You're doing the french mistake

"Throw out your hands, stick out your tush, hands on your hips, give 'em a push, next thing you know, you're doing the french mistake. Voila!"-Blazing Saddles

So the Mistake has a boy toy a work. This 26 year old, who is actually attractive. I was standing there and she is actually getting him to come over to her house for dinner. And she is already joking about marrying him. ( She also said to me while he was standing right "He's not ready now. He has no money. I don't want no man with no money. I gotta wait, but as soon as he makes it I'm gonna marry him.") This woman has been married twice already. She should give some of the rest of us a chance. This is a english professor who can't read. She doesn't know who Carl Jung or George Bernard Shaw is. She has never heard of tuberculosis. And yet, she will get this guy. And this is why I get depressed. This is why I lose hope for humanity. Because Darwin was wrong. Try and tell me that is helps the species that this woman should procreate. Ok now try and tell me with a staright face.

I guess John Yule was right. Act stupid, more cleavage.
The least you can do

"Quid pro quo, Clarice."-Hannibal Lecter Silence of the Lambs

Ok so I promised to catch you up on everything. I'm sick I'm tired I'm depressed. There now you are caught up.

I kid, people, I kid.

Ok so last week I was immed by this random AOL user proclaiming to be a fan. We chat a few times, good sense of humor. Again I'm excited that maybe the blog has helped to open my world a little bit and turns out that it is Vampire Hunter D's current girlfriend. Yep, I was dupped. And this is what kills me. She asks me a series of questions, and I don't lie. I don't cover. I tell her whatever she wants to know. Because really I feel she has a right to know. And I give her the right to be pissed at me. I won't justify what I have done. But I asked her one thing. ONE THING after I answered all of her questions and that was I wanted to know how she found the blog. I'm not going to go into why, but after I was completely honest with her she refused to answer the question. Now I'm assuming Vampire Hunter did something swift like wrote the blog address down and then promptly forgot he did that and she found it and tried it and then read through the entire archive to find the 7, yes 7 entries, on vampire hunter ( which if you think about the amount of reading that is for a very few entries is amazing dedication).

So now I have lost this "chat" pal, I'm fairly sure I've lost Vampire Hunter as he will either consider this a violation of his friendship or he will have to promise her that he will never contact me again. Either way. It doesn't really matter.

Because what is important is that during that final IM she asked me if Vampire Hunter had no girlfriend, would I want that title?

Now if she had asked me that two months ago I would have said yes, absolutely no questions asked. When she asked me, thinking about her position, a long term girlfriend finding out she had been betrayed and lied to for so long, I had to say "I don't know." And then two hours later I realized, thinking about John Yule and Vampire Hunter the answer is no. No. Would I want to be some chick waiting for her guy to finally settle down? Would I want to be broken up with every other week? Have to go through the tears and the mourning and the late night hagen daas again and again and again? Do I want to go through what I think is a serious mongamous commitment only to find out it is a lie? That my trust has been that violated?

No. No. No.

With these particular men I realize I took the right road. They are simply diversions. They have their place, but I have no desire to be their girlfriend, either of them. This is not to say that I don't want to have a boyfriend, but they are clearly not boyfriend material. Vampire Hunter ha cheated on two girlfriends with me and John Yule, well, he's John Yule. You get involved seriously with either of these men at your own risk.

And just a comment to the future IMmers. Quid Pro Quo. If you IM me and I answer you honestly, you should have the decency to do the same.



File under: more than you need to know

"Making getting clean as much fun as getting dirty"- slogan for Mr. Bubble

What is it about grading that just makes me want to grab the closest attractive man ( who happens to be, incidentally all of two feet away right at this moment) and ravish him? I'm not sure. I would give you some samples of student writing, but something vaguely resembling ethics prevents me, that and I think if I actually tried to type these sentences myself, my stomach would leap up and strangle my brain.

Yes, they really are that bad.

I suppose the physical impulse is aroused by something instinctive and primitive, mindless, as opposed to grading papers in which I have to be obsessed with details and rules, conventions. Or maybe, just maybe, this job is slowly killing and the desire to ravage someone is both an expression of my hostility ( towards my co workers, towards my students, towards the american educational system, towards the heads of my department) and a re-affirming of my survival instincts. I read in some ridiculous psychology book somewhere that some poor idiot thought that doctors were having affairs with their nurses because doctors "face death every day" and these affairs re-affirmed life.

