More Theories About Atlantis
So the upside down Ruskie was back last night to offer some last minute coaching about my trip. Somehow we again got onto the topic of Atlantis.
Upside Down Ruskie:
OK as I said this doesn't leave this room. You can't tell anyone. (pause) Actually, you can tell anyone you want. No one will believe you so it doesn't really matter. But still be warned.
I figured this out when I was seventeen. Let me tell you, it's amazing. The evidence is all out there, it's in all of these natural history museums but no one, no one, sees it because they don't want to. But there was a separate race: the red race.
Bunni: The red race?
They are not really a separate race. They are a separate species. They have a different cephalic index. Their muscles are shaped different, more square than round. They have no ridge between forehead and nose. And of course there are the other qualities I mentioned before, they have green eyes and red hair.
Bunni: Like the Irish?
UDR: Exactly like the Irish. See I knew you would understand. Atlantis was close to Ireland, so when Atlantis sank, the few survivors were mainly in Ireland. Some in Scotland. But that is why I know you are one of the survivors. You are half Irish. You have freckles.
Bunni: I have a normal cephalic index.
UDR: Well that's what intermarriage does. You see, there are no pure Atlanteans anymore. The best you can get is like me, one eighth. All the great geniuses of the world are at least one eighth atlantean. They were very advanced. Not technologically, like us, but biologically. They were about breeding.
Bunni: You mean like eugenics.
UDR: Yes, kind of, but they went too far-like the Tower of Babel, and for this G-d sent a flood.
Bunni: You mean the flood in Genesis?
UDR: Yes.
Bunni: Wait in Genesis, there is a section about the sons of heaven and the daughters of Earth co-mingling and producing the nephilim, a race descended of angels and humans. So what you are saying is the Atlanteans are the nephilim. But they trespassed too far into "G-d's territory" with their eugenics program of breeding a perfect fusion of man and angel. So G-d sent the flood, and the survivors were mainly stranded in Ireland. So the Irish are really the remnants of an angelic order.
UDR: You got it. But of course you do, you are one of us.I recognized it about you instantly. That's where your temper, your intelligence, and yes even your sex drive come from. You are Atlantean. Your sense of humor that you think is Jewish, it isn't. It's another throwback to that race.
Bunni: And this makes sense to you?
UDR: Perfectly. It makes sense to you too, but you won't admit it.
Bunni: You know, you are the only person I know who is so crazy you make me doubt my sanity.
More Personality Observations by Upside Down Ruskie
OK so we know I am bit pent up, and I have a confession to make UDR have a kind of unique relationship where he gives me pleasure of a kind. He refuses to sleep with me. Him, the resident Cat Daddy of 85th street. Oh didn't I forget to mention for all his crazy antics UDR is always in high demand by the ladies. I can't seduce a ladies man, people. He goes down on everything and the Titanic, EXCEPT FOR ME. It's one of the signs of the apocalypse.
I digress.
He always gives a different reason, but I suspect the real reason is instinctive self preservation. I was realizing last night I have a kind of Medea streak in me. The type of girl to burn down a house even while she remains trapped inside it herself if it will hurt her intended target. That's me. And for all his nuttiness, his true talent is a kind of instinctive genius about what women to woo and what women to befriend.
However he will give me pleasure. So he was giving me a backrub which led to, AHEM, other things. And I said to him, "I know you won't sleep with me, but why won't you let me give you pleasure?"
And here was the response. You might want to sit down.
UDR: You don't know this yet, you are virtue incarnate.
Bunni: Let me get this straight. You aren't going to allow me to pleasure you because I am too innocent and pure?
UDR: That's it exactly.
Bunni: And you aren't kidding?
UDR: I told you , you don't know it yet, but the truth is you are virtue. You are generous and open minded. You are caring and sweet. You sell yourself as this cynical jaded, self absorbed bitch, and don't get me wrong you have had some stunning moments of bitchery. You are exceedingly self absorbed, but you have a big heart. You are really a very sweet girl. And yes, you are innocent. You can't believe how innocent you are. All of this talk about how disconnected you are, how unconcerned you are about others, but the truth is you love people. You really do have a child like love of people and I will not take it from you.
Bunni: So on top of being the descendent of an angelic race, I am now saddled with being the living incarnation of virtue? Am I at least eligible for health care with that?
UDR: You laugh, but one of the first things you told me was you can't change what you are. You can hide, you can pretend, but in the end, your nature always wins out. You don't want to be what you are, I believe that. You try not to be, but that is what you are.
Bunni: You know, I hate it when you quote me back to myself.
Bye, Bye Bunni
So I am getting my act together for my departure. In fact, I won't be posting again until sept 1st I suspect ( and just when my readership was picking up again). If I post here while I am in France, I would take that as a very bad sign. Basically, I have lots of links to other blogs here, go enjoy 'em AND THEN ALL Y'ALL BETTER COME BACK HERE and read about my fabulous adventures, or , at the very least, more fun with lost civilizations and biblical allusion with UDR.
The odd thing about going away is suddenly appreciating all the things here I won't have. I was at my favorite Irish pub two nights ago having a pint and being crazy and I realized, "I won't have this in Paris." There won't be the two coffee houses and the constant affection of my cat. There won't even be the constant sty of my apartment to drive me out of the house each day.
