tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38585102024-03-09T13:01:17.090-05:00BunniblogA daily account of the troubles of dating and teaching in NYCBad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.comBlogger1617125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-30744879314229630972013-12-21T21:38:00.005-05:002013-12-21T21:38:49.998-05:00Day 21 of Unconventional Christmas Viewing: Gremlins<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Most people forget that Gremlins was indeed a Christmas movie. Gizmo is an early Christmas present for Billy played by Zach Galligan who also starred in Gremlins 2 as well as Waxworks 1 and 2. (It may surprise you to know that Zach still acts, but he does and is appearing in Hachet 3.) Also in a small role is a very young Corey Feldman as a tree delivery boy, Judge Rheinhold as a yuppie jerk, and for all you Breaking Bad fans Jonathan Banks as scaredy cat Deputy Brent. The premise is simple: Billy is given Gizmo, a mogwai, and instructed about three rules. Billy must keep Gizmo<br />
1. from bright lights, which hurt him, and sunlight, which will kill him<br />
2. water which causes him to reproduce<br />
3. eating after midnight, which spurs a transformation from fluffy cuteness to green scaly nastiness<br />
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Predictably Billy fails rules 2 and 3 and thus the town is overrun by psychotic creatures until Gizmo <br />
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and Billy manage to save the day by killing all the gremlins. Gremlins alternate being flat out homicidal, particularly Stripe, to cartoonishly silly. Particularly in the pub scene you have Gremlins imitating humans-flashing, breakdancing, cheating at cards, but not actually doing more than scaring the bartender (Billy's love interest played by Phoebe Cates). It's surprising given the popularity of Gremlins (remember the days when you couldn't drive on the highway without seeing a Gizmo suction cupped to the indoor of a car? I do.) that it only spawned one sequel. It inspired many knock off including Ghoulies and, particularly, Critters. While Gremlins only made it to two, Critters made it to four and managed to feature the talents of Leonardo Dicaprio (three) and Angela Basset (four).<br />
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Gremlins manages to be movie that not only holds up surprisingly well, it also manages to balance scary and funny moments. It's not quite an American Werewolf in London, but there are some real scares and the death of Stripe is particularly gross (I mean that in a good way). But wait, isn't this supposed to be about Christmas? Yes, it is! The movie offers Christmas-y goodness like Billy's mom crying while watching It's a Wonderful Life, but more importantly it is filled with lots of moments for those of us who get down on Christmas-from a Gremlin's head being tossed in the fire like a yule log to Phoebe Cates talking about how her father died on Christmas coming down the chimney.<br />
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Basically, it's a great movie and you should watch it.<br />
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Now as you notice I have a lot of viewing I have not written about and I'm going to fix that so generations to come can also enjoy some weird Christmas viewing or at the very least my reviews of weird Christmas viewing. However, tonight I am getting my happy ass to holiday karaoke to rock Santa, Baby.<br />
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But don't give up on me yet, there will be 25 reviews here soon. Mark my damn words.<br />
Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-67991703829798878382013-12-11T16:52:00.001-05:002013-12-11T16:52:36.214-05:00Apologies on the DelayI know I was going strong there for a bit, but last week was the last week of classes so the big push to get papers DONE for the last class (I made it) followed by a petite cat crisis and then a large holiday crisis: my uncle Dan passed away. This makes Dan the second relative to die close to christmas in the last five years. See why the christmas spirit is so difficult for me? Doesn't help the other one is my grandmother so my mother is already in the wallowing in sadness portion of the holiday.<br />
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Dan was a larger than life character. He had a huge booming voice that preceded him, but he was always jovial and welcoming. Long before he'd enter a room, I'd hear him calling out "Is that Bunni and Mere Lapin? C'mere you." And he'd hug us and give us kisses on the cheek. I always associated Dan with Christmas because he and his wife would host a huge christmas party on christmas eve with drinks, games, a huge food spread, and an appearance by santa with gifts for the young children. Some of my relatives remember seeing me spotting santa in the snow outside Dan's house. He bought a jukebox in the 80s, which had christmas songs like Jingle Bell Rock, a song I still associate with him (and strangely had just bought a version of it off iTunes three days before he died).<br />
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Dan's house was a short walk through woods from my grandmother's former house. I remember many times loading up with gifts and merely walking through the snowy woods towards the sounds of laughter and Christmas songs coming from his house. The day after Christmas all the kids would get together and play games-Trivial Pursuit usually-or sing karaoke. It was the one time of year, I saw that side of the family. In recent years because of Dan and his wife's age, his daughters took over hosting. Same party, same food, same guests, same spirit, just a different venue. His one daughter would jam every inch of her house with Christmas decor right down to the toilet paper (no joke). I got tired just looking at all the things she set up on her mantle-houses, angels, snowmen, santas, elves, reindeer, presents... I hope this will not kill her Christmas spirit in the future.<br />
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Sadly, after my grandmother died three years ago, my mother and I didn't venture back to visit on Christmas Eve. With Nana gone, we had no place to stay that night and so instead we made our Christmas at my mother's house. While it's obviously more comfortable and easier than a three hour drive to stay at a hotel, I missed those parties and seeing my relatives. I was going to bring up to my mother visiting next year-that perhaps I would rent a car and go out there on christmas eve for a bit. Not the most practical plan, but I missed them.<br />
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Unfortunately, even if I do, Dan will not be there. Dan, I miss you, but I'm singing Jingle Bell Rock for you. I will keep the Christmas spirit alive in your memory as you were always such a generous man.<br />
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I will be posting new movie reviews and dating stories soon, but hopefully you understand that this will take a while to work through. In the meantime, if there is a relative or friend you haven't seen in a while, make plans to go see them for the holidays if you can.<br />
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<br />Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-44287486110800238762013-12-03T11:53:00.000-05:002013-12-03T11:53:04.045-05:00Day 2 of 25 Days of Unconventional Christmas Viewing: Black Christmas (2006 remake)Generally, I am against remakes. There are, however, always exceptions and the remake of Black Christmas is such an exception. I'll actually be discussing the remake BEFORE the original due to a screw up at the rental shop. I asked for Black Christmas and received the remake instead of the original so I'm afraid tomorrow will be a bit of repeat business.<br />
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The original Black Christmas, released in 1974 the year of my birth, is largely considered one of the first slashers. As such, one can not criticize it too heavily for not being so creative in its murders. It's a more naturalistic slasher relying heavily on the danger is coming from INSIDE the house. This is probably because it's based on a series of actual murders that took place around Quebec during Christmastime.<br />
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Part of the trickiness of a successful remake is capturing the spirit of the original while updating the work to 1. take into consideration technological advances 2. address the media savvy of the audience. Thanks to movies like scream, current audiences are very savvy about the elements of a slasher (the survivor girl, the dangers of sin) unlike audiences in 1974 when slashers were just emerging as a genre.<br />
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One of the first things about that should capture audiences about this remake is the cast. It features <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0005502/?ref_=tt_cl_t2">Michelle Trachtenberg</a> (best known as Dawn from Buffy the Vampire Slayer), <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0935541/?ref_=tt_cl_t3">Mary Elizabeth Winstead </a>(The Thing remake and Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter), <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1556320/?ref_=tt_cl_t1">Katie Cassidy</a> (The Nightmare on Elm Street remake), <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0005029/?ref_=tt_cl_t8">Oliver Hudson</a> as the dubious boyfriend Kyle, and the fabulously talented <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0551908/?ref_=tt_cl_t6">Andrea Martin</a> as the den mother.<br />
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The movie opens with 3 murders in quick succession, which makes the viewer wonder how the movie will keep up the pace. Yet it doesn't disappoint. The pace is fast enough that one is willing to forgive kitschy touches like a killer christmas-y Rube Goldberg machine. Unlike the original, the movie takes full advantage of all the dangers of the season like candy canes, creepy clauses, and christmas lights .I won't go into anymore detail lest I reveal too much of the surprising creativity used to dispatch the cast. One touch I particularly liked is the use of christmas lights to lend a saturated color palate reminiscent of Dario Argento. Argento, a fan of deep red and green colors, would surely appreciate a film that uses strings of Christmas lights to produce the same unsettling effect.<br />
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One of the things that usually tips me off to a quality film or tv show is the attention given to set dressing. This film had one shot early one which was a whole horror story in itself. Billy, a chronically ill young man born to toxic parents, sets out a tray of cookies and milk by a letter for Santa. On the same tray sits a cup filled with cigarette butts (his mother's) who goes on to taunt him that "Santa Claus is DEAD." This brief moment alone totally encapsulates Billy's childhood: a child attempting to hold onto some hope in the face of a cruel and selfish parent.<br />
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One of the most successful aspects of the movie is its focus on the destructive nature of family. While Christmas is supposed to be a time to appreciate family, its more often about re-opening old wounds, attempting to be pleasant with estranged family members, or coping with loneliness. The movie emphasis this point with a cast filled with estranged sisters and daughters as well as destructive and selfish parents. This is the true horror of Christmas, and the movie exploits it to the hilt.<br />
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The film goes onto to use a rather clever system to recreate the tension from the original in terms of the killer being from within the house with mobile phones.<br />
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One of the main weaknesses of the movie is that the director LOVES to over utilize extreme close ups on objects that will be relevant: door knobs, computer screens, and phones amongst others. Yes, you should let the audience know that this will be a key plot point but you don't need to close up on an object every ten minutes. The only person who does that well is Edgar Wright, and this is not directed by Edgar Wright.<br />
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In addition, the movie lacks a denouement. It starts at a breakneck pace and ends just as quickly without giving the audience time to really survey the destruction, which would reinforce the true basis of horror of this film, which isn't actually about murder, but about the destructive nature of families particularly during the holiday season. Taking a few minutes to drive that point forward instead of ending the moment the killing does undercuts the real potential of this movie to transcend slasher and use it as tool to reveal the real terror of Christmas.<br />
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Still and all, if you come home from Christmas shopping and want to see some spectacularly seasonal deaths, I highly recommend this movie. I wouldn't watch it while eating milk and cookies though....trust me.Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-5089811006380511042013-12-01T11:35:00.001-05:002013-12-01T11:44:50.398-05:0025 Days of Unconventional Christmas ProgrammingSo the last two years, I've had trouble with the Christmas spirit. I thought this year for the 25 days leading up to Christmas I would watch an unusual Christmas movie or tv show episode, Some of these, of course, are more conventional than others, some are a bit of reach, but they all involve the spirit of Christmas in some way so...<br />
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Today's selection was <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2140429/">Stalled </a><br />
