Hey, even six nippled women need love.

The quote for today, courtesy of blogger Jin.

OK, OK, you thought I was pissed before. Let me tell you. Generally I am a very passive aggressive girl. I'm not the type of girl who expresses rage directly well at all. But, on the rare occassions my full anger comes out, you had better hope you have G-d personally on your side, because you are going to need his undivided attention.

Now that much of the rage that comes out on these occassions has little or nothing to do with the person at whom it's directed is pretty much given. Not that they are entirely innocent, but case in point two years ago this guy, let's call him Ragnarok, he breaks up with me. Now I really didn't like Ragnarok, I wanted to break up with him, but being me I was worried that it would hurt him. He was already seriously depressed and I didn't want to add to that. So he breaks up with me. Do I see it as a favor.=? No way. And the day he did it I happened to have had like the worst three days since Eric had left ( Eric had only left two months previous). So I let him have it, the full demonic force of my rage.

Well, he broke up with me and he gave me the big forbidden three 1 it's not you it's me 2 I really care about you and 3 we can still be friends. I just snapped. Six months later when I ran into him, he was still scarred by what I had done to him. Now granted much of the rage directed at him was misdirected rage at Eric, but this man was shaken to his core by what I said.

So I was pissed with men to begin with and then Jin, instead of hanging with me in the park where I could have mellowed in the sun, I get squished into a car with a pack of guys and spend three hours finding a paint ball store in New Jersey, and I'm not even going paint balling. I just got back at nine. Myback is killing me. I am so bitter. I would rather have been doing work or blogging. And now I'm bitter that I wasted the day and didn't have fun. And I'm bitter that Jin keeps trying to convince me that there is hope. The Greeks said know thy place, and my place is at the bottom of a well with absolutely no light in sight. Like the song says if it wasn't for bad luck, you know, I wouldn't have no luck at all.

And now I'm even more pissed because I practically announce on the blog what a certain party could do to make me not pissed ie shout out or im or frickin' call and does he take the hint? No. Nope. Not at all. Now jesus, what the hell am I supposed to do, call him up and tell him to call me? That or the more likely answer is he is going to hide behind fear. He's afraid of my rage and let me tell you HE SHOULD BE. Trust me, there are still some tricks I could unleash upon him if I really wanted to hurt him. Of course hurting him isn't actually the goal. On the other hand, if I'm not going to get any kind of effort from him whatsoever, what the hell is the point of holding back?

To prove I'm a better person? Please, I think I proved exactly what kind of moral degenerate I really am a long time ago.

But a word of warning gentle reader, the longer you make me wait to find out exactly what is wrong or make contrition, the angrier I get. And trust me, my rage doesn't burn out like a candle, my wrath is closer to a forest fire. I can burn for years. ( Just ask Eric or my friend treehugger whom I haven't spoken to in two years.)

You Might Have a Girlfriend If...

Well Bishop hasn't called since Thursday, fucker. But I wanted to put down here a brief part of the conversation I had with him the first night we met. Wait that would be the only time we actually met, god damn it.

We were walking and he asked if I had a boyfriend and I said no and I asked him if he had a girlfriend and he said "Well, I'm seeing someone casually...but if she saw us together she would kill us both."

Guys, just a little tip, if she's willing to commit homicide, it's not a casual relationship. Generally murderous intent reveals a more serious commitment. But wait there's more.

"Yeah," he continued, "she's a psycho."

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THESE MEN? The first thing that comes out of his mouth is she's a psycho? And not "Well, she's the jealous type, but I love her." SOMETHING, ANYTHING that might indicate why you would put up with a woman like that. Later when we were talking he revealed she was probably cheating on him ( that he used the word cheating indicates it's not a casual relationship to him either-AHEM) and furthermore wouldn't fool around/sleep with him anymore.

So here's a guy who is clinging to an insane, jealous, non-putting out girlfriend and I AND I can't get a frickin' date with any of the men I want. I ask you does this make any sense at all. I'm not saying that I'm not insane, but I have at the very least never tried to kill any of my past boyfriends (and let me tell you considering how Eric treated me he should feel very blessed) for any reason nor have I denied any of boyfriends sex, if they pissed me off that bad, I just broke up with them, and jealous? Well, yeah I'm jealous, I'm jealous of her that she has this guy and I don't. And damn it I am woman enough to admit it.