Advice to People Giving Advice to Travelers
OK first off if another person goes, "You're to Paris BY YOURSELF? Alone? Wow you're brave" I am going to smack them. Really, I am an only child. I have an apartment by myself in NYC. I dine alone in restaurants. I go out alone to bars. I am sure I can handle Paris by myself. Personally I am more worried about how the French are going to handle me than how I am going to handle the French. So if you know someone who is going to travel alone please PLEASE don't say "You are so brave." It's not Afghanistan, people, it's Paris.
Also everyone is shocked I'm not packed yet. I am bringing one small bag. Everything else I can get there. I'm sure I can handle going to a french pharmacy and buying toothpaste or nylons should I forget them. But people think I need to be packed a week in advance. Personally, I am bringing some books and four outfits and the rest I am going to get there. But my friends act like not packing three bags for a nine day trip is heresy. I mean, where the hell do they think I am going? Uzbekistan? So one bag is reasonable. And it will be packed sunday while I am in the throes of the "oh my g-d when exactly did this seem like a good idea?" panic.
"Don't disappoint me, princess."
So I am going. UDR has given me express orders, "Go. You can not 'screw up' a trip to Paris. Be lazy. Walk around. Have wine. Have coffee. Watch the sunset. Do not be in a hurry. Don't spend all day in museums. Go and walk in the park. Stroll around Marais and Rue de Rivoli. Nightcaps are very important. Go to Saint Michel and just see who is there. Open yourself up to Paris, and she will love you. I envy you so much. You are going to be giddy with delight." He took my face in his hands, "Don't disappoint me, princess. Go. Paris will see what you are, and she will take care of you."

Be a Slut: A Straight Man's Advice to Bunni
Thursday night I'm out at my usual haunt hanging out with the usual suspects. My friend Bouncer Joe ( who is actually a very sweet guy who works for the government during the week and only bounces one night a week) gave me the following advice about gay Paris:
Be a slut. I mean be safe, whatever, but it's all about no judgment. Listen, what exactly is there to stop you? You want to come back thinking "If only I had done Jean Paul" No fucking way. You want sex. Go get it. And get some for me. In fact, get some for everybody in the this bar. You got it. You work it. Be a slut. Fuck everything. Don't think. If there is even a question in your mind, "Should I?" then you should. Go ahead. And if it's bad, well then, just don't tell us. Come back and pretend to be that prim English teacher that you do in class. But I'm serious. Be a slut. Screw everything with a beret and an accent.
Now I'm slightly intrigued by why Bouncer Joe suddenly thought it was necessary to encourage me to be a slut. Perhaps my sudden "dry spell" has caused him to think that a minor readjustment in standards ( ie the complete lack of any) might help. Or maybe he just wants me to be little Mlle Mauvaise Lapine.
The Fall of American Values
"I was only blogging for, what, less than two weeks?" she says. "Some people with blogs are never going to get famous, and they've been doing it for, like, over a year. I feel bad for them."
"She's a next-generation Monica, still snapping her thong and gabbing to the girls, only more cynical: free of romantic illusions about powerful men who are going to leave their wives. She's a real-life, "Sex and the City"-style Samantha who says sex is pure sport. She is an American uber-individualist... "
This is what the Washington Post has to say about a woman who became famous for writing an x-rated sex blog ( I wonder if Bob Woodward feels the same way about his writing career). And what no one seems to notice is that essentially what all of this means is that we continue to send the message to girls to fuck their way to the top. ( In the words of Jane Seymore, "It would be kind of silly to fuck my way to the bottom, wouldn't it?")
Now it may seem odd to post this so close to the slutty advice of my friend, but there is a difference. There is a difference in having sex because, well, if it is done right it's better than chocolate covered pizza and then writing to share the love, if you will. I'm not going to whore myself in Paris to "get ahead."
And the day I snap my thong at anyone is really one of the harbingers of the apocalypse. It just goes back to what I saying about a year ago at this time. It is rewarding bad taste to give this woman a book deal. And I don't mean like John Waters bad taste. I mean like Mr Roper from Three's Company bad taste.
The Little Mermaid
So my crazy hand standing Russian friend was over this weekend trying to make me feel better about my trip to Paris and he comes up with this:
I'm going to tell you something very secret. Something you can't tell anyone. I tried to write it once and it just didn't happen. It was a warning. I wasn't supposed to tell. People aren't ready.
You know about Atlantis, right? They were a very advanced people. I'm not going to get into the culture right now, but they got what they deserved. The people of Atlantis had red highlights in their hair and were green eyed with freckles (bunni's commentary: sounds a lot like the Irish,no?). They were so advanced they had outposts all over the world, satellites, so when Atlantis sank there were all these Atlanta's left here. Of course, they have married and propagated with the rest of us. But you can see it still, in some people like you. You have red highlights so your ancestors were survivors.They were born to be travelers, they are always looking at the ocean for their lost home, the home that will never come back.
Bunni responds:
So I'm supposed to accept that the reason I don't fit in anywhere has nothing to do with my physical disability, or anomalous appearance. It has nothing to do with my IQ or education. It has nothing to do with having a depressive paranoid alcoholic father. It is really because I am descended from the survivors of Atlantis.
Upside Down Ruskie:
You see, you are not ready for the truth.

    This page is powered by 
Blogger. Isn't yours?