The Keith Richards friday night achievement award goes to....

Ok so I partied hardcore last night HARD CORE. I feel great. Actually, I feel like the floor of the six train, but I had a great night.

It's like whenever I think I need to move, I hate NYC, it's like NYC hears and thinks to itself "Well, I'll fix that."

I go into F's last night with the intention of simply having one drink and saying hello to some of my friends. So this guy I met a year ago, who was married at the time, is there. He claims he isn't married now. He is going downtown to a birthday party, and he wants to take me with him.

So the party is at a gay bar called the Slide. I meet all these fabulous gay men including one who looks like the way I imagine Dorian Gray to look. So that's what we shall call him.

We have drinks. We go to a karoake bar. We sing for two hours. We go to Standard.

Now I could have woken up naked and hung over in the formerly married man's bed. God knows he tried, even though I kept telling him I wanted to date.

One of my favorite moments of the evening was I told him, "I'm not going to sleep with you tonight."


"Ok so when can you see sleeping with me?"

Who am I? Madame Cleo?

Later when he was trying to convince me that he didn't just want me for my body, he actually said "No what I really like about you is your..."

At which point he forgot what he was going to say because he was so entranced by my boobs.

Now imbecile then proceed to hit on this huge woman dressed like Elvira. He kept trying to get me to go home with him, but then he would switch back to her.

Well, I wasn't havin' it. I was like "Go with her. I'm not interested in going home with you."

So I ended up in bed next to Dorian Gray.

We had a great time.

I could have woken up next to a perhaps married man feeling used and disgusted with myself and him.

Instead, I had a great night, met fabulous people, spent way too much money and have a well earned hang over.

And now I have a date. Of course, ain't that always the way.

I should say it's not with the married man referred to here.

In fact, as far as I know, he isn't married.

The Dead Flying Cow Joke

So Miracle Gro tells me this joke tonight.

"We have this joke in Russia. In this town, there is this sign 'Flying Cow Circus.' Everyone is very excited. It sounds great. They want to see the Flying Cow. So finally the night comes. They get this cow and they hook it up to a crane. Up goes the cow, and then they drop it. Again up goes the cow, and they drop it again. Again and again and again. And finally the cow thinks to itself 'I wish I was dead already.'"

Miracle Gro starts laughing hytserically at which point I realize THAT was the joke.

He looks at me "It's a really funny joke in Russia."

That's when I started laughing. So there we are. He's laughing at a flying cow that wants to be dead, and I'm laughing that this joke is funny in russia.


So I had a lesson with Miracle Gro tonight. It was different. He started off in a bad mood, but then he perked up. "You put me in a good mood. Do you know that?"

Baby, that's just the beginning of what I would like to put you in.....

and on....and around...and under....

but seriously folks, having drinks with him on tuesday changed things-he is much more complimentary towards me today. He kept saying you are doing so well. He seems to have more, I don't know, to be more concerned about me and put more of an effort in.

Maybe now he understands how much this means to me, or that I am not just a client.

What is odd is that having drinks with him really improved my dancing. I don't know how but it worked.

Better living through liquor-that's what I say.

The good news is he ordered his computer so soon I shall be in his apartment helping him with his whatever he needs help with.

And I do mean whatever he needs help with.

Kiss it and make it better

So, I guess my doctor oogling was noticed by someone, as suddenly I get an email from GIH news entitiled: What to look for in a good hospital.

Well, I think we've established that I am very demanding.

Not only do I want quality medical care, I want it provided by an attractive and single member of the staff with flexible ethics.

Oh doctor, it hurts right there

no, no...a little to the left

Quote when you conversate

OK, and here is something I shared with my class this morning, perhaps part of fuzzy boundary issue. I was talking to my class, and some of my students have Casey for another class. "Don't ever use quote as a noun in front of Casey." I warned them. "He doesn't believe that quote can be used as a noun. He insists it is only a verb. For the noun, he insists on quotation. Don't even try to argue it with him because we've photocopied the dictionary for him and showed him the entry. He is just adamant."


"This coming from a man who uses conversate in front of his classes."

They laughed and then some of them offered up times when he used conversate in front of them. They then said "Yeah, the proper word is converse."

I almost wept.