Last Stop to Commitment

It seems that I have a miraculous power in helping men to finally commit to their girlfriends-Oh I'm not their girlfriend, but somehow by coming in contact with me they have some kind of commitment epiphany ( Volta, anyone?). I think maybe I should have t-shirts made or why not advertise as a business? "Having trouble committing to your girlfriend? Why in less than one week we can have you proposing in style." This week alone it seems I helped two men.

Do I sound mad and upset? Well good, because I am. Because this goes back to what I was saying about doing a lot of work and being really understanding and what do these guys do, they go for the very woman that sent them my way to begin with, they go for the woman that they were kvetching about and having problems with, whereas I, who bend over backwards to make them happy, I don't even get a wedding invitation.

Thanks so much.

I started off this week feeling good, feeling hopeful, getting about as close to happy as I get, and yesterday, yesterday I was so upset and angry I was kicking my furniture-yes my furniture for chrissakes-I took my hostility out on my innocent writing desk (which is thankfully very resilient) I then went out on a date where I was fairly hostile about men for the first part and then incredibly drunken the second part (he was more drunken). (It was a date with Disney so I didn't really care-although actually I came to like Disney again last night- he has a sense of humor, but I'm not sure whether we are actually dating or not).

And now to make a reference, a reference mind you to a specific situation, one of these men knows I am pissed at him (this is actually very rare for me, generally I don't express my anger directly) but well there are extenuating circumstances I can't go into-but he knows I'm mad at him and what does he do? Nothing, nothing. Not a phone call, not an email, not an im, not even a shout out on the blog. This is how much effort I warrant from him. He wants me to believe that he cares, he just doesn't want to demonstrate any evidence of it.

And this is the thing that gets me upset and pissed and in a little ball of low self esteem, these guys aren't willing to do anything for me. I mean, most of the time even paying for drinks out of the question, but to do something like actually call when they say they are going to, or pay for dinner, or come with me to the park, or a movie, or whatever, these things are apparently way too much of an effort where I am concerned. I can't remember the last time I got flowers, well actually I can, I got fuscia roses a year ago from a gay man. Before that though it's foggy.

That's a lot of anger for this early in the morning.

The Point of the Week

I should be sleeping but I wanted to take this one last moment to write this about Baked Alaska-Baked sent that letter registered mail which means that it cost close to five dollars to send-interestingly he has my phone number but hasn't called.

He probably thinks that as a teacher I appreciate letters more. Because for five bucks I can enjoy his golden prose forever, whereas on the phone his five bucks would be worth barely worth a minute and a half.

Besides none of you would be able to hear the phone call.

So, in his own misguided way, he was right. The letter was definately the better idea.

What's interesting is that genius waits a month to write me. Why wait that long? Was he expecting a letter and then when one came he decided to write?

And this brings me to my next point, which is kind of The Point of the Week "because I'm going to be moving in a kind of circular motion so if you pay attention you'll realize that this actually does have a point!" ( Kevin Spacey- Swimming with Sharks). Anyway I think need to teach a workshop for clueless men called "She's just not interested."

If she looks out the window the ENTIRE DATE and flinches every time you make eye contact----

If as you lean forward, she leans back---

If she picks places to sit where there is purposely some kind of divider or intense distance between you---( trap doors are a dead give away)

If she makes excuses everytime you try to make a date for three months---

If she talks about how hot other men in front of you---

if she actually tries to get you to set her up with one of your friends at party/social event---

If you go to give her a peck on the check and she says she's not that kind of girl---

If she doesn't take return your phone messages for half a year---

If she tells you that is the world was flooded with piss and you lived in the only tree she still wouldn't fuck you---( courtesy of "Parenthood")

And yes, every single one of those, except for the last have actually happened to me at least once


Bunni, Get Your Gun

I didn't tell you what happened later to day with the Mistake. I see the Mistake and I say to her "Oh I guess I have to talk to you about the Symposium."