I have a very hard time believing that the doctor who was caught getting a blow job by a nurse who was not his wife in the hospital elevator was re-affirming life. I think he was enjoying the thrill of doing something forbidden. Well, right up until he got caught. Yep, seriously caught. So caught that almost a decade after the fact people are still talking about it.

So for all my high falutin' ( I love that word) rationalizing etc. basically I am no different than John Yule. I am a dog, and I am open about being a dog. I'm just a much more articulate dog. Which in John's estimation actually makes me less attractive. Dogs don't need vocabulary, they just need to howl.

And good god the guy sitting near me is attractive. And he has an accent. Oh how we ladies love the accent. That's how movies like SWAT get made ( Who knew "one hundred million dollars" would sound SO MUCH SEXIER with an accent? I'm still not going to see it, but boy those trailers are yummy.)

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!

Blog Tease

"Because out here, it's fuck your friends, kill your parents, and have a nice day." -Kevin Spacey as Buddy Ackerman in Swimming with Sharks

Exhausted, sick, tired. And here you thought you were going to get a well thought out entry and all your getting is half assed excuse for why there isn't an entry. I think my students may have finally figured out that I am a bigger slacker than they are.

But I thought I'd give you a little taste of what is to come: identity the three coworkers I have had to fight the impulse to suffocate with pages ripped from my critical edition of Machiavelli's the Prince this week, the recent great and fabulous personal revelation I have had about romantic relationships, and who I am going to go out with this weekend. Yes, all this and more.

By the way Bishop called yesterday. Suddenly I have the impulse to confess...
Tooooooooooooooooooooooooo Tired

Ok just so you guys don't think I suddenly quit, I'm too tired to blog or do any of the work I should be doing right now. I'm about to go to bed. The thrill. But trust me I have scandal and come friday as soon as I get up from the 13 hour coma I am going to catch you all up to date.

Somebody get me a cough syrup flavored margarita, I'm starting to get sick.
Contemplating the Possible Demise of Bunniblog

Yep, I'm thinkin' about it, actually ending the blog. In the last two weeks the blog has caused a great deal of unwanted emotional trauma. I was contacted by a fellow former eric girlfriend and recently I was also contacted by Vampire Hunter D's current girlfriend. It seems that the only people who stumble on the blog and go to the trouble to read it are the for the most part the very people I sought to hide my identity from.

Jin and I were having a discussion last night about the inclusion of information in the blog. Although initially I used real names and now I "protect" certain people by either using pseudonyms or by omiting direct text. ( In some cases I have paraphrased or vaguely alluded to stories.) But the discussion was essentially about how much is it ok to reveal about people you know personally on a blog even under a pseudonym without his or her permission.

I include unapproved content all the time. Certainly the snatch.com and mate.com profilers have no idea I am posting their responses, but it could be argued that since their profile is already posted on the internet, they do not have the presumption of privacy. (I believe that actually the site itself "owns" the content.) But as for people I have contact with in terms of friends or co workers, how much of a presumption of privacy do they have where I am concerned?

None. The answer is none. In a discussion this weekend, about a totally different issue, someone said I have "interesting ethics". I took it one step further. I claim to have no ethics at all. I USED to have ethics. As Ma Bell Ami can testify I was a deeply ethical person for quite sometime. Even the idea of flirting with a significantly younger man struck me as overwhelming scandal. Even if the younger man initiated contact and was unattached. But when I lost almost everything I cared about, and I looked back on everything I had missed out on because of my "ethics" and the cirsumstances in which I was left, I realized that in a corrupt world a person must be corrupt in order to simply survive. ( Thank you Machiavelli) Or more accurately, in the words of Buddy Ackerman "So the only person's interests that you HAVE to protect are yours" because, the implication is, if you don't no one else will. So I claim to be totally self invested. I make no pretense to being "right".

Jin on the other hand is very interested in being "right". And so our discussions tend to veer towards Socrates and Machiavelli battling it out. He argues the way things should be and I argue the way things are.