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A janitor having the worst day of work of his life, fired for allegedly stealing toilet paper, ends up in the women's bathroom during an office Christmas party when the zombie apocalypse breaks out. Featuring lesbian make outs, zombie rats, Jeff from IT (NOT Jeff from Accounts), tributes to both Evil Dead AND Thriller, plenty of gore, Christmas music, and, of course, lots and lots of zombies Stalled is entertainingly fun. It's impressive to see how engaging a movie set almost entirely in a bathroom can be. I give credit to the writer Dan Palmer who is also the main character whose name is never disclosed and referred to the credits only by W.C. (Nice touch, huh?)</div>
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So if you like zombie movies, british comedy, and a bit of both for the holiday season, enjoy Stalled. It's kind of like Shaun of the Dead with a techno version of Silent Night.</div>
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Stalled is currently available on Netflix (live streaming), iTunes, and Amazon. </div>
<br />Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-3904540302019645542013-11-28T13:35:00.000-05:002013-11-28T13:37:26.859-05:00More From the Annals of Trying Too Hard Dating EmailsBefore we go any further, I want you all to know that while I mock, I try to do so with a genuine hope that should someone with low social IQ stumble upon this blog, he (or even she) will realize that instead of creating a positive first impression, he (or she) is coming off as Rapey McStalkersons.<br />
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The beauty of online dating is you don't even really have to be funny. All I have to do is offer myself up and then wait. Kind of like fishing. With dynamite as it seems there is no shortage of men who don't quite get how to create a unique first impression without coming off as...well...terrifyingly desperate.<br />
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Today's offering:<br />
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Hi <screenname also="" br="" but="" misspelled="" redacted="">You look mahvelous dahling. Did you know that if you
toast 'chin, chin,' to a Chinese host, it's okay, but if it's a Japanese
host, you just said, 'penis?' You probably already know that, but I
know you'd do the same for me. Happy holidays. Will that be a vegan or
omniveran one for you? I'm attending a Chinese wedding banquet but the
host is a Japanese friend so, 'no chin, chin.' At least not for me. :-)
See you later alligator. My name is <redacted> btw.</redacted></screenname><br />
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<b>Now the play by play:</b><br />
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You look mahvelous dahling. <b> </b><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Billy_Crystal"><i>He kicks off with a reference to Fernando Lamas, a recurrent character on SNL played by Billy Crystal in 1985</i><b> </b></a>. <i>So he kicks off with a joke that is 30 years old. Way to date yourself, old man. </i><br />
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Did you know that if you
toast 'chin, chin,' to a Chinese host, it's okay, but if it's a Japanese
host, you just said, 'penis?<br />
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<i>He manages to work the word "penis" into his second sentence. Now true, he couches it in the "here's some fun trivia you might know" but really, out of all the trivia in the world, he HAD to pick penis trivia? </i> <br />
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You probably already know that, but I
know you'd do the same for me.<br />
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<i>Tell you penis trivia? How about the word "penis" is Latin for "tail" as in you probably have a vestigial one.</i><br />
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Happy holidays. Will that be a vegan or
omniveran one for you?<br />
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<i>I'm planning on eating the souls of men. It's a time honored tradition carried out by the women of my clan. They are also less calories than pumpkin pie.</i><br />
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I'm attending a Chinese wedding banquet but the
host is a Japanese friend so, 'no chin, chin.' At least not for me. :-)
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<i>Not content to break one cardinal rule, he manages to get marriage AND penis into his very first email. In addition, he gets marriage AND a penis reference IN ONE SENTENCE. Truly an admirable achievement.</i><br />
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See you later alligator.<br />
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<i>Really? We finish this off with a grade school salutation? From penis to playschool in two sentences. This guy is a neo-Freudian's wetdream.</i><br />
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My name is <redacted> btw.</redacted><br />
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<i>Hard to believe he almost forgot to tell me his name in this carefully crafted patchwork of awful. </i> <br />
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<i> </i> <br />
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<br />Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-33860107312702288822013-11-26T11:21:00.000-05:002013-11-26T11:27:57.447-05:00Online Dating Tip du Jour: ScreennamesIf Romeo and Juliet had been written today, Juliet might have mused on her FB page:<br />
<table align="CENTER" bgcolor="#ffffff" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" style="color: #000020; width: 601px;"><tbody>
<tr><td>What’s in a dating screenname? that which we call a rose</td><td><a href="" name="47"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td>By any other name would smell as sweet;</td><td><a href="" name="48"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td>So RomeoMontague1570 would, were he not RomeoMontague1570 call’d,</td><td><a href="" name="49"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td>Retain that dear perfection which he owes</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="" name="50"><i> 50</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Without that screenname.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Obviously one of the first way I can judge a potential cyber suitor is by their screenname. For example, this morning, I received an IM from CaptAmerica. Needless to say, it's very exciting to get a message from a name that invokes such an iconic presence. Unfortunately, the message I received "Hi. How are you?" Talk about a huge let down! If you give yourself a screenname like that, you're setting a very high bar for yourself. I'm EXPECTING someone who will blow my panties off with the power of a single message.<br />
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There are plenty of ways to capture your spirit without engineering a surefire disappointment. For example, my online screenname isn't JessicaRabbit because DAMN is that a bad idea for any number of reasons. The point is, much like when you select a holy grail, pick your screenname WISELY.Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-33877614849399264662013-11-25T19:12:00.000-05:002013-11-25T19:12:08.982-05:00Hello Again: Anatomy of an Online Come On<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">So I'm internet dating again and as such I have a terrible stories to share. But this is just going to be a little warm up to remind you of what is out there in wide world of internet dating.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Two weeks ago I joined OKCupid because my friend VideoGeek insisted I get back into dating and my other friend Semmelweiss found her husband to be there. I put up a profile, answered some questions, and the men started messaging me. Many of the come ons are pretty pedestrian-telling me I'm beautiful, great eyes, nice smile, seem like a cool chick. Nothing spectacular until I received the following. This is what I received word for word.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">No woman on this site has ever done this to me but after sitting here
for about an hour sweating, and hard as a rock I have decided I want to
wrap your legs around my forehead and wear you like the crown you are my
lady :P (what kind of lotion do you use by the way? your skin looks
like it is crafted with Aphrodite's DNA). Oh forgot to introduce you to
myself (got busy wearing pool floaties so I wouldnt drown in your
beauty) I am Faraz and I am just a little bit more awesome than kim
kardashian's butt(needless to say I am a mean twerker)...Lets have a cup
of something delicious and some beyond fantastic conversations which
would include but not limited to robbery, horror movies and diet coke!
If you can handle it, that is. :D </span><br />
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Now, let's take this a part a little bit at a time.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">No woman on this site has ever done this to me but after sitting here
for about an hour sweating, and hard as a rock I have decided I want to
wrap your legs around my forehead and wear you like the crown</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">So apparently I am an accessory to be worn to indicate his accomplishment. This is reinforced by the fact that he and he alone decides to use me in this fashion. My desire is irrelevant. Which is good because already I want to rip this guy's spine out of his body and wear it as a sash.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">you are my
lady</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Oh, am I? So after being reduced to a mere object NOW I've been elevated to a human being, albeit one who belongs to you, even though you still haven't bothered to ask for consent. </span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">:P</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Included to indicate he's joking so if I object I can be relegated to one of those humorless feminists who take everything too seriously. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">(what kind of lotion do you use by the way? your skin looks
like it is crafted with Aphrodite's DNA).</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Am I the only person who got a "Buffalo Bill" vibe from this question?</span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Oh forgot to introduce you to
myself (got busy wearing pool floaties so I wouldnt drown in your
beauty)</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">That is not all he forgot.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> I am Faraz and I am just a little bit more awesome than kim
kardashian's butt(needless to say I am a mean twerker)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Needless to say there are few sentences that are more terrifying in the English language. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Lets have a cup
of something delicious and some beyond fantastic conversations which
would include but not limited to robbery, horror movies and diet coke!</span> </span> </span> </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Diet coke because I'm chick, right? That's all we drink or so does this basement dwelling, never probably talked to a real woman think.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span> </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
If you can handle it, that is. :D </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">My little misguided lotus blossom, there are so very many things I can handle.But just because I CAN handle them doesn't mean I should. Like I could probably get some protective gear and handle some sewer rats. But I'm not gonna. You fall into sewer rat territory. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Much like Remo Williams, the adventure begins. Gird your loins. </span></span></span></span></span></span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span> </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-58418303170220916712012-11-30T16:12:00.000-05:002012-11-30T16:12:05.028-05:00Why Season 4 Of BBC's Being Human Killed the Show-WARNING SERIOUS SPOILER ALERT<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span></span><br />
<strong>I'm really not joking about the spoilers. Proceed with caution.</strong><br />
<br />
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<a href="http://loadtv.biz/wp-content/gallery/being-human-uk-season-4-promo-photo/Being%20Human%20UK%20Season%204%20Promo%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://loadtv.biz/wp-content/gallery/being-human-uk-season-4-promo-photo/Being%20Human%20UK%20Season%204%20Promo%203.jpg" width="226" /></a></div>
Because I moved last year and had trouble with cable, I missed season 4 of Being Human. I got hooked early and so much so that I actually got two of my friends hooked as well through my enthusiasm. Finally, season 4 became available of Netflix. Since I was feeling quite ill this week, it seemed to be the perfect time to curl up with some tea and catch up on the series.<br />
<br />
Big. Big. Mistake.<br />
<br />
Part of what made Being Human so genius is that it focused on 3
characters, none of whom were human, but used their “conditions” as
supernatural entities to explore general themes of human existence much
like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Annie’s ghostly nature became a metaphor
for the invisibility of domestic abuse, Mitchell’s blood lust-an
addiction, and George’s werewolf transformations parallel the stigma of
mental illness (at one point particularly tourette’s) as well as how a person who develops a disability later in life has to reconcile his past sense of self with his new reality.<br />
<br />
Season 4 is a huge departure from this theme. Mitchell, George, and Nina
are all dead, and they are replaced by Hal and Tom. One of the first
problems is that Mitchell and George, complex characters, are replaced
by simpler unconflicted characters.
