Schmuck to the Second Power

"You are what you love, not what loves you." -Adaptation

"I was reading about how sometimes after people die, their loved ones think they have come back. They get this sense. I'm not talking about fantasizing that they are alive, but they really feel like the person is alive, but what they never talk about is, what if it happened? what would happen then?"-Truly Madly Deeply

When I was with Eric, I had this journal. It was this really nice leather bound one with cream pages. My mother gave it to me. She's given me enough journals and stationery to open my own Kate's Paperie. ( she's very encouraging of the writing thing) Anyway, I had this beautiful journal for a while, but I never used it. I have this habit of starting journals and abadoning them about half way through and then instead of taking that one back up, I would just start a different one. So I had this really nice one, and I didn't want it to be just another half finished journal. And then I met Eric and I went and got that journal out and started writing in it because I knew when I met him it was the start of something amazing. I wanted it saved, preserved.

And the day he left me, I took that journal, with maybe only about 60 pages left, and put it in my underwear drawer. I have not opened it since. When I got low on underwear I see it mocking me. And until this week I have never felt the urge to open it. I have never felt the urge to take it up gain.

But this week I have. And part of it has to do with a situation that I can not write about here. A situation that I am bound to silence on for a huge variety of reasons. But because of this situation, I want to start writing in the journal again. But I am afraid to open it. Afraid of what will confront me when I do.

We all have these ideas about who we are, these myths of our own identity. I tend to see myself in one aspect as a victim of male desire. Men want me, and I want to make them happy, and so I give in. But some men I have been involved with pointed that I was not the victim, but often was the aggressor, or at least that is how it felt to them, that I not only wanted male desire but I demanded it. And this disturbs me, because I don't feel like an aggressor at all. So then I become all confused about what really happened and who am I really and how much I contributing to huge mess that is my life. And I am afraid to look in these journals and see who I really was, see how things really were, to begin to seperate out the fantasy of that life and that girl from the real me.

One of the things that I wrote about the Florida trip is that hanging out with Ma Belle Ami, someone has known me close to a decade, is that he made me realize how much I changed for the better. Generally I look at myself of the past and I look at myself now and I think I have utterly degenerated ( le mot du jour-the word of the day). But Ma Belle Ami made me realize that in many ways I have improved.

And that should be a good thing, but it just makes me realize how much my perception of even myself is off.

Now I could just start writing in the journal you say. Right sure, because I have such iron clad self control that I would be able NOT to look at all those entries I wrote poolside in las vegas.

and of the situation of which I can not write, but some of you may have guessed of which I speak, what if the cure is worse than the disease? What if I have traded one kind of pain, a real one, for a phantom pain? A fantasy simply to keep me entertained.

I do know this about myself, I am not a person who can not live long without the fantasy of love. I need to believe that I have the possibility of it. And yet in two years, the few men (3) that I could have loved are all in their own ways unattainable. Am I doing it to myself? Do I pick them because I don't want to go through it again? Or do I do it because I am one of those stubborn women who thinks she want s a challenge to prove her worth? Or am I just plain stupid?

Do I write in the journal again or should I remain in fear of words that I wrote two years ago?

The answer always seems so simple when its stated. But even reading the email Eric sent me on 9-11 reduced me to tears (I was going to use it for the glamour essay), what will the journal do. It also has his love letters in it. The only love letters I have ever received.

So sad for a writer.


OK I have to, absolutely HAVE TO, post this profile I just got sent. It makes the sex obsessed phonetically spelling elephant look like a good catch.

play and listen to ALL kinds of music. Into mideval recreation groops. yes i am a knight in shining ld like to find someone to shower with love and knows how to give it back. i am shy but get fantasies alot about being with a real, yet dirty lady. if you want a Friend, penpall, sex, or just a ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on, im your man.

Just reading this ad makes me feel so dirty I want to put a condom on my face. In the words of Scott Thompson of the Kids in the Hall "When I look at your faces, I feel puke."

But I am concerned that this blog is just degenerating into making fun of the myriad idiot men who send me interest via "" Because it is soooo easy, but the truth is that idiots like the one above have more luck with mate than I do simply because there are more people like him than like me. I worry about the blog becoming this sad desperate "look I'm better than these people no really" claims. Because these people, these ones I make fun of, probably have a much better shot at being happy than I do.