On the other hand, these are the same kids who don't know who Steve Martin is.

Taken Care Of

So I gave the Spinster my rant on hating men and why and my total lack of faith in pretty much everything, but gravity, which will probably go any day now. She was laughing hysterically. "You have to write this down," she said. I told her, "I do."

She didn't even ask.

Back to that previous post-Engine 54 asked me who would laugh at my pain. Apparently my honorable colleagues, which is only fair since I set it up as a joke.

which indeed it is

Perceptual Distortion

Student Number: So where were you last night, you weren't online at all.

Student Number Two: Are you kidding? She was online all night. She was online at three in the morning.

Bunni: I was?

Student Number Two: I think you need to put less into your job.

Things not to do when you're depressed

One of my students just lent me her DVD of the Hours. She knew I wanted to see it and she brought it to me. Unfortunately watching the Hours in my current condition seems a bit like reading German literature when depressed. Basically it's the emotional equivalent of a bottle of secanol washed down with a quart of Cuervo gold.

Still it was awfully nice.

Why I hate married men today:epilogue

I was telling the story to the Assless Wonder and I realize I left out some details that would add to the comedy and enjoyment of the married man epic:

He is 300 pounds. Yep. 300. I am so tiny I can't even give blood. I don't know how he thought he pull off screwing me without endangering my tiny life.

The film I fell asleep watching? Aladdin. He tried to seduce me during Aladdin. Because nothin' says hot forbidden sex like Disney.

So I spent last saturday having a 300 pound married man try and seduce me during Aladdin.

The hot guitarist eschews a dedicated fan for drunken fashion victims.

The guy who wanted to take me to dinner has cancelled twice in one week.

Anyone wonder why I have a total lack of faith in humanity?


Dr. Feelgood

Ok, so I do not go into details but there is this doctor who I have a total crush on. If you go here, you may feast your eyes upon him. (Look at the top all the way to the right.)

Unfortunately my crushes have been working out VERY BADLY lately ( thank you Jin for feeding my ego so that I may fall even harder) which is why I am afraid of doing anything. Although, ahem, he has noticed me, and I know for a fact he has thought naughty things about me.

And of course he is one of the guys who could use me for my body, but won't.

But really, he is so much hotter than george clooney.

Jin has requested I get him a double blow job for his birthday. I am a bit more modest. I'll settle for a thorough examination.

or a guitar lesson...

Today's Sentiment: I hate men...not all of them...just every one I ever met

Bitches, man, they're all bitches
( courtesy of Say Anything)

So there is this hot Argentine guitarist who plays jazz across the street at Rohr's. I spotted him two weeks ago, and I always go and grade and listen to them play ( it's him and another guy). Twice a week, every week, but I have too much of a pussy to really say anything to him.

The reason I didn't say anything is this guy is hot to begin with then he's foreign so he has an accent AND he's a musician this guy must look like the ASPCA he has so much free pussy, so I couldn't believe he would be interested in me.

Not that I am not attractive. I am, but I am also smart, and as John Yule established, and the Assless Wonder verified for me earlier tonight, educated pussy is very intimidating-and I have a grad degree.

But the Assless Wonder gave me an imperative tonight, I was to talk to hot Argentine guitarist and get his number. And I was going to, I swear, and then...

So earlier in the evening they are playing and these two chicks come in. One looks like Audrey from the movie Little Shop of Horrors ( complete with leopard print half coat) but much heavier and the other is an Asian chick who's half shirt highlights her Buddha belly and has this shade of bright red that looks like it should have stayed in the crayola box.

Really, they could have done so much better.

So these chicks listen for a bit and they whisper to each other like 4th graders and then they leave.

The asian one comes back and leaves a note on the back of a card that says "Game of pool?" Then she leaves again.

Two hours later they both come back and listen to the end of the set. They are both drunk. I mean knocking stuff over drunk. And what do these guy do? They leave with them.

Jesus H Christ on a fucking crutch.

You know when I was 24 I was an agnostic. Now I am an atheist who doesn't even believe in Darwinist ideas. What ELSE is there for me to lose faith in? Gravity?