<a href="http://images4.fanpop.com/image/photos/18700000/301-Lia-Mitchell-Annie-being-human-18740808-400-224.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://images4.fanpop.com/image/photos/18700000/301-Lia-Mitchell-Annie-being-human-18740808-400-224.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
Part of what makes Mitchell so immediately attractive as a character not
only manages to eschew the brood-y romantic vampire mold so popular of
late, but, instead, he encompasses a dynamic range. Mitchell is capable
of childish glee when ripping into sweets with a young boy, but also the
sadistic blood lust that results in the box tunnel murders. He also
isn’t thrown up as a viable romantic interest for anyone except
incorporeal Annie. His conquests more often end up dead, and Annie only
manages to love Mitchell successfully because she’s dead already.
<a href="http://entil2001.com/blog5/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/being-human-UK-4x2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://entil2001.com/blog5/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/being-human-UK-4x2.jpg" width="213" /></a><br />
Hal is a far older vampire than Mitchell. He is, in fact, one of the
legendary Old Ones who, apparently, are just like regular vampires but
are immune to the cross and have a stronger pull over younger vampires.
Season Four features quite a few Old Ones, which you would think would
be impressive. Unlike on True Blood or even Kindred: The Masquerade, the
Old Ones don’t have any form of organized government or hierarchy. The
just... ARE. In season four they basically show up and demand tribute,
but they don’t have anything like...A PLAN. They are, basically, all
hype and interesting costuming. They make the Vultari from Twilight look a model of order and planning and that's never good.<br /><br />
Hal’s cruelty and blood lust, like Mitchell’s, are legendary. Like
Mitchell, Hal fights, with far more success, his addiction. Hal uses OCD
like rituals to achieve this goal. The OCD rituals could possibly be
linked to the myths of vampires having to count grains of rice if
spilled before them or untie all the knots in front of them, thus the
habit of draping fishing nets over doorways. Sadly, this possibility is
never acknowledged. It’s more likely that this is just a quirk of Hal’s
personality. Unfortunately, his quirk comes nowhere near the dynamic
character of Mitchell as Hal basically hides behind his milquetoast
rituals and emotional distance. Furthermore, he’s more akin to the broody
vampires Angel and Edward from which Mitchell was a stark departure so
Hal is actually a regression rather than a progression.
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<br />
Speaking of steps backward, never have I been so disappointed in a
female character’s arc as I was in Annie’s. In season 1, when Annie
figures out that she was murdered by her cheating jerk of a fiance,
Owen, and then manages to literally scare him into police custody, I was
thrilled. Here Annie went from abused doormat to woman in control of
her own destiny.This is concretely manifested by the fact she became visible.<br /><br />
But then she got involved Saul, an alcoholic who attempted to first rape
her and then drag her into purgatory with him. She doesn't even manage to escape from Saul, at the last minute, HE lets her go. Nor does she save herself from purgatory when she gets sent there, Mitchell saves her. So Annie's gone from being a force to reckoned with to being the standard damsel in distress. Then she falls for Mitchell, her savior, which was the healthiest
of her relationships but that’s not saying much-ironically he’s also the
most seasoned and vicious of all the murderers she gets involved with,
and then Kirby. Essentially Annie inevitably falls for killers. When
she bewails that she has the “worst taste in men” in S4 after Kirby
reveals his true nature and intentions, she ignores the fact that she
rejected the two men in her life who have proven their care and loyalty
to her and Eve for Kirby, a man who just arrived and she barely knows
anything about. Kirby actually taunts her with how easily she believed
him and WELL HE SHOULD. Essentially, she’s not just easily duped, she
rejects the honest, but complicated relationships she developed with Hal
and Tom for Kirby’s simple and “perfect” facade. After all this time,
Annie has learned nothing about the nature of real human relationships
and continues to make the same mistake she did with Owen.
<br />
Annie, basically, has at best regressed to being the victim she was at the hands of Owen and at worst is now an active
participant in her own victimization, which also opens others, like Eve,
up to harm.
<br />
<span>Which brings us to Tom, who replaces George </span><span><span></span>the most neurotic werewolf
ever. Much like Mitchell, </span><span><a href="http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/blogs/themoment/posts/0810human2.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/blogs/themoment/posts/0810human2.jpg" width="320" /></a>part of George’s charm is his complexity as a
character. While powerful as a wolf, as a man he’s bumbling neurotic
mess, terrified of basic human interactions-like telling a woman he
likes her or picking a decent shirt for a date. That’s part of the
appeal of the character-the ironic tension between his powerful nature and
his fearful personality. When George “sacrifices” himself to kill
Herrick at the end of season 1 to save Mitchell, he correctly says that
this act makes him MORE human not less. His sacrifice, becoming a
werewolf to kill Herrick to save his friend, is truly a human act of
love even though it means giving into his bestial nature. It’s this type
of complexity that make both him and the show so thoroughly enjoyable
to watch.
<br />
Right up until season 4. While George’s character is consistent through
the previous seasons, in S4 character consistency is no longer a
concern. George sacrifices his own life to save his daughter. Yet after
his death he blithely says he has to be with Nina....who is dead and
therefore not in danger. George, who
moments ago died to ensure the safety of his daughter, then suddenly
decides to go to be with Nina without a second of hesitation. It makes
not one lick of sense nor does it even pretend to.
<br />
And just a brief aside about Nina-did she really not deserve an on
screen death? The last we see of Nina is her standing with George and
Annie defiantly, then she’s suddenly missing. George informs us of her
death, briefly, at the hands of vengeful vampires, about ten minutes
into S4. Mainly it is used as a way to introduce the new information
that werewolf blood is actually toxic to vampires. Say WHAT?! Yes, you
would think that information MIGHT have come up sometime in the first
three seasons what with a werewolf LIVING with a vampire and all, and
vampires consistently attacking werewolves, but nope not a peep until
S4.
<br />
</span><span><a href="http://static.whatsontv.co.uk/images/12131_122740_647009low_resbeinghuman.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://static.whatsontv.co.uk/images/12131_122740_647009low_resbeinghuman.jpg" /></a>Unlike George, Tom became a werewolf as a small child. As such, he has
none of the conflicted emotions that George did about being a werewolf.
George had to struggle with integrating the werewolf nature into his sense of self. The closest Tom comes to being conflicted is when he meets Allison, a
teenage girl recently turned werewolf (the circumstances of which are
never revealed). When she becomes seriously sexually aroused in about
the creepiest most bizarre way possible by killing a vamp, Tom at first
rejects her advances and then breaks up with her so she can go back to
her old life despite the fact that she is now a werewolf and Tom is the
first person to accept her as such. His conflict isn’t with her as a
werewolf, but rather a vampire slayer. Tom’s hatred of vampires is the
focus of his character that season and the closest thing that comes to
conflict. Tom lies to Annie about hunting vampires (although why she is
opposed to it is never discussed) and distrusts Hal for quite sometime.
To call this “conflict” is a stretch. Essentially, Tom thinks in purely
black and white terms.
<br />
The only depth to Tom’s character is he’s actually quite romantic. He
talks about courting a girl (as Hal points out an archaic term-oh the
hilarity) and has essentially a dream wall filled with images of
“normal” human life (birthday parties, father’s day) events that he
wishes to experience. Deprived of even the normal life George had prior
to infection, Tom seems strangely clueless about what an average life
is. As such, in some ways, he’s emotionally stunted, but in others it
means has very little clue what modern dating is like. But none of it
is particularly compelling. Mainly I just want to wax his eyebrows.
<br />
This brings us to the finale of S4. Yes I’m going to spoil the hell out
of this. So S4 revolves around a new prophecy. Unlike the prophecy from
the previous season about the wolf-shaped bullet (and man did that
phrase ever get on my damn nerves), the current prophecy is about the
doom of all the vampires. Yup, ALL OF THEM. Turns out baby Eve, the
human child of Nina and George, is the savior of all humankind from
vampires. The trick? SHE HAS TO DIE. So the basically the entire season
is Annie and company protecting baby Eve and then realizing that they
have to kill her, a little baby, to save the world.
<br />
Um yeah. So the show has firmly left the ground of the more empathic
emotional turmoil of the previous season when Mitchell’s fretting about
the box tunnel investigation and George is terrified of killing his best
friend and now entered firmly into intense melodrama of the worst kind.
Mitchell’s fear of discovery and George’s fear of his own power are
emotions that most viewers can connect to-a baby saving the world, not
so much. And in the end? Baby Eve gets it. But here’s the kicker-THERE
ARE STILL VAMPIRES. Remember that whole she’s the savior bit? Well, not
so much. Apparently her death saves us from an alternative history in
which we are enslaved by the vampires (Why they would pull this trick
now, no one, including the Old Ones, ever says. ) So, yeah. Baby blows
up, and vampires are still around. A whole bunch of hand wringing for
the status quo to be maintained.
<br />
But also who the hell blows up a damn baby?! Plus all this about her
being the savior and she doesn’t even make it to her first birthday?
It’s far too anti-climatic to be satisfying. And immediately after the
remaining characters seem TOTALLY FINE. PEOPLE YOU JUST EXPLODED A BABY
TO SAVE HUMANITY, you would think that would be worth one late night
tearful drinking session wishing about what could have been. Thinking
about trips to zoo never taken, school plays never attended, first words
never spoken. Nope, not even one shot of Jame-o and a “This one’s for
you, Evie, you beautiful blowed up baby!” After all, the death of baby
Eve signals the departure of every last vestige of the original cast.
