How to be an Internationally Acclaimed Piece of Ass

This post originally appeared last year on October 21. I've been feeling distinctively un-sexy lately, so I thought it might be a good time for all of us to revisit it. -Bunni

Last week when I was doing my bimonthly lush products, blue margaritas, and high fat food extravaganza with Bakerina, and she asked me if I would please write a "How to be an Internationally Acclaimed Piece of Ass" correspondence course. Last night as I was preparing for the NYC Horror Festival, I realized that it is wrong for me to keep so many good tips to myself. After all even if I tell all, there is only one Miss Lapin to go around, and let's face it I could use some rest now and again. So I present to you the following tips on preparing for a rendez-vous.

1. Be Prepared-I'm going to come back to this one again and again because it is the cornerstone of any good courtesan's preparation. No matter how much time you think you have, it will not be enough. This is not just about knowing what you are going to wear make-up, jewelry, and clothes wise. This is about knowing what you have to do and in what order and estimating on the side of caution how long those activities will take.

Don't go to work with the "I'll figure it out later" attitude. You should know the day before what time you have to be home, what you have to do while your there, and in what order those activities should take place. We all know where last minute preparation ends. You panick, try seventeen different outfits, realize you have to leave immediately, and you end up leaving your apartment looking like a blind person dressed you in rejects from the wardrobe of Don Knotts.

Know the look your going for (sexy, formal, romantic), select your outfit, and have everything set out in advance so there is no last minute scrambling through the closest cursing about "Where the FUCK is that scarf?"

2. Bath-Baths are very important. First, hot water relaxes your muscles. Second, you can involve all your senses (even taste if you bring some wine by the tub), really take your time, be decadent with yourself. You should emerge feeling like a goddess. Selection of bath products is important. For a romantic date, I would recommend something rose or jasmine based. If it's more of a sexifying thing, you need something more musk-y.

I started my night with elixir bubble bath and a blueberry bathbomb from Lush. The blueberry bomb turns your bath purple while the elixir mixes in blue and silver glitter. A prettier bath you haven't seen, but if you aren't comfortable looking like a disco ball for the rest of the evening, you might be better served with a bubble bath without glitter or only a light gold sheen.

After you've soaked for a while, letting all that tension ease from your shoulder and lower back, get yourself a good body exfoliator. I recommend Buffy the Backside Slayer (Lush), but the sugar scrub from Bath and Body Works or the salt scrub from L'Occitane are worth a shot (although they leave an oily residue which might have to rinsed off in an after-bath shower). Really scrub with the exfoliator. It not only gets the circulation going and gives your skin a rosy hue, but it also enhances your tactile sensitivity. Scrub until you can feel the skin on your legs and arms tingling.

After you've enjoyed a good scrub, you need to soothe the skin a bit with a nice moisturizing bar like Soft Pair of Hands (Lush-note this step is unneccessary if you are using an oily salt or sugar scrub). If you have any sore muscles or joints, use the moisturizing bar to give yourself a massage. Particularly your hands and forearms.

Unless you want to be all oily afterwards, you'll have to use something to wash yourself off. I would recommend a clean smelling soap with a light citrus smell-Ring of Roses (Lush) or Verbena soap (L'Occitane).

After all this lathering and soaping, you will probably feel fairly sexy. In fact, you might find yourself feeling downright starving for sex. I would recommend indulging yourself insteading of counting on your date to do it later (especially if you haven't slept with him before and have no idea about the satisfaction he might afford). The rest of the night can be all about him, but the bath is all about you and indulging yourself. Besides there is nothing a man will exploit faster than a sex hungry woman. Make sure you are satisified BEFORE the date. It will also keep you from resenting your date if he decides he isn't into sex for whatever reason.

After you get out of your bath, spray your tub with some floral scented 409 particularly if you are using elixir. It may sound counter-intuitive, but it is easier to rinse residue when the tub is still moist rather than scrub the next day. Also if the date goes well and he stays over, you don't want an icky looking tub. Particularly one covered in blue and silver glitter.

DO NOT, however, USE ANYTHING WITH CLOROX. You've just basked in a fabulous tub. You smell like an entire Victorian hothouse. Do not destroy the sensory experience by burning your nose hairs out and evoking memories of public pools.

3. Know your strengths-Your outfit, as I said, should be ready in advance. If on some occassion many people comment on how nice you look, take note of what your wearing for future reference. This will be a huge asset should you need to make some last minute subsititution for any reason (i.e. your cat peed in your Manolo Blahniks).

Do not wear something that makes you uncomfortable physically or psychologically. Odds are, without knowing it, you will unconsciously manipulate your date into re-assuring you. It is not his job to assuage your ego, as if anyone could.

Have a lifeline. Someone you can call in case of emergency to check if you are unsure about an outfit.