I am so disappointed in these guys. I mean these girls didn't buy coffee, tip the band, OR EVEN LISTEN TO THE SET. ( Afterwards the girls said to the "Oh you guys are soooo talented." Really? How could you tell from a bar across the street with both doors closed?) I on the other hand am a dedicated and respectful groupie. I go every week, I stay to the end, I buy coffee, I tip the band. And I get smiles and nods. The joy, it is acknowledged I exist in time and space.

But what I am talking about here is operant condition and Darwinism. First off, don't encourage the bad behavior. And I don't mean bein' "easy", I mean bein' obnoxious and stupid and yes yes evil. C'mon think about the human race, people, do it for mankind! Do you really want to pass the no mannered gene onto your children?

But really men bitch about all the stupid stuff girls do ( Jin, you know it), like Bill Maher. Bill said, "Women can't complain about men until they start showing better taste in them" in his last HBO special. Well, the same goes for you, boys. You pick the idiot girls with bad fashion and no manners, well then don't complain when they are idiot girls with bad fashion and no manners. You knew it, you accepted it, now frickin' live with it.

I am so pissed. I have been kicking things. In fact, I am so upset I am going to go and have a drink.

I REALLY NEED a boyfriend. It's so sad. I haven't had even a "fun" boyfriend in like a year. The other night when I was sitting at the bar with Miracle Gro he touched my hand and I felt it all over my body, not because he is my true love or anything, but because it's been so long since someone simply touched my hand. (They all want to go, in the words of John Cleese, "Stampeding towards the clitoris.")

The worst idea is that maybe argentine guitarist would have been interested if I had done something instead of acting like a reserved new englander. Like maybe I should say something. Since I don't believe in fate or destine, I ampretty much the victim of my own pussiness.

or maybe he just wants easy american pussy without an english degree.

And this whole rant doesn't even begin to do justice to how depressed I am.

And on top of everything I was supposed to have a date tonight and he cancelled...AGAIN. One more cancellation and I am sending the Assless Wonder to give a beat down.

At least then he'll have a reason to hard to eat without front teeth.

Pomegranite seeds

Yesterday I was terribly depressed. My second class would have been more exciting if I had taught in a morgue. And the only saving grace besides my conversation with Miracle Gro was that Jin brought me pomegranite seeds to eat.

It doesn't take much to make me happy, just a small bag of pomegranite seeds.

After me, no grass grows

Miracle Gro is my ballroom teacher, whom I have always been attracted to, and now, I have to love. Last night I was in a terrible mood and I was hangin' out on F's because I saw a friend of mine in there and I look and at the end of the bar I see Miracle Gro. So I said to my friend who was tending the bar "Send the guy at the end of the bar a drink" one of those corny movie things I have always wanted to do and never found a chance to pull off. Well, he beckoned me over and we had this big conversation.

Miracle Gro has had a great deal of emotional turmoil. I won't go through the details, out of respect for him, but basically two years ago, his wife, who was his professional dance partner, ran away with his best friend who was another dancer. Miracle Gro tried to continue competitive dancing, but his heart wasn't in it. He was so depressed that "The only thing I had to live for was my dog. Really.I knew that I had to stay alive to take care of her because it wasn't fair that she should suffer."

"But" he told me last night "After me, no grass grows. Now her career is dead. She is trying to compete and she can't even qualify. When we were together, we were fighting for first place at Nationals. She knows she made a mistake, but it's too late." So I told him his experience confirmed my own theory, that basically pain is garaunteed. If you want someone to suffer, just wait. "No, don't wait" he said "Just focus on yourself. Don't even think about that other person."

The other thing I like about Gro is everytime I put myself down, he very seriously says "This is not you talking." I said "What do you mean, this isn't me talking?" "You do not really believe this. This is something someone else has said."

"Listen, when I was competing you know what they said in every single review of me? I was heavy. Heavy, Heavy, Heavy. I was competing against people like sticks. And I always felt bad. But now I look back and realize who cares if I was heavy? I was the better dancer, I was winning the awards. That is the problem with Nicolas (current head of the studio) he is too concerned with appearance. What people see. Tell me why is it you think you are such a bad dancer?"

"Well because I have this idea of what I look like. This image in my head. But when I see the video, it always looks awful and disappointing so I figure that's what every one sees when I dance."

"Do you know I have a whole wall of videos? How many times do I watch them?"