My theory is this: I am a writer, first and foremost. A good story takes precedence over everything else. When I was working on the essay ( Glamour competition) I warned my mother that I would be including family stories. Although she didn't out right disapprove it was clear from her silence that she was unhappy, but again I must honor the story or the essay before her wishes. Even if she had disapproved I would have included these stories if the essay warranted it. My former co-worker Ty who was also writer agreed that basically anything done in the presence of a self proclaimed writer, whether published or not, is fair game even if persmission is not requested. The only concession he would make was if the observed was a writer, he would offer first refusal. He would ask if you were going to write the story yourself, and if you said no, he would take the story for his own use.

For a past entry, a fellow writer who reads this blog chastized me for honoring the request of a date in not writing about the date. He also perceived my obligation to the blog to be greater than my obligation to the date. He also considered it totally inappropriate for him to ask a writer not to write about him. To some degree it is like asking a tourettic not to tic, sure they can suppress it for a while, but it is a denial of who he or she is.

So my theory is generally you know I'm a writer, you have no presumption of privacy. Jin argues that I have no right to post information about friends and family and that this is a violation of privacy and illustrates a lack of self control.

Now we all know that self control is not a strong suit of mine, but beyond that it is interested that Jin considers it more of a violation for me to post information about friends (who know about the blog and have been given the address) versus co-workers ( who may or may not know about the blog and certainly don't know the address). Jin's theory I'm sure has something to do with honor among friends, but my theory is if you know the blog exists, if you have been given the address, and have been told to go, and you fail to do so, or fail to tell me not to write about you etc etc, then you have no presumption of privacy. You have been warned and failed to protect yourself. Personally I consider my co-workers more violated.

As if that were even possible.

I have to go now, but I'm sure I'll have to continue this debate later.
Act stupid, more cleavage

Yet again John Yule shows up on my doorstep. Yet again I let him in, this time I have questions. I asked him, as a writer ( wink wink-the nice thing about being writer is you can justify absolutely anything as research) if he just doesn't get sex from his girlfriend. To which his response was (drum role)

JY: I'm single.

( Momentary shock-what did you just say?)

BB: But I thought you said you were seeing someone.

JY: That was over like a month ago.

BB: Oh.

JY: Well, I mean I've had this girl I've been seeing on and off for a year. Basically it's really up and down because I can't decide if I want to be with her or not.

( I'm leaning towards the not.)

JY: And while we were broken up, I was seeing this other girl. Basically I'm a dog.

I couldn't agree more. You had a girlfriend then you got another girlfriend and on top of that you saw me. Interesting.

He asked about the Bell Ami sitch

JY: Whatever happened to that guy you were having great sex with but had a girlfriend?

BB: You just described every guy I've dated in the last two years... OK maybe not the great sex part.

JY: The one from downtown.

BB: Downtown?

JY: You were friends for a long time.

BB: Oh not downtown, you idiot, Florida. And I don't talk to him anymore nor do I talk about it.

Then we started talking about how people relate to me.

JY: Well small tittied women are always going to envy you. Titty envy.

BB: And the rest think I'm a slut with implants.

JY: OK listen up, you have some of the best breasts I've ever seen. Really, and men dig that so don't worry about the women. They are always going to be jealous. And let's face it, most of them know that their boyfriends want to screw you. So just forget about the women.

But how about how men relate to me?

JY: You're funny, you have a great attitude-a very healthy outlook.

BB: Are you kidding? I'm so far from healthy, I can even see fairly decent from where I am standing.

JY: But see you have this great sense of humor about things.

BB: I kind of have to.

JY: OK here's the thing men are intimidated. So you need to tone it down a bit...act stupid.

BB: Uh, I have, but my version of stupid is apparently still fairly intimidating.

JY: I know what you mean. I can't pretend to be stupid either.

BB: You don't have to, you never tried.

JY: You're right. Women like intelligence, it's a turn on. To men, it's scary.

BB: Listen I am four foot six disabled Jewish woman. How threatening can I be?

JY: I'm just sayin' get rid of the books.

BB: I'm not getting rid of the books. I'm an English professor.

JY: Well, maybe just cover them up with a sheet or something.

BB: You think covering my books up with a sheet is going to get a me a boyfriend?

JY: It comes down to this, act stupid, more cleavage.

And that's the final word on the topic, ladies and gentlemen: act stupid, more cleavage ( It sounds like advice from a producer to a female contestant on a reality show, doesn't it? "Now go out there, lean over the table, and say something like "The Holocaust wasn't in this century, was it?")

Who knew?