I know I know the PA stories await. By the time I tell them, you'll all be yawning away, but I'm sick, people, sick, and therefore I can not give my full effort to the splendiforous PA stories. I wouldn't want you to miss out on the details of Bunni learning how to shoot a 22 (be afraid very afraid) or the contextual importance of cold beer.


But I don't want you to go through a weekend without your Bunni fix.


Last night Bakerina, her hubby, and I went to see the Brother's Grimm-a Terry Gilliam film. I am a big fan of Gilliam, and no I am not going to put in my film review now because I don't have the focus or the energy for that. (As person well versed in Jungian psychology and symbolic analysis the film would take a great deal of focus for me to coherently dissect.) We managed to get into the theater early, which meant that we got our seats while the credits from the last screening were showing. I was looking at the names thinking "There are way too many Russians working on this film." I said as much to Bakerina, and we were both relieved when we saw that it was filmed in Prague (much like "Seed of Chucky", which was filmed in Roumanai home to one of the largest soundstages in the world, because it was so very very cheap-more fun facts "Seed of Chucky" is actually the cheapest of the Chucky movie even though it has the most "dolls"-three-instead of just one). "Well that's a relief. If it was Belarus, that would have been a different story" I said to Bake, "But Prague is acceptable." It should be remembered that Bake dubbed the Asshat with an Accent "Banjo King of the Shit Weasels." After I was done laughing, I informed her that AA doesn't have the qualities that even shit weasels would look for in a commander and chief. "Honestly, he doesn't strike me as the kind of weasel who could even be trusted with a mop. I think he is more of an assistant janitor to the shit weasels." Unfortunately assistant janitor to the shit weasels doesn't make nearly as good of a t-shirt as King of the Shit Weasels.


And speaking of Russians, Captain Improbably Hot told me yesterday that I speak English like I have a mouth full of bananas. Half way through the lesson another teacher started complimenting me. After she left, he started to make fun of her, and I said "You're just jealous." He didn't know what jealous meant so I said "It's when you want something and someone else gets it. You feel jealous of that person." "Oh yes," he says, "I understand...but what would I do with you once I got you?" I said nothing. "I got you on that one" he smiled. People, I could write a doctoral thesis on what this guy could do to me if he got me. I could write an epic poem to rival the Aeneid on such a topic. (Subtext: We know of course that if Capt Hot ever did anything seriously indicating desire that I would must likely run from the room terrified, but I need something to keep my mind distracted from the continuing horror of my existence.)Still I smiled and kept dancing as fast as I could.


Incidentally, I've been stalking myself again, and I've noticed something. I never get readers from Russia. I get readers from Australia, South Africa, the Netherlands, France, Germany, even Tehran (yesterday) but not Russia. I never talk about these other places, but it seems I have some rather faithful readers in Australia, and Russia, which gets so much screen time, not a single hit. Not one. I think I need to find more things to say about Australia and the Netherlands. Or maybe they like the Russian material. Who can say? Still I feel like I should throw out a reference to Stockholm or marsupials on occassion.


Alright I think I've flaunted my cold incoherence enough. I'm going to go have lunch and take a nap and hopefully wake up more coherent than when I went to sleep.