Yup, Annie takes the plunge and goes to the other side after spending
much of the season bitching about how things with Hal and Tom aren’t the
same as with Mitchell and George. I feel her pain. I'm also pretty happy to be free of the whine fest that was becoming her only dialogue.<br /><br />
So basically, S4 sets up a reboot of the series, which, if you think I’m
going to watch that I’ve got an exploding baby to sell you....cheap.</span>Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-82149141744741267812012-11-25T13:15:00.001-05:002012-11-25T13:15:44.707-05:00Data and Dating: Why You Shouldn't Insult Romantic ProspectsI suspect this is more an outgrowth of online culture, and yet the last two experiences where a man has insulted me, it was in person. Both times it was a potential romantic prospect who, begin to behave in a way I found questionable, decided it was OK then to call me a fat cunt or a pathetic cynical twat. Now part of this may be the difference between how men and women are conditioned growing up and social norms in terms of rejection. The guy who I dated for three years and broke up with me by text message, yup I called him an asshole and I pretty much stand by that statement. On the other hand, that guy with no social iq? Even after how insulting he was to me the worst thing I did was imply he was a creep and say he had a fragile ego. Not the same as calling a woman a cunt.<br />
<br />
The reason I bring this up is more than once after such an insult a man has actually tried to ask me out again. THIS WILL NEVER WORK. I don't care where you want to take me, it's not happening. Ever. Not just because of self esteem, but because your behavior set off warning bells. Here's how it works.<br />
<br />
If you insult me early on (in both recent cases it was after a first date), I don't have much other data about you. Let's put it like this: I have maybe 5 points of data about you, and one of those points is very negative. I know you're thinking "Well that means you should get to know me better."<br />
<br />
No, it doesn't.<br />
<br />
As a woman, one thing I think about to the point of it being reflex is "Is this person dangerous?" or put another way, <a href="http://kateharding.net/2009/10/08/guest-blogger-starling-schrodinger%E2%80%99s-rapist-or-a-guy%E2%80%99s-guide-to-approaching-strange-women-without-being-maced/">are you Shrodinger's Rapist?</a> After all, date rape being so prevalent (far more common than "stranger danger"), I am on the look out for warning signs. The big warning signs include inability to respect boundaries and impulse control issues (including temper). Even if those behaviors don't mean the person is a rapist, it certainly indicates there are some other huge potentially dangerous issues. After all, when we first meet someone to establish a relationship, even if it is only a friendship, we are often on our best behavior. If, very early on, a person demonstrates very low social iq as well as anger management problems, he might not be a rapist. He might JUST be abusive or severely emotionally stunted. Either way, the behavior signals to me that the probability of this person being at the very least an emotionally unhealthy partner and the very worst a physically violent rapist is significantly higher than average. Therefore, I'm not going to waste more time getting to know him. I'm going to chuck him into the reject pile and keep going.<br />
<br />
Basically, here's the short short version. If a woman (or man) rejects you early on, insulting them to their face only confirms that he/she is correct to reject you. You're confirming his/her suspicion that you are not a wise romantic choice. If you do make the mistake of letting your anger get the best of you, you can't turn back the clock especially with some kinds of insults. Once you call me a fat cunt, there is no chance, none, I will ever go out with you. Ever. So if you're angry in the moment, find some other way to express it because if you try to ask me out after insulting me like that, all you're doing is showing me why you're still single: namely you don't have a clue about how to talk to women and I'm not going to take the time to teach you.Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-38795363410686715712012-11-04T13:30:00.000-05:002012-11-05T22:27:32.129-05:00A Pledge for One Random Act of Kindness by the End of 2012<div class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">Update: According to the GISHWHES twitter feed, we did, in fact, break the world's record and came through with 100,000 Random Acts of Kindness. We broke a world's record people. Spiritual chocolate martinis for all of you. (But if you can, still donate.) </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">Dear Readers, </span></span></span></div>
<div class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<br /></div>
<div class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent"> In the continuing aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, every
day I'm presented with opportunities to help others. Actually, it seems
like every hour. </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">
Yesterday I received an email by a fellow New Yorker about how children were
foraging in the garbage at Coney Island for food so a couple drove out
there with sandwiches and water. In another email, a woman drove out to Staten Island to rescue someone's Russian grandfather who was without power. Every day, I receive requests for
clothing donations for various drives.</span></span></span> Of course, not all of us can afford to drive out to Coney Island or give to every worthwhile clothing drive, but we can all help each other even if it's as simple as passing on traffic information to help with the now treacherous NY commutes, Random
Acts of Kindness are not hokey, but important.</span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">It's easier in the wake
of a tragedy to see how the simple act of offering a bottle of water or a
sandwich can have a huge impact, but the fact is this is true every
day. Every day, there are small ways we can help one another. As such it's apropos that I'm taking part in a Guinness World Record attempt to get 100,000 people to pledge to do a Random Act of Kindness before the end of 2012.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">100,000 might seem like a lot, but really it's not as this is a huge team effort with over 100 teams attempting to get pledges. I actually only need 7 people to pledge to do my part, but of course, the more the merrier and the happier the world will be. All you need to do is click on the link at the bottom, and you will become part of a group of people who want to make the world better....and break a world record in the process.</span></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You don't even have to use your own name! Just click the link or cut and paste, enter my email, misslapinAtgmailDOTcom, in the referrer field and DONE. </span><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent"></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://cluster.gishwhes2012.com/pledge.php">Click here to pledge</a>, or copy and paste this link into your browser: <a href="http://cluster.gishwhes2012.com/pledge.php" rel="nofollow nofollow" target="_blank">http://<wbr></wbr><span class="word_break"></span>cluster.gishwhes2012.com/<wbr></wbr><span class="word_break"></span>pledge.php</a></div>
Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-53707010684582697452012-10-30T13:03:00.001-04:002012-10-30T13:10:02.736-04:00I Survived The Storm of the CenturyJust a quick post to let you know that I'm totally safe and sound. I didn't even lose power. I'm using my time, right now, to clean and later to grade. Yesterday was mainly spent sitting at my computer refreshing emergency info waiting for the power to go out and cooking decadent food with my perishable items lest I lose them. So now I have spiced red lentils with eggs and yogurt and potatoes in cream sauce in addition to apples and protein bars.<br />
<br />
It hurts me that David did not bother to see if I was alright. After being such a dick, one text message asking if I was ok so out of the question? ( I suppose it is.) People I've never met on FB showed more concern. And this is something I've never understood. How can someone go from telling you that they care about you, that they will always care about you to this? For me, it's not possible. I always wonder about them. Even if I don't call. I wonder about them. I check in, from time to time, on their FB pages to see if they are ok. Nothing more. But I've never mastered being able to go from caring for someone to not in minutes, days, weeks. Even my students. I care about them, even after they leave my class and never think of me again. I think about them. Wonder what happens to them. Some stay in touch.<br />
<br />
Most don't.<br />
<br />
But I'm still here. Cleaning and, soon, grading as I wait to hear when the MTA might run again.Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-23799591871318652112012-10-24T23:55:00.000-04:002012-10-24T23:58:26.059-04:00eHarmony Doesn't Know How to Manage Your Break Up on Facebook Like I Do<div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix">
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<i>The following is text from an email sent to me by eHarmony. Now, let me ask you something, do you want break up advice from the people who do things like support Focus on Families or do you want break up advice from a woman who has dated roughly half the male population of NYC? Yeah, if there is anything I know how to do it's deal with a break up. My commentary is in italics. Enjoy.</i><br />
<br />
1. <b>Facebook is not your diary</b>. Just because you’re
on an emotional roller coaster doesn’t mean that those ups and downs
should be available for public consumption. Journal in private. Cry with
close friends. Just stay away from your computer when you’re tempted to
chronicle every stage of the breakup. <i>This is good general advice,
but yeah if you're sad and need company, put it on your fb. It's more
important your needs are met than you sit in your room alone crying because heaven forfend SOMEONE ON THE INTERNET SHOULD KNOW.</i><br />
<br />
<i></i><br />
2. <b>Don’t post sappy breakup songs</b>. Put them on your iPod and go for a jog instead.<i>Who the fuck jogs to sappy songs? Fuck that. GO TO KARAOKE. Put on I Will Survive. If you're thinking ahead, bring a boa. I'll bring the tambourine. Come to think it, if you can, rustle up some gay friends and have a total "break up" themed karaoke night. Sing Cry Me a River and Pink's So What and whatever the hell else makes you feel fabulous and fun. Because you are.</i><br />
<br />
<i></i><br />
3. <b>Avoid denial.</b> Take down that profile pic with you
as a couple. Don’t post a message on his wall as if you’re still
friends. Remove your relationship status (with as little fanfare as
possible). <i>That's not avoiding denial. You can do all those things
and still hope you will get back together. You shouldn't, but you might. This is more "Deal with the
breakup in a business like fashion." Dissolve your public association. In addition to this I suggest the Big Box of Sad. Put everything he gave you, pictures of you together, whatever things you associate with him into a box. Maybe put it in storage, maybe stow it under your bed. Maybe throw it in the East River. Your choice. I've stowed stuff until I was OK with it and then took it out, I've stowed stuff until I worked through my grief and THEN threw it out, and I've thrown stuff out immediately. Each break up is different and you need to weigh that, but definitely cutting down on remembrances in the immediate aftermath is a good idea. Make the decision quickly, and act swiftly.</i><br />
<br />
<i></i><br />
4. <b>Resist the Facebook rebound</b>. Don’t post photos of
you with cute members of the opposite sex. Don’t message other exes or
cute single “friends” out of discomfort for your new singleness. If you
catch yourself posting anything that you hope will make your ex jealous,
don’t do it. It’s a transparent move that will only make you look bad.<i> FUCK THAT. Post what you want. If you're out with a hot guy having the
time of your life or you stumble over Aaron Eckhardt and he agrees to
have a pic with you in his lap, POST THE HELL OUT OF IT. When one of my
exes dumped me, three days later I had 2 dates in one day and I posted
it on fb. Not because of him because I was like "Woooooooooooo go me. I forgot I was a hot mama."
And you know what? It drove him nuts. Later that night he was on his
knees in my apartment crying. Didn't make me look bad at all.</i><br />
<br />
<i></i><br />
5. <b>Don’t post cryptic notes about your ex or your emotional state</b>.
In fact, as a general note, don’t post cryptic notes on Facebook ever.
If you don’t want people to know why you’re sad, don’t insinuate that
you’re blue. <i>I dunno. I tend to think a little mystery is fun. Pretend your life is the Da
Vinci Code if that distracts you for a bit. Plant clues as to which of
your friends is actually the descendent of Jesus.</i><br />
<br />
<i></i><br />
6. <b>Don’t get friends involved.</b> Don’t comment on wall
posts by any of his/her friends. Don’t force mutual friends to defriend
him in order to stay in your good books. If you have to hide statuses
for a time, do so. <i>Look, here's the thing. Friends are going to be
involved if this was a long term relationship. They are going to feel like they have to choose sides no
matter what. Don't take this to FB but with close mutual friends, sit
down and have a talk about what this means. If you would prefer not to
see your ex for a time at parties etc let them know. In short, be an
adult.</i><br />
<br />
<i></i><br />
7.<b> Don’t betray your ex’s trust.</b> Keep it classy. Repeat this motto: No slander, no revenge posts — ever. <i>Oh
fuck that, fuck that, fuck that. Slander is not the same as betraying
someone's trust especially if they betrayed yours first. Don't slander
or libel people because that's the against the law. Also don't harass or
stalk them for similar reasons. However, if your ex betrayed your trust
by, say, telling secrets of yours to a gossipy friend and now the whole
world knows (Not that I've had that experience *cough*david*cough*),
you have no obligation to keep his/hers. For example if something comes
up in a fb thread and it's relevant for you to disclose that your ex
used to visit hookers while he was married. Have at it. Again, I ONLY
advise this in the case 1 he's already betrayed your trust 2.there is a
natural context for you to make such a disclosure. And by natural context, I mean absolutely every opportunity you can remotely twist into being appropriate for you to mention it.</i><br />
<br />
<i></i><br />
8. <b>Don’t try to convince him to return, or publicly beg for forgiveness</b>. <i>Of course not. He's the one who should be apologizing while crying and rending his garments.</i><br />
<br />
<i></i><br />
9. <b>Don’t use statuses and photos to announce that you’re having the best or worst time ever</b>.
