Bunniblog

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Anybody on why we might be screwed up as a society? Anyone?

When exactly did dressing a dog up in a costume transform from being a violation of the geneva convention into socially embraced convention? Not that there is anything morally wrong with dressing up your dog as a hula girl ( although the fake coconuts on the non existant chest of a dog do look pathetic). But I want to go on the record here. I've owned dogs and cats and never have I dressed any of pets in a Halloween costume. I did dress up one of my cats in doll clothing, but it wasn't halloween. ( My mother helped. She took, in retrospect, mildly sadistic glee in my cat's dislike of wearing a pinafore.)

Perhaps my averse re-action to pet halloween costumes comes from my own trouble with costumes. As we know, I planned to go as Athena this year. I made an authentic peplos from a $14.00 sheet I bought at K-mart. When I laced it around my waist, well I looked less like Botticelli's Aphrodite than an albino sausage attempting burst out of my casing. So I decided that I needed to change tactics. I took my deep red sheet with gold trim and turned it into a toga. I must admit it is a very impressive look. Add to that the crappy plastic helmet,I bought at Halloween Adventure, the child's sword, yes I bought a child's sword because, let's be honest, a regular adult sword on me would be too long and drag on the floor. I couldn't find a spear, damn it. And now I have to sew my little owl onto my shoulder. So basically I look nothing like Ahena. No aegis, no spear, no breast plate ( we knew that wasn't going to happen), but at least it looks very impressive. No doubt people will wonder about me tonight as I walk down the street. Anyone who gives me a hard time might find the tip of play sword at his throat "Stand aside, mortal, or I shall turn you over to Ares for gladiator training."

Shopping for the costime has made me realize something fairly interesting about my nature. I went to buy my helmet and sword on monday with my friend, Belle. Belle is a gay man from Morrocco, a good friend. Once we entered Halloween Adventure, he headed for the wigs section, I went for weaponry. Generally if you lose me in a store, the weaponry section should be the first place you look. Of course my heading towards weaponry is indicative of the mood I've been in the last three weeks. Although if I was going to be completely Freudian and dress up as my inner emotional stance, I would go as a wolverine. Wolverines, I have recently been told by one of the co-authors of this book, often get so angry they attack trees. I am definately in tree attacking phase. Perhaps I should chalk it up to the lunar eclipse/halloween balance of good and evil out of whack psychic disturbance. Of course, more likely it is the lack of love life, male slave, attention, decent self esteem, but you know denial, for some of us it's a lifestyle choice.

Bad Bunni posted at 10/28/2004 02:12:00 PM |

I am filling out online grad applications. One of the applications, and I am not kidding here, actually asked for "person to contact in case of emergency." Now if I was already going there, I could understand an emergency contact number, but what kind of application emergency are they anticipating? I mean I KNOW they are harrowing and they do ask for a lot probing questions (How well do speak/read/write latin? How many articles have your published? Where? Have you ever slept with a 7 ft tall invisible rabbit? If so, do you still keep in touch?) but really AN EMERGENCY CONTACT NUMBER? I think my mother would be frightened if she got a call, "Hello? Mrs. Lapin? This is Princeton University. I'm afraid there is an emergency situation involving your daughter. Yes. Have you, perchance, seen her Math GRE scores? Really. You might want to sit down..."

I forgot how draining applications are. Typing the same generic personal info again and again again-permanent address, graduation dates, schools I skulked in the parkings lots of, academic honors I kind of sort of in a roundabout way achieved. But I am, honestly terrified. I do not think I am going to get in anywhere. Including NYU, which is interesting since I work here. Of course, I thought this way when I applied to the Master's. But honestly, I am spending this week getting all the technical stuff together so I have month to edit my writing sample, statement of purpose, and CV. Because I have to have it all in at Emory by Dec. 1 and most other places by the 15th.

So this is a plea. First, leave me encouraging messages as I seem to be suffering some sore throat and sleeping virus. Second, please tolerate that my posts will be sparse this upcoming month. Third, should anyone want to be a guest blogger on occassion, you know, just for the fans, please feel free to send me an email.

Please send red bull and vodka.

Bad Bunni posted at 10/26/2004 05:45:00 PM |

Where's the spirit, people? Where's the love?

OK I am very disappointed in your lack of reponse to my questions. I was thinking you all out there in blogosphere would have some fun freaky left over 80s memorbilia or bizarre costumes, but well, feh. It's like one of those parties you hear about and you get a new outfit, rest the night before, take a disco nap, save extra cash, take a cab there because you are NOT taking the subway in those heels, and you get there fashionably late, sweep in with your coiffed hair and your lipstick unsmudged to find...five people all drowsily chatting around a single bottle of crappy white wine. Meanwhile, all your friends, you know the ones who bailed on you, have somehow stumbled into the coolest bar, hook up with low level models/urban hipsters, go back to their loft for a late night spontaneous party, and eventually crawl back to their own apartments looking and feeling like an aged wombat.

So now you have been duly chastised.

Bad Bunni posted at 10/26/2004 01:01:00 PM |