18 Days

18 days until my birthday. The last birthday of my twenties. I officially have 378 days to get married or I be forced to marry my gay friend's younger also gay brother. ( A bet I made in college. Perhaps the reason I wisely no longer drink Midori Sours-can't believe I drank such a "girly" drink)


I have two wishes. Not big wishes. One of them is on december 20th I want to get twenty comments on this blog. That is my dream people. So teach your cat to type. Write a comment under an assumed name. By whatever means necessary but on my birthday post, I want those 20 comments ( notice I didn't even go for 29-which will be my age-but rather my birthday-20-as always we here at bunniblog try to be accomodating)

My second wish-I want a boyfriend. I'm not talking about marriage-I'm not talking about bottles of champagne and trips to the bahamas-I'm not even talking about moving in together-I'm talking about a guy to lounge on my couch while we watch "Pitch Black" again while eating chinese take out-I'm talking about a guy who actually calls not just for sex, but just to ask me how my day is going-I'm talking about a guy whose shirts I can steal and whose butt I can pinch while I wait for the six train-I'm talking about a guy who will read aloud to me in bed-someone to snuggle with under the blankets when it is snowing outside-someone to tickle me when I am in a bad mood-someone who can argue with me and win-someone who can drink martinis and snark with the best of them-is that so much to ask?

No? Good. Cause I have 18 days to find him.
The Ethics of Disclosure

The Cult of Steve has linked to me and placed a question about listing the full names of SOME people on the men who haven't called listed and questioned my ethics( He implied it was perhaps a case of me not HAVING the full name as opposed to choosing to expose only certain individuals). Well, I don't think Steve bothered to read some of these entries, he might understand why I have a men who don't call list. IF he had even quickly read over some of Israel entries he might have begun the figur eout why I choose disclosure in some cases, but not all. With Israel, here is a man who referred to me as his girlfriend, made a variety of promises including vacation plans for the break, AND paying for my grad school, a man who told me I was important to him, and then vanished without an excuse. Not even a "Um, it's over, deal with it" email. Eric, well, we don't need to go into that. With John Gargano HE PROPOSED MARRIAGE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD-that doesn't warrant a call back anymore? With other men I have given nicknames or just a first name because their lack of response didn't warrant full or even partial exposure. But in each case I carefully examine the merits of why I should expose a person. In some cases I have been very torn and I have resorted to some rather sneaky ways of exposing individuals in more subtle ways ( for those o fyou who remember the Married Man and Volta incidents).

In addition, Steve didn't read too far because he questioned the veracity of my statement "I haven't slept with all these men." Admittedly I slept with some of them. I slept with Eric and the Beast, but not with Israel or Sean the Hot French Mover (not for any lack of desire0trust me-I truly wish I HAD slept with Israel-I stay up late nights pining about Israel-I wake up from dreams about Israel drooling damn it ). I haven't been exactly shy about being upfront about my sexual exploits. Hell I admittedly have the male harem, but still I didn't sleep with all of those men. In addition, there ARE men I HAVE slept with who have had the decency to call back. And a big thank you to them. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Keep up the good work.

In most cases the people I write about here know about the blog and therefore if they have any objection they can contact me directly. I have forwarded possible boyfriends and ex boyfriends links so that they can see what is posted, and so far NOT A ONE HAS OBJECTED. ( in fact some looked forward to see what I would say about them on the blog and were hurt to find themselves not mentioned) Now maybe it's because they think I won't listen, but I haven't gotten one irate phone call, one how dare you do this, NOT ONE. Which leads me to believe that THEY don't have a problem with it. However, if they have a problem they can let me know.

Notice that the sidebar states exactly what it is-men who didn't call-not men who raped kittens or men who refused to give me a kidney or men who cause cancer-for crickeys sake.

And by the way, if I led a man on, and totally acted like he was the man for me and I'll definately call you tomorrow and bring roses and champagne and then dropped him without so much as a "By the way it's over dear" or "you know my ex boyfriend just moved back into town" then I would have no problem with that man posting my full name on his blog. Because I, at the very least, no matter how cruel and detached have had the decency to call and say it's over.

Here ends my rant.
Complicating Hydrogen

Today, for the first time in months, we had a staff meeting. Now we should have been having staff meetings all along, but I didn't really miss them. It wasn't like we were complaining "When will we all be able to get together and discuss complicated issues and come to know discernible conclusion except that we are all frustrated by each other?" So I admit I forgot what an absolute crime against humanity staff meetings are. And staff meetings where we have to decide on essay questions, well, it is like trying to get gun control legislation through congress.