The Mistake: Oh no I talked to S. again and I realized that you had already presented about it. And when you present you are fasinating. I took down every word. I would be fascinated if you did a report on the dirt in my shoe. Really. But I do need help with Lysistrata. I haven't read it.

(I kid you not, she said exactly that. I have witnesses ie. the Assless Wonder.)

Bunni:Well I presented on Lysistrata and Antigone too.

The Mistake: You did?

Bunni: Yeah I did all three together. They are all ancient greek texts.

The Mistake: You mean they are all linked?

Bunni: Well Lysistrata was written by Aristophanes and Aristophanes appears in the Symposium as a "character" so clearly Socrates and Aristophanes were contemporaries.

The Mistake: They were? Yeah, maybe we should talk about the Symposium.

I walk away furious that I have to WASTE MY TIME on some idiot who can't even effectively skim the fucking text. TAKE SOME TIME OUT OF YOUR DAY TO DO YOUR ACTUAL JOB. Remember this is the same woman who wanted to teach a seminar on how to "make love to your man." Gentleman, start your engines.

And you know what gets me more than anything? This bimbo has been married twice. I can't get the guy I like to call me, and several others I like apparently have forgotten I have a phone (until their girlfriends are away for the weekend or on their periods or shopping at bloomingdale's and then they show up bet 11 pm and 6 am totally drunk-is there like a sign in my window "Horny? Inquire within." Ok I'm ranting.) AND THIS BITCH GOT MARRIED TWICE. And you know what, the guy who married her was probably fooling around with some nice, loving, caring, smart, funny girl like me- Why do I always do all the work and get none of the pay off?

I mean every once in a while you could at least give me a tip.

A Letter from Baked Alaska: Attacked by a Moose

You know I know I shouldn't reproduce a letter that was written to me without any kind of knowledge of the blog, but wait till you see it. It was just too great a temptation. The italics are Baked Alaska's letter-the regular script are my comments interjected:

Dear Bunni,

I hope this letter finds you well.

What? What's this? Are you sayin'
He really did write "sayin'" Bunni you've never received a latter from the frozen 49th state? Burr-rr....

Calm down!! Calm down!! That's okay! Just follow these simple instructions. And then you will be reading this letter in noo time.
Okay who in the world can't spell no correctly?

Now, just take this letter and open your microwave oven door: promptly insert and garnish without getting the sides of the envelope too scorched!!

And Wall-laa, bon-paper-teet! And as a final step, sprinkle in some imagination!

No I am not kidding, this is the actual letter. This guy needs to lay off the exclaimation points. I'm also shocked he knows what my fiendish plans were with this letter when I was done reading it .

Well, enough of being rediculous.

nuff said

Did your trip go well with your friend?

My trip on the plane back to Alaska went well. Actually thanks to the Northwest ticket counter personnel my flight got upgraded meaning I only changed planes in minnesota not detroit as planned.

And I think we all feel a little bit closer to being bored into a coma for that paragraph.

I noticed while on the cruise, that you have good taste in clothing apparel

Now who in their right mind uses the word apparel?

Isn't it interesting how creativity can manifest itself in many ways. It can speak about a person, having an intriguing and adventurous mind. And a relationship full of intrigue and adventure is spicy!

Again I long to put a condom on my face

If I knew you better Bunni, I could almost say you were chic. Or even Trnedy, or made out even to have your very own style!!!

Lay off the god damned exclaimation points buddy.

Anyway, a person could say you dress to kill.

Well, enough of the compliments for the moment.

To put it bluntly, I should write equally about both of our qualities.

Right, keep telling yourself that I want to hear about you, no, really.

But what I experienced on just my second day back in Alaska. Was anything, but that of having a good quality. More Like on individual who lacks good common sense. Let me explain.

The lengthy airline flights always make me feel real sluggish. So on the morning of thursday june 20th, actually it was friday I got a real bad case of the adventure bug.

In the words of my grandmother "Oy gavalt!"

I decided to take an extensive jog across an area unfamiliar to me.

I was courious on a particular residentual area I go jogging in.