Don’t try to make your ex miserable. (Nor should you be assuming that
she/he’s reading your Facebook wall. You shouldn’t be reading his/hers.)
<i>Again, screw that. If you're having a bad day, sometimes you need
commiseration. If you're on a date with David Tennant (which is weird
because he's married, but he played a Time Lord so maybe it's all good)
please tell your friends about your best day ever. Basically, post on
fb like your ex doesn't exist. Because to you he no longer does. Break ups are basically a very personal death. This person has died TO YOU. So hey, post what you want. This is about you and what you want and need to heal.</i><br />
<br />
<i></i><br />
10. <b>Never admit to Facebook stalking</b>. If you find
yourself checking out his Facebook page, never comment that you’ve been
there. Better yet, don’t check his page. Don’t write a status about the
picture he just posted or the life he’s leading without you. <i>Well
this seems incredibly obvious to me. You should probably block him, if not permanently at least for a short time to give yourself space to heal. If you don't, don't get thrown by what he posts immediately post break up.
I once had a boyfriend tell me in the aftermath of a break up (the first serious relationship I ended) that he was actually ok with it because he wasn't that into me anymore. It hurt, but you know what? It was like 8 years before he got another serious girlfriend so you know don't believe the hype. Give it time. Eventually he'll get his epic karmic bitchslap and by
that time you'll be canoodling with some other hot twit. That's the great thing about people. No matter how many you date, there are still more out there for you find.</i></div>
</div>
Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-66281453394562433962012-10-20T18:16:00.002-04:002012-10-20T18:16:32.593-04:00Please Forgive Our AppearanceSo a few weeks ago when I was trying to add a hits counter back to the blog, I accidentally screwed up the template. I was heartbroken as my good friend Blogmonkey made this template especially for me. It's true that I want to change my template (and I know what I want and just have to actually, you know, contact certain friends of minions of other assorted demons to GET ON IT ALREADY), but I didn't mean to change it THEN.<br />
<br />
Well, I just now figured out how to change it back and as I was looking at the sidebar...well, to say it's out of date is kind. So over the next few weeks I'll be updating sections (like where you can find my spanky new horror film reviews) and reconfiguring old ones (like the blogroll, which I'm sure needs a massive overhaul.) As a result, the posts themselves may be light but rest assured soon there will be some truly hawt Halloween pics to distract you.<br />
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Oh yes, there will be blood. (wink)Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-91528099132149229102012-10-18T21:00:00.001-04:002012-10-18T21:00:42.877-04:00Because Tomorrow May Rain But I'll Follow the SunThe last two weeks have been an epic shitshow. The type of shitshow where if I had to pick between having my spine removed without novocaine and living through the last two weeks, I'd be spineless right now.<br />
<br />
So this week didn't exactly inspire me with hope. Except.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I didn't want to wake up. I could sleep late with my cat. We snuggled, her purring loudly, despite the work men literally feet from my sleeping body until around 10:30. Even with the loudest of drills inches from my head, I didn't want to get up, but finally I roused myself. I made it, barely, to therapy. Afterwards, now awake and hungry, I decided to venture into Eric Kayser the new authentic French bakery. I fell in love the moment I walked in. CHOUQUETTE! THEY HAVE CHOUQUETTE. Chouquette are a mad obsession of mine because I believed that no place in NYC would ever make chouquette.<br />
<br />
I stand, happily, corrected.<br />
<br />
And Paris-Brest that tastes like divinity itself. Despite my fatassery, I bought both managing to resist the financiers and madeleines.<br />
<br />
I'm sure Proust would be proud.<br />
<br />
I walked down the sunny street, happily munching on buttery, sugary, airy chouquettes until I got to the park.<br />
<br />
I sat down and just enjoyed the sun and the people. It's not often I think nothing.<br />
<br />
I thought nothing.<br />
<br />
I watched a bit, but mainly I just felt the sun on my shoulders.<br />
<br />
It's not often I don't feel lonely.<br />
<br />
But I felt completely happy. Sitting. Alone. Not checking my phone. Not grading. Not talking. Not having to be anywhere.<br />
<br />
I kept telling myself I should go. I had papers to grade. Handouts to write. An apartment to tidy. But I just sat watching the turbulent water. Enjoying the sun. Listening here and there to dogs yipping and children playing but mainly just being detached from everything, achieving that rare nirvana like state that only french confections on a perfect fall day can instill.<br />
<br />
I was perfectly happily.<br />
<br />
For a moment, I thought of David. Of what he was missing. This perfect happy day. I wasn't missing him. No. He was missing it, wherever he was.<br />
<br />
And whether he knew it or not meant nothing to me.<br />
<br />
It's a little known fact that Optimism was actually a philosophical system based on the idea that if God is all knowing and beneficent this must be the best of all possible world for he could create no other. Most days I find that the most ridiculous, insulting belief.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, I thought it was possible. Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-25814788868972341412012-10-15T15:49:00.000-04:002012-12-29T21:05:24.993-05:00What Not to Do On a First DateI want to start this out by saying that I thought until Saturday the things I'm about to tell you are such common sense that even 11 year old Amish children know not to do them on dates. And yet. Never underestimate how 1 amazingly clueless people can be 2 those people will also find me. Not necessarily find me, but I'm more forgiving than most because I know how much more competitive it is to date in NYC is especially once you get to a certain age. Dating when I was 26 was not a problem.<br />
<br />
I'm 37. (I want to say "No, I'm not." But yes, yes I am. I may not LOOK 37 but I am in reality 37 years old.)<br />
<br />
I digress.<br />
<br />
So, this person chatting me up by email seemed like a decent person and so we moved to text messaging. And here began what should have been warning signs. The guy was CONSTANTLY texting me. This steady stream of really eager to please and amuse texts that did nothing but make me think 1 this dude is desperate and 2 he doesn't date much.<br />
<br />
What should have been the kiss of death is when he asked me by text if any of the photos on my profile were doctored. I replied that they weren't because...well they aren't. His response? "Oh because, and I'm sure you know this, you have really nice knockers."<br />
<br />
Now I know from the word choice this was an attempt at a humorous compliment. It made me want to punch him in the cock. One thing I truly hate is men asking or complimenting me on my breasts early on. Where you all raised in a Hooters? Seriously. I know I have the body of a pin-up model. And yes, there are times it's appropriate to compliment me. First meeting? No. Before the first meeting? No. Sure you compliment my appearance, but don't go into sexyland straight away.<br />
<br />
The reason why this comment didn't get him fired is he offered to take me to dinner at Po, a Mario Batali restaurant in the Village. For some choice vittles, I'm willing to forgive a crass statement. Still the text messages, which seemed increasingly shrill and desperate, worried me.<br />
<br />
When I met him on the date it was clear he didn't really understand where to take a date. We met at a kind of Irishy sports place downtown to "Get to know each other." He, almost immediately, unasked told me intimate details about his relationship with his ex-girlfriend including such stellar details as "She was more into me" and "she wasn't always clean in certain places, which wasn't pleasant."<br />
<br />
YES HE ACTUALLY SAID THAT.<br />
<br />
Let me take a moment to address the ex-girlfriend issue. If you're like me and dated roughly half the male population of NYC, it's hard not to mention ex-boyfriends. And yet I don't. The only time I mention an ex-boyfriend on a first date is if specifically asked a question like "Why did your ex dump you?" (Which you shouldn't ask but people do.) But even if an ex-boyfriend story slips, there are two things you don't do 1. talk negatively about your ex 2. talk about him or her intimately. First off you don't talk about their sex life or hygiene or whatever because ewwww I don't know this person and I don't need to know that. Second, being intimate with someone makes one vulnerable. Even if there is no love. Even if it's a friends with benefits deal. There's still a vulnerability there that deserves to be respected. No woman, or hopefully man, wants to be with someone who would so cavalierly mock a lover particularly a long term one. Not to mention,what the hell does that say about your self-esteem?<br />
<br />
I told him, point blank, that he should never talk about me that way. He didn't seem upset by the comment, but I don't know if he heard me either. I don't think he quite got it.<br />
<br />
For dinner, he chose the exceptionally small, crowded, and loud Po, which had wonderful food, but was not a good getting to know you place. Another indication of his low social IQ, but even more worrying was his statement half way through the meal "Either you're hanging on my every word or you're drugged." This was the height of the dinner crush at Po and I just didn't feel like yelling casual conversation. At that point I knitted my eyebrows and explained that if I tried to casually converse in that din I wouldn't have a voice. A few minutes later he made the same admission it was too loud. OK genius if it was too loud, then why the accusation? When I tried to explain I had an analytical mind that looks for patterns he responded "Oh you mean like OCD." NO NOT LIKE OCD AT ALL. OCD is about trying to impose order on a disordered universe. Being analytical is looking for patterns that actually exist and figuring out what they mean. In other words, it's called BEING SMART ASSHAT.<br />
<br />
He also shared with me stories about two previous dates that week. The first one, a week back, he took to Red Lobster. After which, they went back to his car, she took his cock out, but then refused to go with him to a hotel.<br />
<br />
YES HE TOLD ME THIS.<br />
<br />
The second date, the night before, he took to Gray's Papaya because "That's where she wanted to go."<br />
<br />
Whether your date takes your cock or not, recent dates are also not appropriate topic for first dates. But yeah, telling me about your post Red Lobster crotch fest is definitely right.fucking.out.<br />
<br />
At this point, I.was.done. After dinner, we walked to yet another crowded cheap dessert place. We sat outside and by this time I was done with it.He made yet another negative comment and I replied " You do really like to pathologize all my responses to you." At which point, I brought up that he had called me mentally ill and accused me of drug use. I totally flattened my affect. My face and voice gave no indication of any emotion, either pleased or pained. Suddenly he felt "Uncomfortable." I told him it was interesting that someone who was so comfortable being negative about others had such a low discomfort threshold himself. After all, he spent most of the night talking, and what little he said to me was not complimentary (although I don't think he thought of it as insulting). In fact, when he tried to get me to talk about myself he could not come up with ONE QUESTION to ask me. NOT ONE. He basically just said "Tell me about yourself." I asked him what he wanted to know and he simply repeated the question. He actually couldn't come up with a question because the only thing I'd really said about myself was to talk about my job early in one. His response? "You seem really passionate about that. Let's change the subject."<br />
<br />
I'M SORRY WHAT?<br />
<br />
Showing interest in things IS GOOD. If someone is passionate about their job and you don't feel anything say something neutral like "I wish I enjoyed my job that much" or "It must be wonderful to be that motivated/involved in your career." It's not trying to solve cold fusion people. It's basic manners. Basic.<br />
<br />
Finally, he couldn't handle being uncomfortable and wanted to end the date without waiting for us to order dessert at which point I got up. He went to walk to me a cab at which point I told him in no uncertain terms I did not WANT him too. I stalked off to a cab.<br />
<br />
Later that night I got this text message, "I would not feel right if I went to bed tonight without saying this; I had a very nice time with you! I just think that your intellect maybe just go [sic] the better of me! It was really awkward for me! I really cannot let you think I'm a total creep! I did not want you to get up and walk away unescorted! I am sorry! Good night, and I hope you find a more compatible person to be with!" Now first of all no one, not even 14 year old girls who are still upset with Kristen Stewart on behalf of Robert Pattinson use that many exclamation points in a single text. I explained to him that I didn't think he was a creep, just someone with very low social IQ who has no idea what he sounds like to the outside world. I further informed him that I DID NOT WANT TO BE ESCORTED, which I made clear. No apologies for actually respecting my wishes, but lastly I didn't accept his apology because I believe it was motivated by his discomfort and not any genuine concern with my upset as his apology in no way addressed the topics it should have. That, of course, was confirmed by the response to text. Finally, I was reduced to texting him this. "Stop texting me. Just stop."<br />