As I teach my kids, the pursuit of knowledge inherently leads to suffering. And this might explain my current condition. That and I have gained weight and am always hard on myself and run screaming from any man that treats me decently.

Is that really the best you could do?

The film "The Whole Nine Yards" has a sequal that is going to be released. What is the title? "The Whole Ten Yards." If the title is any indication, it doesn't even pretend to be anything but lame recycled crap. Is it so much to ask that the title be entertaining? It's bad enough when you see totally unfunny trailer, when the company couldn't even find two whole minutes of entertaining footage, but when they can't even come up with a good title? That's just pathetic. Even "Dumb and Dumberer" had a good concept behind the title I've never seen the first "Dumb and Dumber" so I will not be seeing the second, I'm just saying technically the sequel title is even more clever than the original. It's a sad, sad thing when you can't string together three amusing words that do just to your film. I mean my cat could crap a better title than the "Whole Ten Yards."

I think I need sleep.

The Real Alien Problem

This post was inspired by the black saint . In his post entitled "God, I am old and cranky" he discusses his problems with the movie Independence Day.

Now this is some what unrelated but I am hoping still amusing. The town where my mother moved to while I was in college is prime UFO country. In fact in the early 90's there was apparently a series of famous UFO sightings in the region. There was even a book (I don't have the energy to find the title), and I know all this because the newspaper I worked for up there actually had me do an article about it. So I had all this UFO stuff and interviewed people who saw it and the whole nine. So I was talking about UFO abduction with my friends and in our typical manner we were not taking it seriously at all and we developed the following theory.

Now if aliens are super intelligent beings (if we even assume the aliens care to travel instead of focusing on domestic issues like welfare reform and housing) and they care to come our way, and assuming they aren't terrified by a race of beings that thinks shows like "The Bachelorette" and "American Idol" are actually worth sitting down and watching, a race of beings that so can't believe that fast food is fatty that they sue the manufacturers, if they aren't so terrified by that, does it make sense that they would proceed to land in the middle of nowhere and mutilate several cattle in order to learn basic biology?

As Bill Hicks would say "Has it occurred to anyone that these might be hill billy aliens? That they might be some intergalatic Joad family? 'Don't you all want to go to NY or LA?' 'No we just had a long trip, we'd like to kick back and whittle some.'"

Basically what came of our discussion is that it is patently unlikely that such intelligent creatures would have to mutilate several hundred cows just to understand simple carbon based life forms, they would probably simply head to a library. But then we realized why even go to a library, everything they need to know is online. And that's when we realized that the whole reason why we kept getting kicked off of aol was that the mothership was trying to download information about the next Justin Timberlake appearanc or download free porn off of kazaa.

So there you have it people, the AOL alien conspiracy revealed at last. If something should happen to me, call David Duchovny and tell him to stop acting in movies. (Saw a trailer for "Playing God" last night on the video I rented. I just want to grab that man and shake him and say "Did you learn nothing from Kyle Maclachlan and Twin Peaks? Do you really want to end up in the remake of 'Showgirls'?")

Why am I Such a Twit?

"Man: You a fuckin' lawyer?

Woman: Depends on who I'm with." -Other People's Money (the play NOT THE MOVIE which is an affront to humanity)

Ok it's almost 3 am and I have to get uo at 6:30. So why am I up blogging?

No, that wasn't a rhetorical question, I'm actually asking.

I was reading the black saint's blog and he has this very good rant against the ethics of the housing situation on Friends. (And it also warms my heart to know that I am not the only one who has these kinds of thoughts about tv shows-often my friends say "But it's just a show" and I have to say "yes but still..." and they simply write it off as a blogger who is bitter at the success of tv writers, but I digress). Anyway, it was a rousing entry, even though I'm so exhausted I should be in a coma. So I decided to post a comment, a simple one liner. Generally my comments are much longer. And this makes me paranoid that I am taking up too much space in the comments section and rambling like a twit (us english professors are good for the rambling). So I simply posted "Can I get an 'amen'?" which is both a quote from one of my favorite plays "Other People's Money" (see above quote) and indicative of how inspiring I found his post (I debating just writing amen, but somehow this quotation seemed better, it just appealed to me). But then immediately after posting it, I was like "will people get it? should I have explained it more? will they think I'm a total moron? or even worse just an insane random poster?" Now why the hell do I care what some random yahoos in cyberspace think of one comment? I don't know, but I am worried enough about it that I had to post a whole entry here to explain myself.