Don't even make me go there.

Well it turns out that this was no ordinary jog. Matter of fact, there was quite an elevation gain leading up to this radio control tower.

To make matters even worse, there was this stray black lab that was wandering around.

To my surprise, the dog. once it caught me jogging alone. apparently made it, the dog could not now leave me alone!!

Um, did I miss something? Made what? And where the hell did he sense of sentence structure go?

I welcomed it's company, of course!

Was that supposed to be sarcasm?

Thinking to myself did this dog break it's leash or was it abandoned by it's owners?

OK OK I hate to be an english teacher at this point but IT'S is NOT POSSESIVE-IT IS A GOD DAMNED CONTRACTION-alright I feel better.

So here I was on this dog jog. Skyline drive did have a dead end.

Schmuck, when the hell did I get a map of the area where you live? What the hell are you talking about?

I took a moment to admire the view, before jogging back down.

When all of the sudden this mama moose and her baby calf strolled out from this thick brush.

Of course the black lab challenged the moose. To my amazement, I found myself right in the direction of the moose's oncoming path!!

Ok that's moment that truly deserves an exclamation point! He is being run down by a god damned moose.

Well Bunni with no time to think. Me being on this road in all. I just lungened into thick brush. Even tripped from all the branches!

Moose can sure run when they are mad!!

I suppose I should start to close my letter to ya.

What? No denouement? That's just bad story telling form. You lunge into the bushes and that's it? No reflective moment over a Coors later in the day? No asking yourself "Hey maybe that moose owed a favor to a little short girl in NY"? Nothing?

The next letter I will write to you will be about all the activites I had during the fourth of july weekend

I anticipate the very thought of it. The thrill of reading about a Alaskan Fourth of July. Did the moose bar-b-que?

please write me, if you have the time.

If not, that's cool.

Nice, that really came off as geniunely casual.

Your job must take up an awfull lot of your time. Especially during the school year.

Uh did I miss a meeting? When did July become the school year?

Well, Bunni thank you for taking an interest in me on the boat and getting me to open up You Broolyn Beauty You


Your friend

Oh now that's just lame

Alaskie Jr.

He actually put the junior there on paper.

There's no point in even making fun of it. But I tell you when I tried to tell Jin about this paper I was laughing so hard about the moose incident that I almost passed out. I have now kissed a man who was chased by a moose.

Because if you have to be crazy, at least have some originality.

By the way, I know I mispell things all the time, but I was careful to transcribe this letter exactly as is-all the misspelled ( sp?) words and misplaced periods etc they are all exactly as they appear in the letter-so as to add authenticity because who would want to miss out on its ( NOT it's) homespun charm?

The Mistake Must Die

Ok so I was about to get up when the head of the department ( just for the summer) comes in and says "I was wondering if I could ask you a favor. It turns out that The Mistake is having some trouble with the readings, not because of any lack of intelligence, but just because of her training ( what was she trained to be a pilot?) it seems she is a little intimidated so I was wondering if you could tutor her on the Symposium."

At this point in the story, when I told my friend the Assless Wonder, he said "I hope you said 'Hell, no.'" Well I didn't because I don't want her kids to be totally clueless come the fall because their stupid ass lazy ghetto-ized imbecile of a teacher can't take the time to read the assigned reading.

And what, my add, kind of college professor is intimidated by reading WE ASSIGN TO FRESHMEN? I mean, c'mon if THEY can read it, then we should be able to.

So then I say "Well you know maybe she could just sit in my class on monday, which is when I am going to be teaching the Symposium that way I don't have to take time out to talk to her."

"Well" our idiot savant of a spineless leader says "She is really busy. I don't know if you see her, but she is always writing classplans."

Ok what? I'm NOT really busy? I'm teaching 18hrs a week and then 18 hrs of office hours on top of it, plus keeping up with the reading and grading homework for 80 kids? Oh wait, and I DO ALL THE READING. In fact, everything I teach I've read at least 2. ( Ok I haven't read the St Augustine twice yet but I have the weekend for that.) And what the hell is writing her class plans ON if she hasn't done the fucking reading? ( I'm sorry but this is an occassion where that word is appropriate.)