<br />
The response? "Out!"<br />
<br />
All I can say is I've never been out with a 14 year old girl before, but I bet they are less annoying and fragile than that dude. Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-35685761594461934402012-10-03T14:18:00.000-04:002012-10-03T14:18:22.613-04:00Insta KarmaMy father used to say that seeking vengeance is wasted energy because the common denominator of all human existence is suffering. We all suffer. Not at the same time or from the same thing, but we do all suffer so, by this extended logic of his, seeking vengeance is unnec. The universe in all its glory will take care of it for you.<br />
<br />
Personally, I thought that was a load of shit designed to try and make me feel better about being disabled. Sure all my little friends were playing soccer and running races NOW but someday they too would feel the isolation, the sadness, the frustration of suffering even if it was caused by something different. I humored my father mainly because living while disabled takes up enough energy as it is and when you add two perfectionistic parents to that mix I hardly had the time to think up a nuanced philosophical objection to my father's claim.<br />
<br />
This, it turns out, is a good thing because he was actually pretty right.<br />
<br />
Still, sometimes the universe needs a little bit of a nudge.<br />
<br />
About five years ago, I wrote a post called Rage Sing Goddess about the end of my relationship with a particularly batshit insane performance artist and fellow blogger named Ivan the Horible (sic.). At the time I wrote it, I was so angry I had to walk away from the computer several times because I was literally shaking with rage. When I finally hit send, I felt purged and then immediately felt terrified. I'd never publicly targeted another writer. Perhaps the Blogosphere would rise up in a unified wave of disapproval to let me know what I did was Not OK.<br />
<br />
Instead what happened was two of his so called friends thought the post was so funny, they circulated via email and on their blogs. As a result, it became one of the single most popular posts I've ever written. The triumph was nothing short of sublimely beautiful.<br />
<br />
I bring this up because yesterday's post is currently raking in over 3 times the number of readers of my recent posts so obviously I got someone's attention. And that in and of itself makes me feel better. Thanks for being a part of that.<br />
<br />
<br />Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-57152003283040197502012-10-02T17:46:00.000-04:002012-10-02T17:49:07.246-04:00How do you like my darkness now David?Those faithful followers of the blog know I protect the identities of those I write about as much as possible. After all, I write under a nom de plume myself so I try to protect my subjects. (Granted my alter ego now has far more online presence than my real one.) So while crazy asshats I've dated by the bushel, I've done my best not to out them here.<br />
<br />
But there comes a time when assholery must be exposed and I've done that too. There's a certain time when it becomes a public service and I consider my job to protect the general population from men that even a hardened professional like myself finds so abhorrent I've called in a favor or two ensure they go to the special hell saved for child molesters. Some of my best blogs have been when I got all het up with the passion of Nemesis and let some utter deserving rat fucker have the full force of my divine wrath."Somebody get me a gallon of kerosene and a lighter because I'm gonna burn this bridge." Afterward I'm gonna sow the ashes with salt so for years after people will see the barren earth and know the legend of David-he who stooped to conquer.<br />
<br />
Tonight Dave, you get to join those few, those pathetic few, to whom I have given a name on this blog. But even amongst them you are unique.You went farther than all of them. I loved you. I did. And because of that I put up with so much horseshit, you showing up at my apartment so shitfaced you didn't know what day it was, abandoning me in the middle of the night in PA, calling me one day to say you want to take me to Paris and two days later to tell me you don't think we can be friends. And I put up with it for 2 single reasons. One despite all of that, I loved you because underneath all the bullshit, so I thought, was a truly precious individual struggling to get out. And two you were the only person in my entire life who saw beauty in my disability and that alone is worth a small truckload of horseshit.<br />
<br />
So when you read this please understand what you have done. Not only do I no longer believe there is anything worthwhile about you, I think you're the monster. Because if you ever cared for me. If you ever loved me. The idea of what you did would make you never stop throwing up and I should know. Because even AFTER you've done this, I've still pretty much refrained from doing anything terrible to you...and I totally, and easily, could.<br />
<br />
Let me begin by saying this: I understand if men...or women don't want to hear from me again. A month ago a guy told me that after date three. And know what? Totally fine with that. The guy I dated for three years and dumped me by text message? Cut him off. When he came sniffing around 6 weeks later, I told him to fuck off. Haven't contacted him since.<br />
<br />
But here's the thing don't then text that you're trying to call me and when I call back have a third party intercept the call and say "He doesn't want to talk to you anymore." What kind of fucked up fourth grade bullshit is that? I mean the mind fucking boggles. Why not just text me to leave you alone? AFTER ALL I BLOCKED YOUR PHONE NUMBER SO YOU COULDN'T CALL ME. Seriously? This was your... killer move after I've been dealing with your drunken shenanigans for months? This is what I get for when you showed up at my place unannounced so shit faced you didn't know what day it was or what time and I still took care of you. While you lay in my bed and I sat outside reading so you could rest and then when I talked to you when you said you wanted to die. The price of my friendship, the price of that evening out of which I got nothing including babysitting money, is so cheap to you you decide to stoop where no man before sought to bend. Not to mention it has cost me the belief than anyone can find beauty in my disability.<br />
<br />
Let me remind you of something David. No man has ever destroyed me. Many have tried. All have failed. But I, in my time, have a few scalps to my name. When Eric left, I became cruel and I openly admit I destroyed some people just because I could. Since then I vowed to be a kinder gentler sex monster. But you didn't just awaken the beast. You pissed in its face. There's only so much anyone can take.<br />
<br />
And I do have a mean streak. And when I warn you again and again don't fuck with the monster. Then don't fuck with it. Because I save everything. Every raunchy email. Every secret text. I have pages and pages of journal entries, plane tickets, presents, trinkets, hell friends who know who you are. And here's why you don't want to fuck with me. You can't do anything. Not one damn thing to stop me partially because I have both evidence and the first amendment on my side (yes I actually researched this when I started bunniblog so I'm solid on my first amendment law). But also because I have this tiny pathetic life already so there's nothing you CAN take from me.<br />
<br />
You, on the other hand, have lots of fun things to gamble and loose.<br />
<br />
A friend of mine last night asked me why not just let it go? Why not let it go?! A valid question. After all, that's precisely what I've done so many times before with Mr. 3 Years Text Message Break Up. I just walked away. I spend my entire life turning the other cheek. When people stare at me in hatred because of what I look like, when men openly LAUGH at me on the street on my way to work, students openly betting on how tall I am, I turn the other cheek. It's a choice. But do not get me wrong, it hurts. Not just casual disdain, but the lack of empathy. I can feel your pain, but you refuse to feel mine. A reminder of just how alone, how different I am from all of you. And what's worse is you have so much you take for granted. The ability to run upstairs, feel the sand beneath your feet, not have to worry about what people think of the scars and the deformity not to mention the severely shortened life span. How many things have I lost because I lost the neuroblastoma lottery?And I wouldn't mind losing it if you all appreciated what you have. But you don't even think about it and when you see me instead of feeling grateful for what you have, you revile me for what I can't.<br />
<br />
And every day I turn the fucking other cheek. It is exhausting and depressing and aggravating, but I do it.<br />
<br />
But there comes a time when someone does something so spectacularly cruel, something that I absolutely can not countenance. For someone so goddamned lucky to openly, publicly, spit in the face of someone that only hours ago he claimed to care? No. Actions have consequences. And if I have to live with this chest sucking pain that I don't deserve you can goddamn well bet I'm going to take someone deserving down with me.<br />
<br />
For now, I've only identified the person by first name. But I have all kinds of tricks up my sleeve and Dave would do well to remember that when I started this blog it was to warn the world about another grade A rat fucker. It seems fate has played a hand with public enemy number one and his life, currently, is precisely what he feared the most it would be. So I'm content to just giggle when I see his completely bald head on fb (he's 7 years younger than me but MAN he did not age well). But long ago, this blog was a top search result for his name. You wanna play rough? Just remember it's hard to win against someone with nothing to lose.<br />
<br />
And as for the rest of you, a question. What would you do? If someone you loved and forgave time and again did something so vile you not only can't forgive, you can barely begin to contemplate, what would you do? Turn the other cheek? Seek vengeance? Have you before? I'm curious.(Oh on a side note. My halo scan comments expired so you have to use blogger comments. For some reason the comment box ONLY appears when you click on the particular post so scroll down to the bottom, hey look, you're here already! Click on the time stamp. Two comment boxes will appear. Use the blogger one. Anyone can comment, even anonymously same as before. Enjoy. And anyone who wants to help me with formatting shit in regards to comments, please email me and misslapin@gmail.com . Thanks.) Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-73914070011804932452012-10-01T23:18:00.004-04:002012-10-01T23:19:35.343-04:00A Million Years Ago Tonight**<span id="internal-source-marker_0.30725288171962784" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> **<span style="font-size: x-small;">This was originally written for my ex-boyfriend while we were dating. This is what happened a year ago today. What a difference a year makes, eh? The comments about editing, which I left it, are from the original draft and are quite prescient considering. The title comes from a song that I sang in acting school called "The Night that Nothing Really Happened." </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">For me to
write something like this, I actually re-experience the memory. My
memory is very vivid and so it’s literally like going back in time and
reliving something. In fact, when I went back to edit this I noticed I
slowly shifted from past to present tense as I got further into the
piece. The more I immerse myself in the memory, the more it becomes the
present. While this may sound wonderful, in reality, it’s very
depressing. It’s one thing to experience a moment while you’re living it
not knowing the outcome, it’s another thing to go back into a memory
and re-experience it knowing what will happen next. For example, if I
relive a memory of my ex-boyfriend. When I come out of that memory, I go
through losing him all over again.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">You
kept looking at my body that day. You had looked before, quickly, but
generally you kept eye contact. I honestly didn’t think you were that
attracted to me until that afternoon. You kept taking long lingering
looks down my body, my breasts, my spine, my ass. I was supposed to have
a date that night, but I had a bad feeling about it, so I liked the
attention. It made me feel sexy even though I wasn’t trying to be. We
sat and talked as we always do, and you made me laugh.It distracted me from my anxiety about the date.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Then
my date, predictably, cancelled at the 11th hour. You invited me to
your place to watch movies. I knew I shouldn’t go. I had been drinking. I
was upset. These are things that do not make for good decision making. I
left and almost got home and realized where the night was going. I
would go home, get more upset, go out, get trashed, get more upset, wake
up the next day with eyes swollen shut crying and depressed. Or I could
go see you. I called and went to see you.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I
remember walking into your apartment. I hadn’t known what to expect,
but it was beautiful. I sat on the floor of your man cave and picked out
a movie. I was nervous about it. I wanted it to be something we would
both want to watch, but you weren’t helpful in that regard at all. You
wanted it to be my choice entirely, what I wanted. I picked Snatch and
went into the living room. You brought me a globe of wine, which I
probably shouldn’t have had.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">At
first, I was sitting straight as I always do. In acting school I was
the only person who never got yelled at for poor posture. All those
years in a back brace made me sit up straight all the time, but the wine
took hold of me and after a time I found myself reclining on the couch.