Why, why, why am I such a twit?

Too Tired To Blog

"I give you the cookie, I give you the whip, I give you the cookie, I give you the whip" my Russian ballroom instructor explaining what he calls the "cookie-whip" theory of politics

Excuse me, I have to go swallow my tongue

"Because even garbage cans dare to dream."

Alright so I was in this staff meeting today and they make me want to swallow my tongue to begin with but then you add that EVERYTHING, yes everything that could go wrong did go wrong and that I am on my period and Ma Belle Ami who can usually be counted on for emotional support, or at least gratutitous (how the hell do you spell that word? I have no energy to look it up) compliments is off with his girlfriend (curse him, having a life, I shake my fist in his general direction) Well, the tongue swallowing factor just goes up exponentially.

You know what makes me weep for the future? Not that my students are lazy and distracted. No, it's that even English professors don't read anymore. I'm in this meeting today and we get this fist of hand-outs and this new teacher, and granted he is a new teacher, but I was the new teacher not too long ago and well remember the experience, is asking all these questions that were totally answered on the hand outs. Now I know you can read because you managed to get through grad school. C'mon people take ten seconds out of your day.

And the other thing is he is asking all these questions that the rest of us already know the answer to. He is taking up all this meeting time to ask questions that if he had any kind, and I do mean any kind, christ I think plants even have these kind of smarts, he would realize ok this is not something to take up time in a meeting, but rather to ask someone one on one so that our (collective) valuable time so I can do the things that desperately need to be done, like copy my syllabus (which I couldn't do earlier because the copier was broken) or contemplate the horror that is my life or question why the majority of dutch painting is so boring.

One of These Things is Not Like the Other

Do you remember that game from "Sesame Street"? And the little song that went with it? Just now I look at the top of my blog and says related searches: blog, blogs, weblogs, misanthropic bitch.

I'm sorry, have we met?

The Return of Bunni's Tips For Men

Ok OK a long time ago a friend of mine suggested that I should publish tips on dating me here. And I started and the stopped because really so many of them seemed self evident. Yesterday we clearly hit another one without being aware of it, and that's be upfront about what you want. MAYBE OTHER GIRLS WANT YOU TO LIE, I don't. You just want me for my body and never to call again. Well, ok just tell me that then. Don't start telling me you want to take marry me or you can't wait to see me again. Just say "Thank you for a lovely evening" and get out.

But here's some more hints for the e-daters. Ok is this your ad:
tis is 4 all sexy women that is out they look 4 the 1 that will love them 4 them and not what u look iam just a men look for someone that can have fun and can kick thair feet up chill if that is u then gave me a holla

You are not the Sphinx. Make some kind of sense. Please. What I got from this is that a baby elephant taught itself how to type using only Hustler. I would actually prefer a simple "Have cock, will travel." At least I can understand that. ( Hell, it's e-dating why not go for "have BIG cock, will travel"?)

Here's another one from a man who claims to be 47, but whose picture looked 67: Very romantic, affectionate, physical and generous gentle MAN seeks young LADY for happily ever afters! No games, no bars, and no tears. Compassionate, passionate, supportive communicator. My weaknesses are a good heart, nice smile, and great legs -- yours, not mine! Live near the rivers, lakes, and MSP airport. Serious respondents UNDER 40 only, please. Write NOW! We don't ever have forever...

Again "Have cock, will travel" would have been totally sufficient. Not to mention, it would have made me laugh instead of making me shake my head in shame. I ashamed for this guy. Um, I don't mean to brag, but if at 157 you think you can handle a purely sexual relationship, you better get your secret stash of Extasy, Viagra, "horny goat weed" (as advertised in the Village Voice) and horse tranquilizers out of retirement.