"Um Ok, yeah so I can meet with her on monday then."

"Ok thanks for that. It's great how we are all helping each other."

Yeah, or let's put it another way. It's great how I'm helping everyone else and I get absolutely no extra pay for it at all and the only thing I get to go home to is the knowledge that I helped some utter undeserving asshole keep her job because I don't want her kids, who will never know that I am their true benefactor, to suffer.

This is the reason the Jew don't have saints, people, too much competition.

"Have you ever been felt up? Over the bra, under the blouse, shoes off...hoping to God your parents don't walk in?... Over the panties, no bra, blouse unbuttoned, Calvin's in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?
Bender ( as played by Judd Nelson) in The Breakfast Club You know I really hope you guys appreciate all the research that I do here at Bunniblog-um all the research that I do instead of doing work that is.

So I was going to take some time here and talk about Bishop and explain who he is and where he came from because I know all you out there in Bloggieland who never shout out really and deeply care. But I digress.

Well I was going to write about Bitshop here, but I don't feel like it right now except in a kind of referential way. I'll give you the big meeting and bio over the weekend when I am not about to fall over. It's a gorgeous day, I want to spend some of it outside, that is if that putz Jin can ever get ass over here so we can have lunch.

Is there anything more wonderful than being on a date and getting a call from the guy you really like? Yes, getting calls from two guys ( I really like one, the other, well, he is good for a place holder on saturday nights). You see, when you get two calls, it's not "Oh I have options" it;s "Oh I have a waiting list" and beyond that it's "Oh I have a harem." The problem is, for anyone who has had one, harems never last.

So anyway Bishop called last night and left this really cute message for me (Oh lord I am making myself sick with frilly silliness) "Hey, got your message and I'm excited about your message and I'm excited about being excited about your message so um give me a call..." Ok now that I type it out, it's not that exciting, but it was really exciting for me. I'm all glowy ( albeit in a drained about to fall over from sheer exhaustion kind of way) and I'm sitting in my classes and its really hard to stay focused you know when there is a hot guy out there leaving at the very least interesting phone messages. ( That the guy a can handle dialing a phone and b bothers to call me back and c isn't so terrified of me that he's emigrated to Siberia is just amazing to me)

Where the hell is Jin? He is supposed to be here by now. I'm going to be forced to eat this damn computer

I'm trying to do the reading for class and all I can think about is when is he going to want to see me and what should I wear ( skirt? dress? pants?) and will I have enough time to get a manicure and pedicure done? (Oh yeah, baby, we are getting out the big guns- the toes in Essie's "UPS" and fingers in Maybelline's "Cherry Rain.")

OK I must go-it is too nice of a day to sit in front of a computer and day dream about a date that hasn't even happened yet.

Why teaching can drive you to suicide

OK so remember I was telling about the whole Boomhower1971/mysterywoman97 sitch. ( By the way I do know the specific identity of the student and have not released it here- I am still debating how exactly to handle it-whether I should report it to the powers that be or just ignore it and go with my theory that report only gives her the impression that she succeeded in her goal of bugging me). But I want to take a moment to clarify what really bothers me here. This was my student, I thought I taught her the importance of research and particularly google. All she had to do was plug in my name ( my real name) into google and she would end up at any number of incriminating places. For example, the first search result is for my wish list on amazon. She could see what I would like for my birthday-she could, from there have found the lists of my friends and family (for example my wish list is linked to my aunt's-it has my aunt's real address posted there as well). The next set of results is for commedia del sangue, so she could have found pics for a very young Bunni covered in blood hanging with her vampire brood friends. Finally she would have seen my name listed on some of the survivor boards that were going up the night of 911.

Furthermore if she had typed my screen name in she would have, quite reasonably, have ended up here. But she violated Machiavelli's directive on destroying your enemies. In order to effectively destroy them, YOU MUST KNOW THEM. If you just try some random plan you fail, but if you get to know their weaknesses then you succeed. All she had to do was find this site and she would have had more material than she knew what to do with.