I was so relaxed, dreamy and content. This was actually much nicer than
the date. Finally you took my hand. It was the first time you had
really touched me. Your hand was so soft and warm. It was sweet.
Innocent even. I knew I should pull away, but I was so relaxed, so
happy, it felt so good and it was just my hand after all. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">After
a while, you kissed me. I think I was as surprised as you were that you kissed me. It was a soft hesitant kiss. Gentle. No one had kissed me like
that in years. It was a sweet kiss-vulnerable. But the second and third
were passionate, hungry. You pulled me to you, I could feel the strength
in your arms, like feeling them wrapped around me, pulling me closer.
You commented that I was a good kisser that you knew I would be. I don’t
think it had occurred to me that you ever thought of kissing me before.
I could feel your hands exploring my body caressing my breasts, my ass.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">
I was surprised by how willing you were in your passion. Then, you
suddenly came to, said “I can’t do this” and we went out on the balcony
to talk. I loved the view. I hadn’t had a view like that since grad
school. It was pleasant out on the balcony. I expected you to ask me to
leave, but you didn’t. I knew that you would kiss me again, that you
wanted to kiss me again. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">We
laid down on the couch, and you started to kiss me, you pulled me onto
your lap, your hands pushing my skirt to my waist. I was wearing a thong
so I was basically half naked. You took my shirt off and ran your hands
over my skin. You started to pull off your pants. I was surprised. I
didn’t think it would go beyond kissing. I told
you we could just lay on the couch and kiss, but now you were committed
to taking me to bed. You stood up to take me to the bedroom and I asked
you if you were sure. You grabbed my hand and pulled me back into your
room.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">You
got me naked quickly. I lay on the bed
while you got naked. Then you were standing at the foot of the bed
completely nude, me lying there waiting. In that moment, I was
terrified. I was terrified of what you would think of me for doing this,
that you would hate me, that we wouldn’t be friends anymore, I was
terrified of what you would think of my body, that I would be a
disappointment in bed. I was even terrified of you. I didn’t expect you
to be so well endowed and I was worried it might hurt. I was terrified
that you didn’t really want me, that I was just a placeholder for someone else, someone absent. I was terrified of myself, how much I wanted
this to happen, how much I wanted you to want me. Then you came towards
me on the bed.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">You
wrapped your arms around and me whispered “Anything but missionary
position” twice. I wasn’t sure why. My first thought was you wanted some
sort of exotic sexual position. I mean, of course, I’m kind of a
fetish-y looking girl, that’s why men want me, so why not? You pulled me
on top of you, and I was surprised how easily we fit together. There
was no pain at all, just pleasure as I rode you while you explored my
body with your hands, on my waist so you could thrust deeper inside me,
cupping my ass as my breasts brushed against you. You even spanked me a
few times. Even though you didn’t enjoy it, I was surprised how hard you
spanked me. Most people start light, but not you, you gave me a
pleasant spank from the beginning. I could feel my skin tingle
afterwards.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Finally
you put me on my back. I was worried. This was the position you didn’t
want and I wanted please you, to be what you wanted. But you were so
much deeper that way, I brought my legs up as far as I could and lifted
my hips with each of your thrusts so you could go even farther. I could
feel my orgasm beginning to rise within me. I was surprised how easily
you could get me there. Usually it takes weeks before I allow myself to
go that far with a man, but I trusted you already. I could make a
choice. I could stop it if I wanted to, or I could let myself go. I let
myself go. I wanted you to feel me come. And soon I was, bucking and
screaming and gushing. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">In those moments, I was entirely yours. Not just my body, all of me. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">After
I came, still trembling, you rolled off of me and came. I remember
watching the ropes of come spurting from you, how hard you came. I was
impressed. I had given you pleasure, which is what I wanted.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">After
a moment, you went to the bathroom to clean up. I lay unmoving on the
bed. Again, I was worried. Worried you would ask me to leave. Worried
what you would say now that the moment was over. You came back to bed. I
could tell you felt a little nervous, awkward. I reached for your hand
and pulled it over me so you were cupping my breast from behind. I love
that position. You immediately curled around me, both of us relaxed now,
enjoying being so close. It was even more intimate than the lovemaking.
I could feel your breath on my neck. I felt safe and content, and I
fell right to sleep enfolded by you.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Still,
I slept fitfully. My earrings kept stabbing me, but I was afraid to
take them off in case I forgot them. Finally I took them off. Later I
was thirsty. I didn’t want to disturb anything in the kitchen so I took
one of your vitamin waters from the dining room. And after that I was
hot. Your body generates so much heat that lying next to you I kept
waking up sweating and throwing off the covers. You would wake up and
cover me back up. I didn’t want to disturb you, but finally I said
something and you turned on the AC. But every time I woke up, you would
reach out and caress me or snuggle me. I remember in the night, you got
up to watch tv for a while. You asked if that was alright, which was
sweet. I said yes and immediately fell back to sleep. When you came back
in, you snuggled against me. I could tell you enjoyed coming back to
curl up with me, enjoyed how I sleepily and instinctively snuggled into
your arms. Every time you reached for me re-assured me and I would fall
back asleep.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">In
the morning, I woke up with my head on your chest. We were entangled in
each others arms and legs. You gently put me on my back and kissed my
breast while your hand explored between my legs. You found how wet I was
already and took me. Again I was worried about the position. I wanted to please you. But
from the moment you entered me, I could feel how close I was to coming.
Again I was surprised how easily you could get me to that point. I gave
into you entirely and came again, gushing over you. You came soon after.
We lay under the covers for a bit talking after that. I wanted to spend
the whole day under there with you, kissing, snuggling, making love,
talking, napping. I knew as soon as we got out of bed this would be
over. You wouldn’t do it again.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">But
you had a funeral to go to. I picked up my earrings and started to get
dressed. As predicted, while I was still naked you started to tell me
how you were sorry but this couldn’t ever happen again. I smiled and
said I know, even though not a woman alive wants to hear that when she’s
naked and only just stopped trembling from love making. Still, I’m used
to it. I got dressed, careful to erase any trace of me. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">You
gathered up the sheets. You were nervous. I was sure you were going to
freak out about this evening and not want to see me ever again. I left
you in the elevator. I walked out with my head held high. I’ve learned
that much from my mother. Never, ever, show shame even if you feel it.