There are only about eight teachers who teach at my level. When we have to agree on final questions (because some genius decided we have to have a "common final"), it's as simple as eight teachers in a room voting for four questions out of a selection of 16. Think about the math, eight people, four questions out of a vast 16 question selection. It's not cold fusion. It's not Newtonian physics. Hell it isn't even freshmen algebra. My cat could vote on questions.

It took an hour. And as always, despite the "democratic system"-the questions with the most votes wins, there is one particularly teacher who has to object once the questions have been voted upon. Generally, she objects to one of the questions on a variety of grounds. Once her personal criteria are met, she then moves onto the next question. Now this wastes a huge amount of time and creates a lot of hostility. After all, basically she is using emotional blackmail to get her way ( like me this teacher is NOT tenured-she has the same class load as I do and is teaching the same courses). Sometimes her tactics have failed. In some cases, she became so demanding, the head of department basically came to the conclusion many of us came to years ago, that Enfant Terrible's complaints can not be satisfied and therefore her objections got thrown out in gratuity ( YES!) unfortunately this disregard didn't become policy (hiss).

Today she didn't argue too long about the questions that got approved, but she labored to have a certain set of questions for her students. Right because her forty students should get better treatment than say my forty? The rest of us are very disengaged with who gets what questions. Most of us feel the voted on questions are all fair and therefore who gets what is irrelevant, but Enfant Terrible seems to have some sort of emotional satisfaction invested in getting the question SHE wants. Now I ask you, what the hell goes on in a person's life that she thinks to herself, "my emotional satisfaction is dependent on these two questions?" Don't these people have lives? Really, it makes you understand why the alcoholic profs are generally preferred-because at they are, at least, relaxed (maybe because they aren't even conscious).

There was other mishigas, but I don't wish to bore you ( too late). But after leaving this whole process, one of the other profs said to me on my way tot he elevator, "Is it me or could this group complicate hydrogen?" My response, "Well, of course they would object to hydrogen as it has the sound 'I' in it, and we all know that first person singular pronouns aren't acceptable in formal writing."
Proposed Moratorium

Some wandering student left a copy of their AM New York, currently a free daily newspaper, in my office while I was at home drinking the Jerry Garcia. I was looking over the first page while I tried to organize myself this morning and spotted this comment from out invisible mayor "Since 9/11 the statue [of Liberty] has been closed due to security concerns, in some sense the terrorists have won..."

Enough, we have reached total saturation with the "terrorists have already won" rhetoric. I mean even companies like Taco Bell and Budweiser have learned to pull an ad campaign or a slogan when it goes over the edge from "really popular" to "downright annoying." ( If only the show Full House learned that one a little sooner. Actually was Full House EVER popular? Is that why it ran on FX for so long?) The time has come to get a couple of ad execs together or maybe even a thesaurus for the love of g-d and come up with something that has some vague tinge of originality.

That's all I ask for from my patriotic propaganda, just a hint of originality.

Please?
Great Expectations

Well after that big intro, there was NO road kill story this year. I know you're all very disappointed. In fact, there was very little drama of any kind. I stayed true to the red wine rule, and added a little extra to the tradition ( the pre dinner nap), which managed to keep my contact and therefore my annoyance to a limit.

I have spent this holiday realizing how much I truly am an only child, how much I eschew the company of others. While my relatives were in the living room telling stories ( who knows maybe I simply missed the road kill story this year) I stayed in the kitchen reading. I had no reason to stay away, except I had no desire to join them. I spent most of the holiday enjoying my mother's dsl or finishing the Sorrows of Young Werther and moving on to the Collective Memory by Maurice Halbwachs.

The trip to upstate for many reasons was confusing. The days cooking, the people I met while I was there with mother, the restaurants and stores made me think that maybe I had cut country life short when I was younger. I thought of all my friends who never moved out of CT, all the people who had never lived anywhere but upstate and I wondered about living that kind of life, had I made a mistake coming to NYC all those years ago? Should I have stayed and had a quiet life? I saw so many dynamic people who had moved there, and I wondered, that the life I seek here and do not find might be there.

But then, the last day was quiet, and the depression that always descends upon me in the country finally emerged. When I realized that I couldn't just walk across the street to visit the argentinian guitarists at Rohr's or meet Bishop for a drink a F's or run to the deli for Carr's water table crackers at three in the morning, well that put an end to my dreams of more pastoral life.