So apparently after all that work she couldn't even take five minutes out of her day to work some effective revenge. Which I suppose is the best revenge of all-showing me exactly how much I failed her as a teacher

I'd love to see you in the night with your head thrown back and your body on fire.

The above quotation is from After Dark, My Sweet.

What is it about knowing you've been bad when you're in a busines meeting pretending to be all professional that is just so satisfying? And I don't mean bad in the "Oh my g-d the police are going to find out and I'm going to jail unless I find a trash compacter and chainsaw in the next five minutes" sense of the word, I mean bad in the "I've been a bit naughty" sense of the word. Not reallydangerous, just flirting with dangerous. Like "Oh hey there bad, why don't you come over here and sit on the couch next to me" while you sit in such a way that your skirt rides up just a little bit to show one extra inch of leg. Are you with me people? Do you feel it yet?

There's something about sitting in a business meeting and knowing that twelve hours ago you were passionately kissing some handsome blue eyed man. Something really fabulous that while you sit there and have serious discussions about the implications of the Symposium and what should be part of the ideas presented from the Confessions, that you were sitting on your couch with one arm around your waist and the other in your hair, your hair that was up in a pony tail, and is now a disheveled mess. Some snuggling satisfaction in knowing about this secret side of yourself, of thinking about him right then and there, and no one knows it. It is, dare I say it, a 9 1/2 weeks like moment.

And just because I stumbled upon it, it is for moments like this that there is the amazing vibrating br. No I don't own one, but I am curious. How the hell is a vibrating bra discreet? Does it ask the other people in the room to leave first?

Oh wait I'm not telling you what you want to know, which is who was I being naughty with? Well for now I shall call him Bishop, since he was carrying a book on chess when I met him. I will fill in more details later.

Oh the mystery!

I am the dog? I am the dog?
The above quotation is from When Harry Met Sally, it's one of those random lines that no one but me notices.

OK so do you remember Casey my insane colleage with the bad relationship ( which he has finally stopped talking to me about probably because it is now definitively over-pardon me while I give myself a big Marv Albert "YESSSSS!")? You probably don't ( and this, people, is why the good lord made archives). Remember my last posting about the failure of evolution to weed out the less desirable profs in my department? Well here is part two.

We are all given a core reading list. These are readings that we have to teach no matter what. And on the core reading list is Augustine's Confessions. Fine, good. And at this meeting I was at, Casey has to present the text, basically to give us all (ie the people who imagine themselves too important to do their own research) a similar base for teaching the text. One of the things Casey brought up is although Augstine is conceptualized as "an old white guy" considering the area he was from, he would probably be of very dark skin tone. ( I think he was educated in what would be today Algeria.)

So fine presentation done. Today I am at the copier and Casey comes up in purple face mode. ( He's a blusterer, but an ineffective one because he blusters about everything from his coffee being warm to the war.) What is he blustering about? Let's just call her The Mistake. The Mistake has comes up and the follow conversation takes place-

Mistake: "Um can I borrow that book by that African guy?"

Casey: "What African guy?"

Mistake: "You know the African guy you were talking about the meeting?"

Casey:"You mean St. Augustine's Confessions?"

Mistake: "Yeah that."

Casey:"Uh, you already have a copy of all the core reading."

Mistake: "I do?"

Casey: "Uh yeah in the bag of all the other required books."

Mistake: ( paws through bag that has sat untouched under her desk) "It's no---oh here it is. ( looks through book) So this is about like christianity and stuff right?"

Casey: "Uh yeah."

Mistake: "Ok thanks."

People is so much to ask that the professor's read the required reading? Cripes no wonder my students are such slackers.

And as Casey pointed out, with all the extra work I do, all the time I spend online answering questions and finding video clips and writing insightful questions to guide my students-this woman and I make the same amount of money.

Fuck the gun. Send me an oozie.

A Basic Failure of Evolution

You know how shall we say the "weak" are supposed to die out and therefore the "strong" of the speciies will propagate? Or so Darwin hoped. Well, I was in a meeting today and a fellow english professor, A FELLOW ENGLISH PROFESSOR, asked "what does the word 'ambulate' mean?" Now I don't mean to sound high falutin' here, but AMBULATE? C'mon, I can accept that students won't know it but someone teaching English at my level really should know ambulate.

