, it says in his profile he isn't interested in commitment. Ok who the hell goes to the trouble of writing a profile (he had a two paragraph profile), post a picture, and then go looking for other people, if he just wants to screw around? I mean, go to a bar and get a girl drunk like everyone else, buddy.

And now I have some twenty year old from denver chasing me. What the hell could a 20 yr old want with me? Although I have to say this, 20 year olds have ENDURANCE. I used to say "Young men for endurance, older men for expertise" but JB totally shattered the older man part. So endurance is good. Endurance is nice. I mean, certain standards must be maintained.

Oh joy Exorcist III is on, how I love Brad Dourif. I wonder if he needs a date.
"Why don't you give her a nice kiss, boy, before we go stampeding towards the clitoris?" John Cleese teaching sex ed. inMonty Python and the Meaning of Life

Jewish Boys and a Lack of Sexual Competence and Snuggling

I would like to say this for the record first. I am Jewish. By Judiac law, no matter what I believe, I was born Jewish and I'm going to die Jewish. So I have said it.

Having said it, I would like to say every once in a while I meet someone who so embodies every negative stereotype about Jews-stingy, kvetching, obnoxious, big nosed, for the men-totally lecherous-and when I meet these jews I reminded why certain people hate us. Of course, this happens with pretty much every race. My friend Jin hates this woman in our office, S, because she is the living embodiment of the "ghetto chick" and what these people do is reinforce negative stereotypes.

But what I want to talk about here isn't stereotypes. I want to talk about sex, and why jewish boys can't fuck. OH they CAN fuck, but they just can't do it well. The great lovers of my life, not a jew on the list, and I have given many of them a shot. Like the one this weekend (the one I have sworn not to write about, but I could careless about what he thinks because I am going to drop him like a bad habit), all I could think of when I was screwing him was the above quotation from Monty Python and the Meaning of Life "Why don't you give the girl a kiss before we go stampeding towards the clitoris?" Say it with me one time Jew Boy "FORE PLAY." Adn if you can't do it well, at least let me get on top and I'll drive!

I was talking to Jin about this, and of course, Jin being a more upfront guy (I think people should know better or read my damn body language-like the utter lack of movement or moaning should be a tip off.) says I just tell him. So here is the plan, if I ever let him near me again, I'm going to say "Ok put your tongue there and I don't want to see you for a half an hour. Take some cds if you must. If you want to prop up "Of Human Bondage" on my tummy and read while your doing it. Fine, but god damn, make sure I'm at least wet before you do anything else."

Ok that was a little more graphic than I intended, but you get the general drift. I mean if he was great, I could put up with the lack of good sex. But it's like date five and already there are problems AND the lack of great sex. Oh and there is a big lack of snuggling, and I do need snuggling. I demand snuggling. I want it, I deserve it, and I'm going to get it. I am snuggle bunni. I don't want you to pay for dinner. I don't want you to bring flower. I don't want you to send me boxes of chocolate. Well I do, but what I really want in snuggling. I want to watch movies all curled up with you on my couch. I want to wake up wrapped up in your arms or with my head on your chest, got it? So do it already.