"Once. And I hate all of them except the last comp. I ever did. That's the only one that makes me think it's ok. But I go through the same thing. I think this is the way I look, but then I see in the video no. But really that's not what people see."

It made me feel so much better to know this guy who is fabulous dancer has the same problem I do. Basically, I am afraid to feel good about my dancing, which is ridiculous because in the end who cares? It's not my job, still I guard against it.

Later, when I was talking about my teaching related depression, he told me, "Look, your students don't want to learn, that's not your problem. You're a good teacher. I can tell, but really your students have to want to learn. And that's not your problem."

I just love this man. Love him. And I promised him I would help him with his computer. Oh yeah baby, love the technology.

But my favorite Miracle Gro moment happened a few months ago. We were dancing in the ballroom, and he said "Look you do so well those people are watching you."

"Maybe they are watching because I look awful."

"Bunni, no one watches something that long unless they enjoy it."

"Maybe they enjoy the awfulness."

He pointed to head and said simply "Time to take out the garbage."

Dance teacher and good therapist. The man is such a catch.

Temptation Island-Finale

Lord I can't believe I am admitting that I watched this show. I was supposed to be on a date, but alas I am watching the final bonfire.

Surprisingly, four couples go in, one comes out. Also surprisingly the girls came out better than the guys. And the GIRLS are who called it quits.

I'm just shocked. Not that I don't think girls break up with guys. They do. I have. And not that I think that it's unlikely, but I suppose, as the host would like to say "this is what I learned on my journey", that I generally think that women will hold onto a relationship till the bitter end, even if there is something better right in front of them. But really I suppose gender has nothing to do with it.

And so I have come away from Temptation Island having learned something important about myself-that I tend to think of women as more committed to relationships than men.

I have also learned that if I ever get a boyfriend again, I am not going put him on an island with 28 hot chicks.

Fuzzy Boundaries

Is it me or does that sound something like the Great Wall of China covered in green and purple faux fur-the really cheap kind?

So I was accused today by Casey, who is apparently running a very successful "Let's get EVERYONE to hate me" campaign ( clearly therapy is working for him-wink), of having "fuzzy boundaries." Actually it wasn't so much an accusation, as it was a kind of blame the victim approach masquerading as empowerment.

Now how, you may ask, did he pull that off?

We were discussing the Mystery Woman 97 ( check archives around late July) situation. Everyone wanted to know what happened, what had been said. Now really we had other issues to discuss at the meeting, but gossip won the day. And how does Casey respond? "Well this is what happens when you have fuzzy boundaries."

Ok so apparently it's my own fault when I give out my screenname in good faith and get abused even if I made it clear that the screenname and email was to be used ONLY for class.

Caey's insinuation is that my young appearance, my refusal to act "professorial" and my continued social contact with former students may confuse students about what is "proper" behavior.

If we go to the quid pro quo theory, even though I may violate certain expectations of professorial behavior, my unconventional behavior has limits, and they are clearly defined. It is very clear that I do hold to many professorial conventions. Although I my bring up personal experience to illustrate a point ( and I also allow students to do the same), it's not like I am calling them up to gossip about their boyfriends. ( In fact one student was shocked that I didn't know her boyfriend was another one of my students. My response was "How would I know unless you tell me?") Even my social contact with former students is limited to NYU grounds.

So where, pray tell, does all this fuzziness come in?

Some of the other teachers thought I should change my screenname. I explained that my screenname was a signature, it actually had a meaning for me. In addition, I explained that the risk was small. "One student in three years decides to violate that trust? It's hardly a chronic problem or one likely to recur."

Casey responded, "No, no it sounds like you have accepted the consequences of giving out your screen name, and you are dealing with it. You are not a victim."

Jesus H Christ.

Should I hold a take back the screen name vigil now?

Quantum Redux

Eliza Dushku is starring in a show as a morgue attendant who lives the last day of the bodies in the morgue in order to save them. So basically it's Quantum Leap with eye candy.

And just when those freakin' reruns stopped running on the sci-fi channel.

Blue Moon

So has finally decided to post pictures and descriptions of the Carribean cruise I went on in June. I am providing a link. See if you can spot the bad bunni in the photograph section . By the way, Damocles and Volta also appear in the pics for those of you who are dedicated enough to look and figure out who I probably mean. You can also see the couples that formed permanently ( notice my absence and damocles and faux wife's inclusion.)