And what's with these guys looking for purely sexual relationships who want ladies? Basically you want some girl dressed like Betty Crocker on the outside and Frederick's of Hollywood underneath.

And strangely enough if you want that type of costuming, I am your woman. I used to be an actress. With no more than five minutes warning I can go into my closet and come out dressed as a Viking, an angel, a red sequin devil, or a playboy bunny (what a shock).

But the point here is that simplicity is your friend. IT IS I SWEAR. You want sweet young pussy on a paper plate, well hell just ask for it.

And another thing, who are these people from other countries who are emailing me for a casual relationship. (Oh my god, I just channelled Jerry Seinfeld.) Um, my idea of a casual relationship is I don't have to leave my building. I shouldn't even have to change out of my pjs (IE John Yule-see previous posts). Come to my door just wearing shorts and when I open the door shout "Room service!!!!!" (I would laugh so hard, and then probably call the police.) But casual relationship definately does not involve changing time zones and it really doesn't involve my passport.

Better Living Through Blogging

All of these entries are my secret attempt to make up for all the days when there were no entries. And all the days to come once summer semester starts when there are no entries.

So as I said in my previous entry ( all of five min. a go) I met Ari and we hung on the front stoop. So now I have a new friend in the neighborhood. And we do seem to be well suited as we both like to sleep late and bitch about male stupidity.

And they say cyberspace is making us all isolated and apathetic. Well I met a cool person in my own damn neighborhood thanks to bloggin'. I feel like I'm making one of those cheesy testimonials that you see on dating websites and I never believe are real. "Thank you blogger. For all the love and joy that you have brought into my life. I never thought that I could meet a like minded woman in my neighborhood, but you changed all that. And now my life is complete."

In Praise of Men Who Are Upfront About Just Wanting Sex

"One time I actually slept with a guy to get him to stop trying to sleep with me." WASP by Steve Martin

Actually, tonight I met for the first time Ari of Ari Goes Down. She was great. We had a fabulous time sitting on my front step snarking about man problems until my upstairs neighbors who are like the cast of freakin' Deliverance showed up and made a big deal about her dog (which honestly is an amazingly cute and well behaved dog).

But we were having a conversation that actually has some relevance to the shout out Jin posted on my last entry. I would like to say for the record I would prefer a guy who is upfront about just wanting sex. I had an experience a few months ago, which I neglected to blog about because it was fairly insignificant. What happened? I see this hot guy in a bar, not much upstairs, but what a staircase! Anyway we flirt and flirt and I take him home. He stays the night, the next day does he take my number? No. Do I offer mine? No. Was I hurt? No. We both got what we wanted and left the situation satisfied. What hurts is sitting by a non ringing phone. Or even worse when they talk you all up about how gorgeous you are, and how lucky they are to have met you, and how they can't wait to take you out or call you (see Mike the Industrial Plumber). PLEASE DO NOT DO THAT. Because then I have to sit and ponder what I could have happened that would suddenly make you not want to call me. And I mean I've had guys like head over heels. I give them a kiss good night and they promise to call the next day, and voom. Gone. I can only hope that they were hit by a car on the way home and were left unharmed but with discreet amnesia. You just want me for my body, just tell me. Because with me, you just might have a shot at that.

Remember the story of Damien the guy who asked me "Do you want to just go back to my place, throw off our clothes, have sex, and then never see me again?" Well, actually no, but thanks for asking. But the truth is there are nights and certain people where the answer would be yes. There are certain guys I don't want to date, but a roll in hay? Sure. And I would rather have a guy be upfront. I like to make an informed decision. That's all.

And to the guys who are honest about just wanting sex, I salute you. I do. I just wish you could maybe on occassion send those really into oral sex and cuddling guys my way.

Just sayin'.

Saturday in the Park with Bunni

Well I know I have been slacking lately. The summer semester is nigh, and I've been out and about having a great time. Honestly it's like New York heard I was thinking of moving and was like "Quick, we have to do something."

I admit part of my lack of blogging has been due to um distracting issues. Just accept and don't ask.