4. Play dress up-Again going back to be prepared. DO NOT WAIT UNTIL THE NIGHT IN QUESTION TO PUT ON THE OUTFIT FOR THE FIRST TIME. How many times have you thought something will look perfect together only to find that you look like a color blind Jabba the Hut in a muumuu? Try it in advance to be sure everything works the way it should. Even the make-up. Nothing is more frustrating than having to redo your face at the last minute. Play around with jewelry. Sometimes the oddest combinations end up looking fabulous.

5.Have a gimmick-Have something unusual that gives men an excuse to look, touch, and talk to you. I have several-the elixir bubble bath leaves me looking like Vanity Smurf had sex with Liberace, my assortment of stuffed bunnies, and, particularly for last night, my bag of gummy brains, worms, bats, and fangs (appropriate to the situation).

6. Have enough time-The main reason to have everything planned is to make sure you have enough time. Dating is stressful enough, no reason to make it worse by playing against the clock. The more panicked you are, the more likely you are to walk out the door unhappy with your outfit and therefore already in a bad mood, which is not good for anyone involved. You want to walk out of your apartment feeling like the utterly sublime individual that you are.

In addition, no matter how much you plan, something will go wrong . You want to be sure you have enough in case of unforeseen catastrophe. For example, I was all ready last night only discover that the 1 train, which would take me straight to the location of my rendez-vous WASN'T RUNNING. Luckily, I had anticipated such delays and made it right on time.

7. Know what to sacrifice-We are all ambitious about the things we are going to get done before a date. Last night I wanted to go to Dylan's Candy Bar (for the gummy snacks), pick up my dry cleaning, and pick up a disposable camera (after I discovered my digital was acting wacky). I realized after Dylan's, I wasn't going to get to the dry cleaners that day, which I had anticipated-I dry cleaned my date ensemble earlier in the week-thus eliminating a last minute outfit change.

8. Have an emergency kit-I am not talking about those gas mask, folded up Hazmat suit, water purifying pills emergency kits that so many in the post 9/11 world seem to have. (I live dangerously or maybe more realistically. I know I'll be a goner should some huge catastrophe befall NYC again, and I don't want my last thought to be "If I had only had my emergency backpack.")

Your emergency kit should have band-aids, mints/gum, your preferred over the counter pain killer of choice (i.e. advil), and a hidden $20 (should you need to make a speedy escape).

As far as make up is concerned, consolidate. Do not look like you are an Avon lady hauling around your products to schill.

9. Know how to take a compliment-Too many chicks don't know how to pull this off. If a guy says you look stunning, beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, whatever, do not be humble, do not say "oh you are just saying that", do not explain everything that went wrong with your outfit, SAY THANK YOU. Too many men stop giving compliments simply because they are sick of having their positive assessments totally shot down. You are a goddess. Allow him to aknowledge it.

Kick-Off Party: NYC Horror Festival
Ok let me get this over with right now: I MET JOE BOB BRIGGS!

I know this means nothing to you, but to me I could die right now. In the words of Hugh Laurie in Blackadder Goes Forth, "I hope I snuff it right now so as to preserve for eternity this moment." I can't tell you what this guy means to me, how many lonely long nights in CT I had only Joe Bob Briggs and Monstervision to keep me company in the night. Because of him I know the history of movies like She and the Exorcist. And I met him. I could really talk and I had to repeat my name three times, but he actually touched me. If I wasn't desperately trying to get out of my office, I would link to his site, but well maybe Ordinary Joe will be the stunning gentleman that he is and provide a link in the comments box for me (thanks for yesterday joe and you did miss a great party and a hooterlicious outfit, my demondate was pleased, incidentally I am writing you an email about your last post-will send it on monday or so). This will be the highlight of my life. It's all down hill from here. (The downhill part, however, involves seeing people like Tom Savini and watching the world premiere of Tobe Hooper's Mortuary.)

I have to be brief-later I will fill in details-but I got to sit at a table chatting with people who have worked with Bryan Singer (can't wait to see his new film on the Zodiac Killer) talking about the effective use of sound in movies like Zombie Honeymoon and the Last Horror Movie. I have to admit I felt out of my element at first. I know my "regular" friends think of me as a horror maven, but please-I am a complete ignoramous compared to the encyclopedic knowledge of these people. Luckily my demondate (so named because of his pull with certain nefarious forces in order to score me a pass to all the events as well as knowing people who could introduce me to JOE BOB BRIGGS!) was more than pleased to serve as my horror film geek liason.

In terms of films, I will just quickly recommend a couple of shorts (I'll add links later when I have the time) Brian Forrest's "A Public Service Announcement", BC Furtney's "Culinary Art", and not nec. horror but still worth a view "The Gamers" by the Dead Gentleman. Tonight, I'll be seeing Mainstream, finally, the buzz is very hot, as well as Nightborhood Watch. Courtesy of Audio Blogger I'll let you know how things are going and next week I shall write a more detailed post recommending films and analyzing some of the more profound films and shorts.