A devious solution

Ok the people have spoken, and they want the link to the married man's site. So I have added to the site, it is carefully hidden. Those who frequent this blog will find it. I have used this devious methodology in the past (ie "Volta" is also linked to this site) so those of you with enough free time and dedication can find out who this guy is and those of you who care less can move on with their day.

Why I hate married men today-the expanded version

I was telling the story to a friend and I realized I left out a lot of good bits in the name of, I don't know, not cowing to gossip. But here is the expanded version of the story.

Ok the married man is a guy I know from February. We hung out one night he was totally impressed with my movie knowledge. He told me was seperating from his wife and he was upset about that. Anyway I gave him my phone number and said we should watch films together. Now before anybody gets all on the you wanted him horse-at that time period I couldn't find anyone to go to the movies with me and I love going to the movies so I wanted just a movie pal. Well I never heard from him. I finally sent him an email asking if he wanted to go to the movies ( I can't remember what film I wanted to see) and get this email back all "I don't know where my life is going" etc etc and therefore he can't go to the movies with me which is of course short hand for I sobered up and thought better of the whole movie idea.

So fine. I moved on.

He didn't.

Every time I saw him, which wasn't too often, he'd be seriously drunk and seemingly unhappy about his marital situation. Which was odd because he was STILL LIVING WITH HER. I always kept my distance, but I did think he needed a friend to talk to because he did seem so overwhelmingly miserable. I felt sympathy for the poor imbecile.

Until yesterday.

Last Sunday I happened to see him at F's and we hung out. He was extremely trashed, and so I kind of babysat. What amazed me was how upsetting the topic of his marriage was. Finally I was like listen if you are so unhappy why not get out? He didn't really have an answer for that one. Well it turns out he wants me to come home with him because wifey is away for the week. I say no. Several dozen times. Anyway, I sent him home and home he went...finally.

The next day I got a voice mail message. It was the married man, and this is what he said ( paraphrased) "Hey, this is ****. Um, I'm calling to apologize, uh assuming you're still talking to me, which I hope you are. I can't really remember what I said last night, but I think I owe you an apology, actually I'm pretty sure. Anyway anything I can do to make it up to you would be great."

So I called him back to tell him he was fine, I had dealt with worse. He kept saying he was a dick he was a dick. I was like hey enough, I have to go.

Friday I called him to see if he wanted to hang out. After all, I didn't have a date and he was a decent enough conversationalist. And again, he seemed like he needed a friend, especially if he was drinking to the point of blacking out.

We were supposed to hang and then he cancelled. He offered to take me to lunch on saturday and I agreed. Lunch was great. We decided to get drinks afterwards which wasn't the best decision I've ever made. I was drinking slowly, and he wasn't. But then at the end he ordered me two HUGE strawberry margaritas. And of course, I had to drink them.

I would also like to say the conversation was very safe. We were talking about politics and films, Michael Moore and statistical manipulation, healing and its dilemmas. It was hardly the talk of seduction. Anyway, I did at one point mention how pissed off I was about men just using me for my body ( hint hint). A comment I have made him to many times before.(actually on sunday I told him directly "I am not interested in just sex. I have that part taken care of thanks. There isn't a shortage.")

So, in one of my not so bright, induced by margaritas moments, he decides I have to see this film he has at his place and I agree. So we go, and we sit on the couch. And I fall asleep.

Yep, I feel asleep. How is that for overwhelming passion?

Well, some people don't understand that an unconscious girl on the couch is not an invitation to license. He started kissing my stomach and trying to unbuckle my pants. I got pissed. I stood up and said "Where the hell did you put my shoes?"

And then he said "What did you think this was all about? What did you think we were doing here?" I was like "Um watching a movie?" was what sprung to mind, but what I said was "I am trying to be your friend." And this is where he got pissed ( which amuses me to no end). He was like "You think you can fix me? You think you can fix my marriage?" I said "No I wanted to help you. You seemed so miserable and I understand what it is like to be in your position." And he offered ( and this is my favorite line) "Can't we be friends with benefits?" I stormed out without saying "Um for that to work you have to be friends first." Nor did I offer that I had already tried it several times with awful results.

