Fun With Paper Grading Elves

So after I get the mail order husband situation well in hand, and my floor is nicely vacuumed and all light bulbs changed, I have yet another part of the staff to make my bunni empire complete. As a child, I heard these stories about elves that would cobble shoes at night. Where are these elves now? I guarantee you they aren't cobbling Manolo Blahniks late in the night. I need to bring these elves into the 21st century-give them a little word processing training and a copy of The Elements of Style and set them up reading the 700 (no joke) pages of student writing I have in piles around my apartment. ( Somehow I came up with the idea that sorting the papers into piles makes it a less daunting task to grade them. Really it just allows me to waste time organizing and re-organizing sorting systems. By class, by gender, by how many comma errors I see on the first page.) My cat loves these piles. She regards them in the same way I regarded piles of leaves as a child-great fun to jump on and roll around in. Occasionally she chews on one, but among the other critiques I could level against these papers, they also taste bad.

I should be much farther along in the paper grading process if it wasn't for this twit and his far from popular book. ( Oh who am I kidding. If it wasn't him, it would have been distracted by old reruns of Law and Order or watching the mold in my refrigerator become sentient or reading old copies of Genetic Psychology monographs Weekly.) Part of the problem is they are boring enough to peel the beige paint off the walls. After about two papers, my stomach wants to leap up and strangle eyes so as to prevent the continuing horror. My students complain about their boring read assignments-they have no idea. Last year, I had students actually correct each others papers. At the end, one student looked at me and said, "Are they all like this?" I told her indeed some of them were worse. "That's horrible," she exclaimed, "I had no idea." No horror film yet has been able to induce the disgust I am overwhelmed with when I receive the department mandated "final research" papers.

However, elves could solve this whole problem. My research ( uh I read the pink fairytale book as a child) has revealed that elves are both industrious and easy to store. They are even low cost as stories indicate that the recipient of such elves need only be "virtuous." ( Ok I would have to work on that, but if someone would take care of the grading situation I would have lots of extra time to dedicate to describing pornography to the blind.)

Lawn gnomes need not apply.

Mail Order Husbands

It's been a rough day. It was rainy out. Your hair just didn't look right no matter how many products you put in. You had a huge run in your stocking, which no one pointed out. You spilled coffee on those important prospectus sheets. Your boss yelled. Your co-workers chortled suspiciously in your presence. You got your period and stained your favorite skirt. You finally made it home. As soon as you open the door, you smell a delicious stew on the stove. A martini is placed in your hand as your suit jacket is removed. As you settle into your comfy chair, strong hands give you a shoulder massage before moving down your legs to remove your shoes and massage your feet. You fall asleep to the soft comforting purring rrrs of your mail order husband, knowing that you will awaken to a clean house and a hot somewhat delicious meal. Log on to and find the foreign man of your dreams.

At the very beginning of this blog, I actually had the idea of mail order husbands. I thought surely there had to be SOME company out there offering them. I mean, there are certainly enough men who want to get into the country, and there are certainly enough American women who will do just about anything to have a wedding. Strangely the massive research team here at bunniblog has not been able to discover any such company.

But clearly there is a viable mail order husband market. So we here at bunniblog think the time is right to create a mail order husband on demand company. I think the company could be called Mail Men. Available suitors would be able to post pictures and qualifications online, while would-be brides could post advertisements for specific qualifications (and perhaps a possible "price" for hard to find or high in demand suitors). Of course, the site would charge women a nominal fee to become members ( probably less than and take a small percentage if a "match" is made.

Of course, marriage is a big commitment, and not all of us gals are ready ( no matter what you men think) to legally bind ourselves to some twit with whom we don't even share a common language. But this being a capitalist society, a side business of Mail Men wouldn't just be mail order husbands, but a rent to own type deal.

Anyone want to buy in?

What This Girl Wants

All I want is a Russian greencard husband who is over five nine, so he can reach everything in my apartment, and can vacuum. That's it. Everything else is negotiable, including the sex. Sex I can get other places. Good conversation, again, totally taken care of. The burned out light bulb in my apartment that I can't reach even on a step stool, that is a different story. Special consideration given to men who can mix martinis and give good shoulder rubs.

Please send resumes to

Can anyone tell me why I do these things?

Because I'm an idiot. Well, I already knew that. Why is that unless I enslave some poor guy over the weekend, or have someone already enslaved I don't feel like I've really accomplished something? What is about male attention that I seem to absolutely require? I have friends. I have more reading than I know what to do with, but if I don't have some guy calling and asking for a date, I spend all weekend feeling like a failure as a human being. What the hell kind of sense does that make?

I was chatting with Rasputin's ex-wife over the weekend ( we got pedicures together-how wierd is it to get pedicures with the ex wife of a guy you once fooled around with?) and she is totally independent of her boyfriend. In fact, he suggested they move in together, and she said no. (Although after five years with rasputin, I would probably be pretty wary of moving in with someone too. ) To me, that's amazing. Saying no to a man's request for a deeper commitment in my department constitutes nothing less than divine inspiration. Particularly since all the women I work with are terribly desperate. But I digress, what I was going to say is that after telling her about a little bit about my last vacation ( not the scandalous bit, but the being away with my family bit) she said I absolutely had to go on a vaction for myself.

Which since I have six weeks of vacation coming up isn't such a bad idea. But where would I go? I was thinking before the author of this book blew me off ( and it's not even an original title-as two other books- one in 91 and the other in 96 have the same title*) that I might go to palm beach. Well so much for that idea. Or maybe I should go anyway. But really aside from paris, I can't think of where I should go. I don't like going places alone, I much prefer to go someplace with a goal and a travelling companion.


* I have shown restraint here and not linked to his website directly nor put his name on this website in order to "protect" him in a way sort of. Also I haven't posted any incriminating details about his behavior here except that he blew me off, which is true. However, I reserve the right to divulge more details later.

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