Well I must dash, buy gummy brains, soak in a bath of blueberry bath bomb and elixir bubble bath (imagine a purple bath with silver and blue glitter which smells of jasmine) and then to dress myself in my bunni finery and flounce down to the cinema.

All I can say is it involves a cheese grater, a garbage disposal, and severed limbs
So, as some of you know, I have connections with certain minions of underlings of very important demons who managed to pull a few favors and get me into the NYC Horror Film Festival (blogger is being evil so I can't link to it, but if you google the title it is easy to find) where I shall be cruising for film geeks for the remainder of the week and most of this weekend. Of course, it is unlikely I will have the time to blog, but be assured I will update as soon as I have a chance about my marauding.

In the meantime I would recommend that you try and get your hands on a copy of The Last Horror Show, last year's NYC Film Festival Winner. I'll be writing about it as soon as I get a free moment and I wouldn't want you all to be unprepared. Well must be off, have to go cover the floor of my apartment in a plastic tarp and put on my surgical gloves. Nothing says love like latex.

I am Terry Schiavo
I was teaching class yesterday and one of my students, one of those always asking the tangent students, one of those "I just pulled in from Alpha Centauri to pick up my mail" forgetting to take his antipsychotic medication what conversation were you listening to students raised his hand.

Inwardly I shuddered fearing what completely derailing comment he might make.

"Prof. Bunni do you find that you're a lot less happy because you know grammar?"


"Well, I mean like you were complaining before class about how it hurts you when people use double negatives and stuff. I mean, don't you think you would enjoy things more if you didn't know about all this stuff?"

"Are you asking me if my quality of life has diminished because of my command of the English language?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Sure, misuse annoys me, but we all have those idiosyncratic annoyances. On the other hand, at least I can write a cover letter without a lot of anxiety."

This is what I said, but what I was thinking is, "You now have my permission to remove the feeding tube."

"What would you do if Eric came back?"

The Amazon and I are having brunch. I'm lucky that I am already half way through a bloody mary when she springs this on me.

I've been explaining to her that I have never taken a man back. Oh sure, some of them have thought I was taking them back. I'll snuggle up to them, kiss them, fondle them, arouse them, and then leave them so not only can I sleep at night knowing that I've left them on my terms, but knowing that they have at least begun paying back their karmic debt in fucking me over.

The odd thing is they all come back. Not so odd really. If you consider how anomalous I am both physically and psychologically, a man who wants what I have isn't likely to find it anywhere else. That is the upshot having a rareified commodity.

Sure some of them take their time coming back. Somewhere between 8 hours and 8 years. Who can put revelation on the calendar? Occassionally it takes some time for the little Bunni toxins to eat away at the self-control center of the brain. But they all come back.

Well, not all. Only two have continued to resist. Both of them said they would love me and never leave me. Both of them called me the love of their lives.

Don't love me that much.

Still she has a valid question.

I tell her I wouldn't take him back. I'd like to think I wouldn't. Even if it was my only chance at happiness. That is the kind of sick person I am. I would deprive myself of happiness if it meant I could deprive him too.

But really who can say? When we were still together sometimes at night I would try and imagine how I would re-act when he left. I didn't really think it would happen. It was like how some people imagine torture. How would I re-act? Would I keep my dignity or die in a puddle of my own piss? I don't think anyone anticipated that I would dissolve into a quivering mass of tears. I, who had in acting school been the last hold out, the only actor not to burst into tears on stage, suddenly cried everywhere the subway, my desk, christ I almost cried while teaching class a couple of times. And I, who had always prided myself on only sleeping with men I cared deeply about became the whore of 85th street. All those rules and regulations I had been living my life by, if you do this, follow that, stay within the lines, have colored coordinated outfits, don't wear glittery eyeshadow to work, speak in a way that reflects your intelligence, don't hold yourself back with other people, wear comfortable shoes, always have an umbrella, living my life by so I could be happy. Gone. Finished. No more rules. No more delayed gratification. No more worrying about what other people would say. Fuck them.

I did.

But I could have never guessed that was how I would re-act. And certainly others were shocked. I had survived cancer, disability, my father's insanity,and his quasi suicidal death. How could I be undone by something so pedestrian? My friends tried to talk me out of it. A simple "This can't be worse than cancer, it just can't be." But this is the nature of tragedy. What shatters each of us is idiosyncratic. Cancer was nothing to me, heartbreak ruined me. The next person could be ruined by a bad day on the stock exchange or not getting her kid into the best private kindergarten. Most people don't know what it is that will ruin them. They imagine it's something huge, something epic like the Titanic. More likely it's something simple. It's saying I love you to someone who looks you in the eyes and says "Thanks." A quiet moment that leaves no trace of the destruction it breeds.

It's impossible for me to know what I would do if he came back. Just like it was impossible for
me to know what I would do when he left. Really it doesn't matter.

He's not coming back.

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