Parking Karma

I heard this woman talking in my hall way this morning about how she has excellent parking karma. She , it seems, can always find a fabulous parking space. I just thought that was a great concept-some sort of discreet karma. Just having like shopping cart karma or cell phone karma that doesn't bleed onto anything.

Every once in a while I get into the office just as the elevator is opening. The elevators in my building are really slow and so I always take this as a sign that it will be a good day. But maybe it was really all those times I held the elevator for others built up into a moment of good elevator karma.

Hmmmmmm.......
Bunni Love

I know I should blog about my date on thursday. And the one I had friday. Oh and the one I had today for brunch. And the one I'm going to have tonight.

All with the same guy.

But here's the thing. On a certain level I don't want to write about it. Part of is I'm afraid to write about in case people are like "Yikes, that doesn't sound good." On the other level, it's like I want to keep it to myself. There is also the issue that he doesn't know about the blog. And even I wrote only about the good things, which at the beginning there only seem to be good things, I don't know how he would feel about it. And I actually care about that in his case.

The good problem

But here's the complication. I have, well, I have my stable of men for, ahem, more basic needs-all of whom are currently on hold. ( John Yule stopped by thursday night and I sent him away.)

Then I have the three men who are wooing me.

Call me Israel

The one I have been seeing for the last three days is the Israeli photographer. He didn't kiss me until last night. A gentleman who can converse on a variety of topics, so far is taking care of me very nicely, AND has an amazing body. The amazing thing is this guy wants to take care of everything. He's got everything to taken care of. He found out I need a math tutor and he's setting me up with someone who lives on my block who is studying mathematics at columbia. He also cooks and so he told me whenever I need food while correcting papers he'll have food sent to me special delivery "Oh yes, it will come with a nice plate-even hot. It will be ready for you. All you have to do it eat."

How can you not love a man like this?

Them Duke Boys

But there's another guy who is wooing me. From Virginia no less. Initially I was more interested in him than the ISraeli, but now the tables are turning. Let's call him Luke Duke.

Luke is another one of those " I want to take care of you" guys. I sent him an email about how tired and achy I was on thursday. On friday I get an email from him, all it says is "It sounds like bunni needs me to come home to a home cooked meal and have a nice shoulder massage."

Yep, I could deal with that .

On the other hand, he is in the Army and he is in Virginia. Which is a definate handi cap. In addition, in terms of intelligence, I so can take him. Which is another handi cap.

Ziggy Stardust

I have saved the least for last. I have traded emails with him only. He is great looking-he plays in a band which is cutting a debut album and for a real job he is a graphic designer. Sounds exciting huh. But really, his emails are fairly boring. I'm holding on thinking that maybe he just isn't good with the written word. If I don't meet him soon he is going to disqualify himself from the running.

So there you go, the best problem a girl could have-three attractive intelligent men wooing her.

Feel the karma, baby.
The end of the world is nigh

I know, I know, just when the Yankees won, but people it's going to happen.

Why the sudden doom? Well I just got back from a date.com date with an Israeli photographer and IT WAS FABULOUS.

I'm too exhausted to post the details now, but they will be forth coming. It's not sordid. I got a kiss on the cheek and a promise for dinner tomorrow.

Either this guy has the skins of young children drying in his attic OR this good date is one of the signs of the apocalypse.

Take your pick.

I can't tell you how excited I sudden am for tomorrow night.
Rules for First Dates with Bunni

Although I have in the past scattered rules for dating on this site, I thought I might offered a quick list of dos and donts, all of them compiled from actual dates-

1. Don't bother talking up a second call/second date if you have no intention of making it-you wouldn't do it for a business meeting, don't do it to me-If it was a decent date that doesn't bear repeating a "I've had a great time" and hug are just fine

2. You asked me out so the burden of planning the date is on you. I will accept or rather enjoy being presented with options-ie we could go listen to jazz at the Blue Note or go see "The Exonerated", but at least have some ideas. Don't just call up and go "Um so what do you want to do?"

3. Don't hit on other girls while I am still on the date with you. Or if you must, at least wait until I go to the bathroom.

4. Don't ask yourself into my apartment. If I wanted you there, I would have invited you in already.

5. Don't make me say no more than once. If you ask me to come to your place, and I say no 15 times, probably you should take the hint.

6. Don't spend the entire date talking about your past awful relationships.

7. Don't spend the entire date talking about your familial problems.

* 6 and 7 both go to the "don't treat me like a psychoanalyst taking a case history" rule

8. Don't joke about getting me drunk and taking advantage of me. So so cliched.

9. If I tell you not to call me "shorty", don't call me "shorty". Even as a joke.

10. Do bring up that you have a girlfriend/wife BEFORE you ask me out. As one guy said before the end of the first date "I probably should have mentioned that before." Yes, yes you should have.

Did I forget anything?

Banned Bunni

According to Smitten, she has been denied access to my site via her computer at work because of the uh explicit language on it.

Yes, I think we all agree that I am foul mouthed little thing that needs to be silenced. Right up there with the Tropic of Cancer and Fanny Hill. Because no one ever uses "dirty words" to communicate important ideas or subjects. Nope.

