Well, I know you people are angry with me because of the stall on the Italy story, but unfortunately I am and have been sick since tuesday night. The anonymous poetess can vouch that yesterday I was truly not on this planet but circling somewhere above the earth in a fever induced orbit. I'm still not really here and certainly not up to the task of blogging about Italy which takes a lot of focus. The good news is that because my mother and I went to Spamalot on tuesday night and despite the fact she doesn't speak english but does love her daughter, I have been able to stalk around my apartment in killer bunny slippers! It does make being sick a little easier to bear.


For those of you who have been following the unfolding story between myself and this blog
you'll realize that monday I went to Brighton Beach for the first time. Unfortunately, I went there in the clothes I was wearing from Sunday night, my long billowy skirt from Paris and a white top. Sitting on the beach I felt like the final scene of Barton Fink.


But on the subway ride to the beach the Grand High Vizier, and I don't remember what prompted this comment, said to me "Psychologically you have a tail."

Bunni: You know there is this site called Scrine where you can post one sentence. I think that has to go up there.

GHV: But it won't make sense out of context.

Bunni: It doesn't make sense in context.

GHV: You act like you have a tail.

Bunni: Well I'm not getting a tail surgically implanted so just get that out of your mind.

GHV: I never said anything about a surgically implanted tail.

Bunni: This is just preemptive. You have all these wierd ideas about biting my nose off. I'm just telling you don't even contemplate a surgically implanted tail cause I'm not getting one.

I think we can all agree that I do psychologically have a tail. Since I abdictated my status as a human being and became a Lapinia (you're still with me right beastmomma?) one of the traits of the specias is the psychological tail. That and big pointed teeth.