So July fourth I hung out with Jin and Company in the park and then watched the fireworks from the roof of a friend's house. Today I hung out on my stoop and tried to read Augustine's Confessions. (I did actually make it through Books I and II.) And now I am on the verge of a new semester pondering its beginning with trepidation. I am so unprepared. I hve to read Machiavelli, Matthew, Marx, and Montaigne. (Yes I left the M's for last.) And I'm totally unprepared for the prose class. Right now I am trying to watch Mighty Aphrodite to use with Lysistrata.

but somehow blogging seems very unimportant now. Oh except I do have one interesting story to impart upon you.

The Return of John Yule

Now if you go back to the from last week entitled the wierdest day I could have without leaving the apartment you will see an update about John Yule. Basically he came to my apartment in the middle of the night. Well, last night he did it again. (And now unbidden that awful Britney Spears song popped into my head.) So he buzzes me at five in the morning. I'm exhausted. I answer the door. and there he is. This time he had been drinking (I couldn't tell what). So he comes in. So finally I'm like "Alright what's up? What's going on?" And he says "Well I really liked having sex with you." So I'm like "Ok and you still have a girlfriend." And he says "yes, how do you feel about that?"

How do I feel about that?

What are you, doctor Phil? And who cares what I feel about it, what about her? And what about him? So I said "Well, how do you feel about that?" And he says that he feels awful. (Interestingly all his girlfriend has to do is find this blog, and I will have terminated his issue. But since he never emails, and never calls, I'm fairly sure he won't find the blog, but she, if she is an enterprising girl, she very well might. My blog comes up as the number 55 search result for John Yule -out of a possible 517.) And I'm like "Ok." So then he says "You know you shouldn't let me in." Oh, Oh blaming the victim. Well not really. I say "Well maybe you shouldn't ask me then." And he pulls the "You're right, You're right. I know you're right." And then, then he says "You know, I shouldn't do this because you're a cool girl." I agree. He says "Well I guess I should quit coming around then."

Now being someone whose stock and trade is specificity in language I say "Uh, well that's like breaking up after a first date. You can't really quit because you haven't set up enough of a pattern. But ok." And you see here is where I got pissed.

Being the other woman. I have no problem with that. I should, but I don't. Probably because I've been the other woman so much. One of the major tenants of Greek philosophy is "Know thyself." But when the Greeks said this part of what they meant was "know thy place." And my place is in a locked in a hotel room. My place is my phone number written on a bar napkin thrown away, scratches on the back hidden, strange late night walks. My place is as the unnamed "friend." My place is not at an altar or by a man's side at a party. And I have, as the Greeks recommended, accepted my place is the universe. My place is as the Other Woman (as sung by Nina Simone).

But this, when he suddenly turned tail. I was actually hurt by that. I'm not sure why, but I was. And he said he wouldn't come back, but I don't believe it. He'll be back at some point. Perhaps genius will finally figure out I have been broadcasting his adulterous urges.

The other thing is I would like to say what I think of his cheating here. What I think is that if you cheat that something is wrong with your relationship, and you don't feel comfortable telling her and this is recipe for disaster. Or, or there is another option, she's not the right one. Because back in the days when I was with Eric, men threw themselves at me left and right. And I was tempted, trust me. I had a gorgeous Austrian guy who wanted to do things to me on a pool table that I couldn't even spell. I was close, but when I thought about what I had, I realized it was so much better, I wanted no part of this guy. (Ok ok, maybe a small part. )

What I think is that the basis of all love is sacrifice. Everything is about the price you are willing to pay. And real love takes sacrifice. That's what it's all about people.

So what I think is that there are problems with John's relationship which is why he turns up on my doorstep at four in the morning. And the problem will probably get worse. Probably, but not necessarily. And G-d knows relationship problems can fester for years. He may handle it now, but suddenly twenty years down the road it becomes intolerable. And by then he has kids. And he has to go through a messy divorce and pay alimony and child support when all he had to was be honest with himself and her about what was going on.

Would I be happier if I were her? If I had someone to snuggle with in the park only be cheated on in the night?

And if I was dating him, would he be cheating on me? Is it inherit in him, or is it about this particular relationship?

And why am I wasting my blog with his issues since he is never coming back (according to him). Like getting to the center of the tootsie roll tootsie pop, the world may never know.

    This page is powered by 
Blogger. Isn't yours?