He hasn't called nor will he as I am fairly sure he is too afraid of my wrath to do so.

What pisses me off the most is his comment "What do you think we are doing here?" which implies that everything was leading up to that poorly executed seduction. Only a dolt would have to hear several times "I don't want men to use me for my body" and then proceed to try and use me for my body. I mean, really, how much more of a hint do you need? It means he wasn't listening to anything I said up until that point.

And interestingly now my sympathy has complete flipped. Here is this woman who financially supported her husband for five years and now he is going to cheat on her?


It makes me think that I am alone because I actually have something like honor.

Something like it.

Oh dear

So I took the GRE practice test-I scored a 670 on the verbal ( lower than I hoped)-and a 200 on the quantative reasoning! I didn't even break 1000. The shame! I'm going to have to buy some of those cd rom thingies to help me out! Anyone know a good math tutor for the GRE?

You be the judge

Ok now in the past I have rarely named named on this blog, but I have. John Yule, as you recall, I made the decision to name him because he was cheating on his girlfriend. Some others who I attempted to protect here on the blog had their girlfriends find out anyway. So here is the problem.

Should I post the name and website of the married man who made the attempt on me the other night? The Bunni who is all for justice wants to say yes, I should inform the world of this potential libertine. On the other hand, it was just an attempt, which did fail. Also, it does seem unfair to link his website here with that kind of information. After all the guy is just trying to make a living.

On the other hand, he REALLY pissed me off. And G-d knows I do not, generally, control my desire for vengance very well. So what do you think? Should I leave it be? Or post his name and no link? Or put everything up and let the public sort it out? Hmmmmmm?

Temptation Island

I admit it, I watched the last episode while I was grading papers. What was interesting to me is that the men are all saying that now they are totally ready to commit, they love their girlfriends and miss them. On the other side of the island there are two chicks, one of whom says she loves her boyfriend but thinks she "needs to work on herself" and another girl who feels that she no longer knows the man she loves.

What is particularly interesting is that when video time came around tapes of the men had much more provocative and scandalous behavior than the women. ( One video tape included conversation so explicit the girl had to watch the tape with headphones.)

So although the men say they miss their girlfriends, they are acting more flirty with the girls than the women who claim to be questioning their own relationships.

Personally I feel for the girl who said she didn't know the guy on the tape. Maybe he was acting that way because he doesn't care about this other chick and so is just saying whatever x-rated garbage is coming into his head. Maybe he really has been hiding his inner freak for fear of offending his girlfriend. But I understand her situation. Here she has been in a long term relationship with this guy she think she knows. Now that this part of her image of him has been disturbed what can she trust? What else has she been wrong about?

I'm not saying it's as dramatic as all that but I'm sure that's how it feels to her. Freud thought that the cause of depression was reality interrupting fantasy-mourning the loss of something never really aquired.

And also, a last snarky remark, the girlfriends on the show are for the most part quite beautiful. The guys are, um, well, for the most part unattractive and doltish. (The blonde one with the "hair everywhere" look-what a yutz!) Most strike me as the types of guys we would have ragged on in college as "bridge and tunnel crowd." I think the guys would be better suited if they took the time to get a make over. A decent haircut, some nice clothes, and little accent tweaking.

But deep down I want to be on Temptation Island. And I think I've provided more than enough evidence that I would be a great candidate for the show. After all I am seemingly irresistable to men who already have girlfriends or wives. Then, on the other hand, I don't know if I want to spend three weeks seducing the bridge and tunnel crowd when I can do that right here.

Well, I could at least get a good tan.

Why I hate married men today

Ok people so here we go another long story which can be summed up in two lines, a guy who I wanted to be friends with attempts to seduce me which pisses me off because he's married. When I call him on it he says he wants to be "friends with benefits" well that only works when you're friends to begin with.

Can't there be one man who doesn't try and use me just for sex? just one?

And the worst part, I wanted to help him, and all he wanted to do was help himself.

You know, for the last week everytime I saw him he kept saying "I'm such a dick." Well, he is now.