Charles Rembar would probably be interested to know how wrong he was when he penned his book The End of Obscenity.

I do wonder if Smitten's employers are using the 2,443 dirty words identified by George Carlin. ( Carlin's site also reproduces highlights from the actual Supreme Court decision about his "Filthy Words" monologue.)
Rules for Men

Billy posted Rules for Men this weekend, but I think some of his rules transcend gender-for example this one is a good one to apply to the general population:

5. Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one: Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work! Obvious hints do not work! Just say it!

There are others, however, that accurately pinpoint gender differences, and hysterically funny:

17. ALL men see in only 16 colours, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a colour. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.

That's OK because I have no idea about organized sports...period. I am in a foggy way aware of their existence, but that's about it.
Disposable Pussy

"There's not much upstairs, but what a staircase." -Some beach film from the 50's that I have never been able to identify.

So a friend of mine calls me last night asking me to come down town to a bar because his girl just dumped him. I'm exhausted and all I want to do is sleep, BUT he sounds in a bad way and being little miss I responsible for everyone's emotional well being, I hop a cab and go to join him.

By the time I get there he has wrapped himself around this drunken beyond belief hostess cupcake of a human being. She is gorgeous, but she also has the intelligence of a tube sock. She keeps repeating what he says over and over again. He'll make a joke and ten minutes later she'll repeat the punchline and laugh.

Everytime he stops making out with her to talk to me she says she is going to leave and so he feels the need to make out with her again. So I spend about two hours watching them tongue kiss. Finally I say I am leaving. He waves.

About an hour later I get a call on my cellphone.

Friend: Did you get home alright?

Bunni: Yes.

Friend: You seem angry.

Bunni: Well I am angry. I haul ass to help you out and you obviously had no need of me. You spent all that time making out with that girl.

Friend: Yeah, I don't even like her.

Bunni: You made out with her and dissed me and you don't even like her?

Friend: Well, she's not that bright, but she's so hot.

Bunni: It sounds awfully quiet, you still at the bar?

Friend: No, I'm at her place.

Bunni: You're at her place and you're calling me. What the hell are you thinking?

Friend: I'm thinking I can't find my sock.

Bunni: You lost your socks?

Friend: Well they are around here someplace.

Bunni: So you fucked this girl you don't like.

Friend: Yeah.

Bunni: It's at moments like this I wonder why I have male friends.

Friend: So you want to meet me for a drink?

At which point I gave him a taste of the whip.

The worst part is from the way this girl was looking at my friend she was really into him. She is going to be waiting by the phone for his call and wondering what happened ( assuming she even remembers the evening).

Not that I am the most respectable girl. Have I gone to bed with men simply because they were gorgeous? You bet, but as one of my therapists said "It's ok for people to use each other for their bodies as long as they both acknowledge that is what is going on." And here is where he violated my general principle-when body usage is in play there must be mutual understanding.

At the Pleasure Chest, a well known "erotica" store in NYC, they sell a variety of rubber vaginas. There are the ones molded from porn stars ( which I always thought was wierd-knowing that some guy is being intimate with a rubberized part of yourself) and there are the "electric" ones. ( Comedian Robert Schimmel wondered about the safety of such a devise-cum being liquid and the electric vagina seemed to be a recipe for disaster to him.) My fave was the "Personal Secretary", the box featured a woman dressed as Monica Lewinsky witha cigar in her mouth with the slogan "Let her take your dictation."

I always thought such devices were a joke, something a few men tried, but weren't outstandingly popular.

Now I understand why there are so many different types. Because even when dealing with rubberized vaginas, men want variety. Bascially men just want pussy, lots of different kinds, regardless of the person it is attached to.

I shake my head in shame
The living definition of insanity

Well I have spared you all details of morgue monday, as I couldn't even find humor in it. But here are some sad self revelations.

Not but four days ago I told someone I couldn't even pretend to hope to fall in love.

And yet, if this was true, would I accept a date for saturday with an Israeli news photographer?

Would I be flirting with a South African guy who promises to take me to see House of the Dead on wednesday?

Would I be sending daring emails to a guy who lives in Virginia? VIRGINIA?

Would I be going twice a week to see the hot Argentine guitarists?

No, I would have pulled my profile from both dating sites. I wouldn't bother to leave my apartment.

Clearly this does not bode well for the bunni.
ANd now some bad poetry for the two hot guys on the 6 train this morning

Both with that clean Jack Kerouac look, faded jeans, not dirty or tattered, just faded,
professionally.

Both have well kept hands, short nails, clean, buffed,
manicured.

I try to picture them sitting amongst the teenage girls getting tips and the mothers getting fills in their silk wraps.
Trying to look cool in their clean tailored denim.

one blonde, the other dark,
the blonde reading a book, gets off the train without lifting his eyes,
he keeps reading as he walks down the platform,
a trick I perfected in childhood,
I cross streets while reading still

The dark one stays on the train.
He has a list,
it looks more like a spider web dipped in ink and pressed to paper

These two will perhaps be the only reason why I am glad I came to work this morning.