Someone get me a gun. Apparently there are some tasks mother nature needs a little bit of help with.

The more I date, the more I love my cat.

So it has been confirmed that this is indeed the work of a student. A student of mine from last year, which means a couple of things. First it means a 20 year old student went to the trouble of recruiting a 31 year old man to "mess with me." ( And that the aforementioned man is a borderline pedophilic twit-ok he's not a pedophile but tell me a 30 year old doing something for a 20 year old he's never met isn't a little icky)

But even more disturbingly it means that I have to change the web address for bunniblog since an enterprising student could use my screename to search through google and come out here. ( Even though this site is anonymous, and technically anything I write in my free time should not be the business of my employer, unless its during company time which it isn't or with company facilities which again it isn't.) So don't be surprised if some time next week you come here and find nothing a few empty cokes cans to indicate that once there was a mighty blog here. Don't worry I shall re-open bunniblog at a different address. One more difficult to trace through my screen name.

Abused by My Trusting Nature

Ok two weeks ago I received an IM from an AIM user called MysteryWoman97. (I am printing her actual screenname here, you'll see why in a minute.) Now she claimed to have gone to high school with me and my first boyfriend, whom I have been looking for for ten years. (We were best friends for three years before we started dating, and as we know, once I am attached I have tendency to continue caring about the other person. I merely want to know that he is ok and alive and happy. I don't not have delusions that after ten years we will see each other, fall in love all over again, and elope to Bora Bora.) So I started chatting with her.

At the same time I received an Im from another user with whom I was not familiar, Boomhower1971. Now those who know me personally heard me talk about him briefly. Boom is from Tennessee and I find it amusing that his accent comes through during im. In fact, I think imming with him is a riot. My frind Jin cast a warning eye over at me when I said this ( the whole it's easy to like someone who is far away and just words on a screen). To which I responded "Well the reason I like him is I don't know if I am laughing at him or near him." I mean this is a guy who, if he is to be believed, packs boxes for UPS for a living. Hardly a guy I am going to put a huge effort into meeting, but he did keep me amused on my off hours online.

So I chatted with MysteryWoman97 and Boomhower1971 for a while. Finally I signed off. Boom and I continued to chat. I stopped seeing MysteryWoman's sign on and didn't really think anything of it. Until Boom started sending me email. It wasn't that the email was anything wierd or kinky, mainly jokes about the difference between the south and the north, just cute fairly standard forwarding stuff. But then I noticed that he had also forwarded MysteryWoman. So now I had a bad feeling in my stomach.

As jaded and hateful as I may seem to you, my precious readers, people who know me personally will tell you I tend to be more trusting and more kind than I should be. I worry about hurting other people's feelings to the point that it's amazing that I can function at all. ( This is also why I have to come up with some fabulously passive aggressive ways to weasel out of things, I have a very difficult time rejecting people as I don't want to hurt them-we shall talk about this issue at another time)

So I sent an email to Boom asking him what was up with this mystery woman thing. And he sent me the following email back:

Hey Ms. Bunni I got your email that you sent me. Thanks for writing me it is always an honor to hear from you. To answer your question about mysterywoman97 yes I do know her. I met her online about 8 months ago in a chat room. That night when I immed you, she asked me to talk you and mess with you, but I couldn't mess with you. The more I talked to you the more I liked you, I truly enjoy talking to you and I hope we can talk more!

So now I have unknown AIM users gunning for me. My suspicious is that Mystery is one of my former students (Although how a former student of mine would know the full name of my first boyfriend is curious. Whoever it was did some kind of research.) Clearly, whoever it is, knows my screen name (she greeted me by my real first name and not the assumed name that my AOL account is under), which means that she knows me personally. For her to have this kind of hostility, to recruit someone else in order to torture me, indicates a dedication, but also a pettiness. All that work so that some random yahoo can IM me? And then there is the added situation, if we choose to trust Boomhower, which I don't think we do, but if we did, that after all that work it backfired because Boomhower has actually come to like me.