The thing that pisses me off, is we talked for like four hours but then the seduction attempt made it so clear that he hadn't really been listening. He was just looking for a way in. ( "You were just looking for a way in, any way in, and YOU NEED ME."-Kevin Spacey as Buddy Ackerman in Swimming with Sharks)

To make a short story long

So here it is, the story you have been waiting for-the story I promised you.

Now for you to understand I have to give you some back story-


I met, let's call her E, E when I was five. We had the same piano teacher. We weren't close. I became re-acquainted with her at a summer camp when I was about eleven. We became close friends and remained so through high school.

E was the type of girl who always had a boyfriend. Not a good boyfriend mind you, usually they were, well, bargain basement types. Then we went to college.

During college our relationship was under more strain. Her hypochondria shifted into overdrive. Now she had always HAD hypochondria, but it was more muted. In college I had to deal with phone calls where she would be hysterically crying. When I finally calmed her down she would say she was dying of cancer and when I asked why I would get answers like "Well, my knee hurts. It's cancer." or my personal favorite "Nothings wrong, that's how I know I am going to die." That she focused on cancer, the disease that I survived, made it very disturbing to me. I would talk her down, but then a month later I would get another phone call until finally I snapped at her about her lack of consideration. Here I was actually dealing with serious health problems (my health especially during my junior and senior year encountered a number of serious problems) and she was dealing with basically her imagination. Not that she ever helped me out when I was having health issues.

Again all through college she had boyfriends. I didn't. I didn't have one boyfriend in my entire college career, but if I complained about not having a boyfriend she would say she never had them either. Despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. If I had health problems, her hypochondria would surface. Basically she always wanted to be at the center of the pity party. And this is what eventually led me to distance myself from her.

My Father's Death

The day I found out my father died, I was on my way to E's house. She said to come over anyway, but she didn't know how to deal with the situation. She threw raisins at me as we sat on the couch, later she would admit it was because she was afraid I would fall apart. I didn't.

I stayed the night. The morning of my father's funeral E's mother tells me that I can't stay the night because she is having the house flea bombed. This is, of course, a blatant lie. It was also extremely inconvenient because we had to change our traveling plans. It was something I haven't forgotten. E hasn't forgotten it either. She has never stopped being embarassed because of it.

Later E discovered the reason for my sudden eviction was her mother found a book on Wicca among my things (what she was doing in my things I don't know). She hasn't liked me since.


After 9-11 E tracked me down and because I was in need of friendship we began chatting again. She told me she was getting married and asked me to be in her wedding party. I agreed. I should have said no, but I was happy that she asked me to be in the wedding.

Now, prior to this engagement E was engaged to someone else, a man who was apparently abusive. The relationship ended when he shattered her eardrum ( something she brings up often). Shortly after that engagement was broken ( very shortly) she became engaged to her current fiance, but she talks about her last relationship often. Something that doesn't really sit right with me.

The Travel Plans

Originally I was supposed to come up and spend the weekend with E. But then her mother, Medusa, raised her ugly head and said no way. In fact Medusa didn't even want her own daughter staying in the house. She was concerned we would dirty up the house before the party, she was particularly concerned about the bathroom. Don't ask me why, she just was.

So then I was supposed to make a three hour trip in the morning in order to attend the party and then one of the other bride's maids was going to give me a ride back. Still six hours of traveling in one day, it's a lot. E said she would check and see if I could stay friday night. She said she would let me know.

Thursday night she calls me to tell me to come in friday night. I'm not feeling well, I have a cold, and there is the hurricaine,which, honestly, I am hoping will delay the trip. I really don't want to go, but the next day I pack my bag and haul my ass to Penn Station.

And here is where the fun begins.

The first train was only delayed an hour, meaning instead of getting in at 8 I was going to get in at nine. Well, that was ok. a three hour trip lasting for hours. But the connecting train was two hours late. So I was stranded in New Haven until nine thirty. I got off at Hartford at around 10:30. I got to E's house at about 11:30.

And the whole time my nose was running and I was utterly exhausted. So I finally meet E's fiance. And he is great, he's a funny guy who is totally dedicated to E. And this upsets me, because E has become a crazy housewife.

E doesn't work. She claims part of this is due to health problems and the other reason is because she wants to practice law in NYC and so there is no point passing the bar where is currently resides (Georgia). Now she is having um serious uterine problems. The thing is that whenever I offer her quality medical care she turns it away and goes in favor of inferior docs who end up making the problem worse and then she bitches. But she still won't take my help.

There are also ALL the medications she is on for what claims is OCD. Now, I am not a shrink or a therapist, but if this girl suffers from OCD, well, it would be the strangest case I've ever seen. She's on at least three different types of medication ( xanax, celexa, and one other I wasn't familiar with) and she is also often popping other drugs including darvoset, valium, and tylenol with codeine. She often calls me to see if I have any "left over" darvoset or tylenol with codeine (she knows I refuse to take pain killers unless really in pain). She complains often that she can't get more xanax or valium because she is at the state limit ( the state sets limits for controlled substances) even though her shrink approves of it. Her bedroom looks like that of a invalid, huge bottles of drugs on her bedside table. Again on this trip after taking two xanax she asked me if I happened to have any darvoset on me because she had a sinus infection. I told her I didn't, which was true, I don't just casually carry it around. On the ride to Medusa's house, she also said she had taken some of her mother's tylenol with codeine but it was expired. I asked her how she knew it was expired, "Well I took four of them and I feel fine."

The Party

E showed up looking like Elizabeth Taylor, and not when she was young. She had these huge sunglasses, which she wore inside for now reason. She had applied her make up with what looked like a shakey hand. Her liner was way too thick and it was uneven. The colors she chose were totally wrong for her skin tone ( bright pink eyeshadow with a dark think charcoal grey liner). She did the usual "Long Island" chick lipstick (a light lipstick color with dark lip liner-which I always thought look weird). And to top off her ensemble what she calls her Gucci bondage shoes. (All I can think of is Sarah Jessica Parker in the First Wives Club- "All I want is a little bit of ambiance and a little classic eternal good taste.")
For some reason, everyone at the party wanted to ask me about my job. Not just "Oh what grade do you teach?" which always grates on my nerves, but also E's father insisted in finding out how much I make and how much my apartment costs. Then there were all the relatives. Which as I said I was happy because I was the thinnest person there, E included. But certainly it is odd when I see other old friends from high school with two children or married ( or both). Thus old friend of E's who was always in love with her showed up with his wife and two kids. My teeth almost fell out of my head. That this guy was married never mind had found someone he could procreate with was beyond comprehension. And here I couldn't even get a date for the weekend.

And to some degree it was sad seeing some of the other old friends-C and W. These two had never left CT in fact almost none of the relatives had and I realized how unusual it was that out of all of them I had made it to NYC and had a "real career" as opposed to C who works in a back ( as a cashier) or W, who I'm not sure does anything.

E on the other hand does nothing. If I could sit home all day I would be writing. I would work on stories and essays and send them out. What does she do? She watched the TNT daily line up. "Yep, I can stay tuned to TNT and pretty much be happy all day" and then she went through and named all the shows ( Law and Order, NYPD Blue, and Charmed). She then commanded her fiance "The last season of Buffy is out. We need to get it on DVD." her fiance said "If I had known what an obsession it would become when I got you the first one..." Meanwhile E is onto the next thing.

Now seeing all these happy families, all these people married and with kids, who fit in, I was getting depressed. And E noticed and she tries to bend it to her and how awful her life is because she doesn't have a job and her fiance works as a mattress salesman. I'm like "Uh we are here celebrating your nuptials and you want me to feel sorry for you?"

In fact for most of the party E was sullen and depressed. (Maybe one xanax too many?) She complained about her parents, who were hosting the party, she complained about her fiance, she complained about the other bridesmaids, she complained about the weather, she complained about her shoes, really there wasn't much she didn't complain about.

The bride's maid who was supposed to give me a ride didn't leave her place until noon, which meant she would arrive about the time the party would be wrapping up. She arrived around five. She missed the toast ( actually now that I think about it she is technically the maid of honor-and the color of the dresses have been changed three times to suit her). We left at seven. She blasted Prince ( good) and Def Leppard ( no I'm not kidding) on the way home. She then dropped me off with no warning at the LIRR because she had to get ready to go out. Where was she going? Brooklyn. (She could have dropped me off on the way.) So I hd to take a train to Penn station and then take a cab bck and then haul my sick tired ass home.

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