Now why did I post both of their real screennames if I am not trying to rally you into avenging my honor? Well, for the same reason that John Yule's name is up here, for the protection of other people. I am a laid back girl, but when this kind of thing happens it pisses me off to no end. This is how being a trusting and kind person pays off. (In the novel Candide John the Anabaptist and the only virtuous character in the novel dies very quickly essentially murdered by a self concerned sailor. Voltiare the author was trying to tell us something fairly straightforward. So straightforward in fact that Billy Joel wrote a song about it called "Only the Good Die Young"-ok that was about talking some girl into losing her virginity, but the basic premise of the title works here) Some idiot decides to torture me via IM. And for what reason?

( Incidently should you want to torture either one of them of your won free will, feel free.)

And of course there is a part of me that does want to know what exactly what I have done. ( All I can do is think of Gary Oldman in the Professional "What filthy piece of shit have I done now?" Oh I love that man. Gary, where have you gone?)

And of course all of this kicks up my paranoia, and I have to worry about what the hell did I say? And is it being posted somewhere under my real name? Is there some vengeful student out there who is spreading my real personal information out there (like where I live). And again, how did she know the full name of my first boyfriend? It's not like I have used any online services to find him except occassionally type his name into google. Is she eyeballing my wishlist at Amazon as well?

You try to be a good teacher and give them your AIM name so that you can help them with questions. You try and be a good person and even in the middle of New York not have your belief in human decency be totally corrupted. And then something like this happens.

And what am I going to do about it? Absolutely nothing. There is a part of me that wants to know what ridiculousness I could have pulled to deserve such a prank, assuming I deserve it . But one of the things I firmly believe in is that revenge is really not necessary. You see, the one thing you can be absolutely sure of in this life is that everyone suffers. If you want someone to be in pain, all you have to do is wait. I mean look at this chick. Here she has gone to all this effort, finding my first boyfriend's name, recruiting some random guy off the web to harass me, and what's it come to? I didn't say anything embarassing to either one (Being a New Englander I have my guard up with new people-I don't appear to, but trust me nothing I say would be incriminating or embarassing). So she accomplished nothing.

But look at me, I'm a total mess. Depressed constantly. Desperately chasing after men I don't even want. Unable to even find a guy to go to the movies with me on the weekends, when all my friends have bfs and gfs. Terrified of getting my own mail. Still pining for men who could care less if I had fallen down an empty elevator shaft into a pit of rabid mechanical alligators. All she had to in order to get revenge was just sit and back and know I live a fairly miserable existence.

This is the crux of my advice, whenever someone tries to screw with you, or even succeeds, sit down, have a margarita, and know that deep in their hearts they are going to at some point bleed like a superficial cut to the aorta.

So I shall sit here and be confident in my theory.

On the other hand, there are certain parties (all I can think of now is Brad Pitt in 12 Monkeys "The underlings of underlings and other assorted minions...") whom I am fairly sure will take upon themselves to protect my honor in the manner of a Jehovah's witness pit bull (joke courtesy of Bloom County). And so I end my post by saying:


Shane, come back, Shaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnneeeeeeee

Depressed. Again, I get to be last woman standing, the only girl without a boyfriend. I was that way in high school. I was that way in college. And I am still that way now.

And the only person who seems to be able to effectively deal with my depressions IS AWAY. I keep waiting and waiting for him to come back and every time I sign on, no email, no im. I feel like that little kid at the end of Shane, or maybe I feel like Shane riding off to hide the fact that I am dying. And of course the fact that he is gone, off having fun, only makes it worse. (Not that I would want him to live his life around my depressions, that would be impossible.)

Also I blew off a guy tonight. I was suppose to go on a second date much later tonight, but well I didn't really like the guy all that much, I just liked that he had a motorcycle. But he was really annoying me on the phone this week and so at the last minute I decided I would rather slum around here, after my evening with Rich and the gang, in my pjs. Of course now I'm in pjs being depressed, wondering why it is I can't get one date with a person that I don't want to clobber with a toaster after an hour of conversation. There has to be someone out there I can date and keep my self esteem intact.

I should probably just go to sleep.

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