Let the doorman think what he wants, I had a lovely night so fuck his
judgement. I stood outside in the sun and put on my sun glasses feeling
sexy and happy and alive and even though you told me this could never
happen again, I walked all the way down to first avenue just in case the
morning staff of dorrians was there so they wouldn’t see me walking
from the direction of your apartment in my clothes from the day before. I
went to my apartment and napped for a bit.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">What
you don’t know is that night I did go on my date. He was young (25),
tall, blonde, seemingly nice, however, I walked out on him. He had some
terrible political views and instead of doing what I would normally do
and just smile and nod and wait for the date to be over, I decided he
wasn’t worth my time and I just got up and left. I went home and to
sleep. I was supposed to see you the next day. I wasn’t sure I would,
but I hoped so. I was looking forward to just being with you and
talking, which is precisely what happened.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
And then a week later, you kissed me in the sun in Central Park. Never has a way of coming around far too soon.Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-21839932638106376912012-09-24T20:20:00.002-04:002012-09-24T20:24:08.768-04:00What I do When I'm not Attempting to Have a Social Life or Bitching About Attempting to Have a Social LifeA few weeks ago I was asked to start writing horror film reviews again. It came at the perfect time as I was more and more motivated to write on my own, and we all know how much I enjoy having an excuse to gripe about the latest craptastic horror film like Sharkopath vs Roachosaur (OK I admit, I would totally watch that).<br />
<br />
Of course it took me a bit to adjust, but now it seems I've figured out all the ins and outs of how to post so go and feast your eyes on my latest review: <a href="http://www.horrorgoreandmore.com/flicks-by-decades/2010s/deadheads-2011/">Deadheads-a light hearted zombie odd couple road trip rom com</a>. I'm serious. While not as developed as say Shaun of the Dead or zombie Honeymoon, it's a fabulous popcorn movie and particularly impressive since this was the Pierce Brothers' first feature film. Makes me excited to see what they are going to do next.<br />
<br />
I've gotta a bunch of reviews lined up so if you're into horror, I encourage you to check the site for updates frequently. Go gimme five stars. Post links on your Facebook. Compose songs to my greatness. In the meanwhile, I'll be figuring out what the hell to teach America's future (wince) tomorrow in class. That's the real horror.Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-44536301366699417002012-09-23T13:24:00.001-04:002012-09-24T15:07:30.612-04:00Of Threesomes and Detachable ArmsSo last week, I got my hair done. As always dealing with gay hairdresser left me feeling fabulous and sexy and I wanted to go out that night. So I proceeded to text every person I know in NYC.<br />
<br />
Everyone was busy. Sigh.<br />
<br />
In light of this, I decided to go to dinner at this tavern by where I live. I often having working dinners at the bar as many other people do. The regulars have a kind of loose community there so even if I'm there alone, it's likely someone I know will be there and at least there will be some pleasant chat. So I'm sitting at the bar enjoying a salad when this guy proceeds to hit on me with subtly of a water buffalo. I don't mean he was crass, but from the moment he walked in he focused only on me. Which I found kinda weird because there lots of attractive single women around, but he was decent looking and pleasant to talk to so, hey. Not bad. We shared an order of dessert and he walked me home. I admit at the doorstep there was some canoodling, he took my number, and walked away. I firmly expected never to hear from him again.<br />
<br />
Last Friday night my phone rings. I was in the middle of watching this hilarious horror zombie road trip rom com type deal planning on having an early night and hitting the farmer's market in the morning. But this guy called and asked if maybe I would like to meet him for dessert and I thought to myself, "It's Friday night. You have no other plans this weekend. If you don't go meet this guy, tomorrow night you'll be lonely and whiny." So I said "Give me 20 minutes to freshen up and I'll be there." Exactly 20 minutes later, I walked into the tavern where we met.<br />
<br />
It was unexpectedly dead.There were literally only 6 people at the bar-a group of 3, a group of 2, and a single man near the end of the bar. I figured the single man was my target until as I walked by the group of three my "date" turned around.<br />
<br />
Part of the reason why I had ignored the group of three was this: it was composed of 2 girls and a guy and one of the girls seemed very friendly with the guy. Basically not the scenario I was expecting. The girls seemed put off by my presence and didn't acknowledge me at first, instead trying to draw my dates attention by asking him questions. When it became clear this tactic wasn't going to work, they shifted and began talking to me-where was I from, what did I do. The "friendly" girl revealed unprompted that she was a Columbia grad and her friend a Harvard grad. So now the name of the game was intellectual intimidation, which didn't work either. Partly because I'm well educated myself and partly because having worked at some reputable institutions of higher education, I know you can be brilliantly book smart and still have the functional intelligence of a brain damaged grape.<br />
<br />
So basically I knew from the moment I walked in no matter how this played out, I was walking home alone that night. What happened next was, admittedly, surprising.<br />
<br />
Friendly girl turns to me and says, point blank, "Is this your boyfriend?" Which I say "No." I mean, honestly, this was technically our first date so no, no he wasn't. She then turns to my "date" and says "I'd like to ask you out on a date. Nothing fancy, just a casual dinner and drinks." Uncomfortable silence. "I'm sorry I'm just sick of waiting for guys to ask me out."<br />
<br />
Now my "date" could have, before I arrived, pawed off these girls by saying he was waiting for someone. He didn't. So I knew from second one he was off the list. You invite me out and 20 minutes later you're ensconced in conversation with 2 women and you haven't mentioned that you invited a woman to join you? You're fired. But you're fired out of a cannon when a woman makes a play like that and your response is basically to smile and not answer. The correct response is to politely decline and indicate that you're already with someone ( ie me).<br />
<br />
At this point I began to laugh to myself that only this shit happens to me. The other girl, silent and serious, walked up my date and whispered something to him very intensely before walking to the bathroom. I look at him. "She's a philosopher. She told me that you can only focus on this moment and to remember everything. You have to admit it's deep." Maybe to a puddle, but not to my mind. The serious girl returned only to announce she was leaving. Apparently she had received a booty call (or intelligently had gone to the bathroom in order to fake one) leaving me with friendly girl.<br />
<br />
At this point, my date began asking to go back to my apartment. Under no circumstances was THAT happening. Standards, I has them. If he had been upfront with friendly girl, I would have considered some kissing on the couch, but as it was it seemed like he wanted to save her for a rainy day and enjoy me while the weather was lovely. I explained that I had been indoors all day and was enjoying my tea. After all, it was actually not that late so why not enjoy a little of the nightlife in NYC?<br />
<br />
He put to me again that he wanted to go back to my place a few times and I, again, explained that I wanted to finish my pot of tea in a leisurely manner. After these few exchanges, friendly girl got even more flirty and aggressive. Because I'm me, and I already knew what my outcome was for the evening, I really didn't care. I was now involved in the situation as a writer, not a social entity. I just wanted to see what would happen.<br />
<br />
Friendly girl puts out that she would invite my date back to her place except that she has a friend staying on her couch and she lives in a studio so they wouldn't have privacy. Cue my date asking if all of us can go back to my place and "just watch a movie." I say no. He asks a few more times specifying that "There will no sex, no funny stuff." I explain I have a small one bedroom apartment. I only have room for two people to watch a movie. No joke. He keeps pushing. At first I thought it was funny and predictable, but then I started getting genuinely angry. The 12th time I said no in 3 minutes, I was not amused. He went to the bathroom at which point friendly girl said she would gladly bring liquor and drugs over to my place if I could host.<br />
<br />
And this is where I lost it.<br />
<br />
I said, "Let me get this straight. You're asking me if you can bribe me to come back with you and the guy who called me and asked me to come out tonight so you can fuck him in my bed." She kind of jerked back and than said, "I'm only asking this once. If the answer is no I won't ask again."<br />
<br />
People, you can not write this kind of comedy. You have to have truly fucked up karma as well as a morbid sense of curiousity and just let it wash over you.<br />
<br />
So I said, "No." At this point, I received a text from a male friend downtown. He's served as a white knight for me on more than one occasion so I explained that I might need his presence to help me out. As we texted, I turned away from them as they began discussion my lack of cooperation and alternative plans. Ten minutes later, without saying anything, they both left. The barrista came up and asked what happened to my friends. I smiled at her and said I only knew the one guy and not well at that. She looked at the door and then leaned into me, "He won't be the same after spending the night with her" gave me a pointed look and walked away.<br />
<br />
I had one more cup of tea by myself and walked home. I curled up with my cat and watched the end of the movie which ended with the hero predictably getting the girl, even though he was dead and his arm kept falling off. Considering the men of nyc, I'd gladly deal with that as long as they had something vaguely resembling decency and did actually care for me.Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-55784927691776023052012-09-18T16:10:00.003-04:002012-09-19T00:40:25.301-04:00IntentionI know what you're thinking. Sure, I've told you about the drama that triggered my sudden departure from blogging, but what about ...the men. Because you know there were men.<br />
<br />
Of course there were.<br />
<br />
As long as I breathe, I will be involved in some sort of totally inappropriate romance.<br />
<br />
Today, I do wish to talk a little bit about the end of one such romances and particular the word "intend." As I wrote previously, my boyfriend of three years dumped me by test message. He refutes this even though he did break up with my text message. How then does he refute it? By saying he didn't INTEND to do it that way. It IS what happened, however. I tried to explain to him that you can't say something didn't happen because you didn't intend it to happen. I actually had to explain, "If I walk outside and shoot a gun in the air and the bullet comes down half a mile away and SHOOTS SOMEONE**, they are still shot even though I didn't intend to hurt anyone. It's not like I can say 'Well, I didn't MEAN to shoot you' and then magically the bullet vanishes. Intention can only mitigate guilt, it can't completely expunge the incident or miraculous change what actually happened." (**This scenario was based on a real incident in which a man shot a gun in the air and the bullet came down half a mile away piercing a woman in the stomach.) Since he is an adult (older than I) with children and a very successful job, I didn't think I would actually have to explain how reality works.<br />
<br />
And yet...<br />
<br />
He continues to believe that he did not break up with my text message because he didn't mean to. I believe that reality can not actually be undone by intentions and therefore he did.<br />
<br />
It amuses me that even my break ups now have a kind of weird existential humor to them.<br />
<br />
The man I fell for after him also had a difficult time with the word intend. He's a very successful engineer. Again, he's older than I am, with children, having lived all over the world, pulling down a killer salary, speaks 3 languages.<br />
<br />
He's also, apparently, a complete and utter moron.<br />
<br />
I say this not JUST because he broke up with me (although that is a pretty good indication of moron state especially when you're fucking 50s and you should be thrilled to have the attention of a thirty something sex goddess, but I digress), but also he too thought that reality could be changed by intention.<br />
<br />
Time and again he did things that hurt me, things that COULD NOT POSSIBLY RESULT IN ANYTHING EXCEPT MY PAIN, I'm referring to among various things the time he told me I looked terrible and had put on weight when I was already suicidally depressed and weeping into the phone. I mean really. What man doesn't know you never EVER tell a woman that she's gained weight. Invariably, when I pointed out that his behavior seemed specifically designed to do nothing BUT hurt me, his response was "But I don't MEAN to hurt you." And I would have to explain how intention does not change the fact that he did in fact do something that was hurtful and now he had to deal with the consequences of that behavior.<br />
<br />
After a couple of months of hammering into his head that intention doesn't matter, he graduated to saying things like "You're the last person I want to hurt, but it seems like that's all I do." And again, I had to point out, if he really didn't want to hurt me, it was pretty easy to pull it off. There were specific behaviors I told him were hurtful. If he just STOPPED DOING THOSE THINGS like suddenly vanishing and not responding to calls, emails or texts for days, he would, in fact, stop hurting me. Again he would say "But I don't mean to hurt you when I do x,y, and z." To which I would respond "But you do. And you know that you do because I've told you. So now you can't say that you don't intend to hurt me when do something I've told you hurts me. If you continue to behave this way you do clearly intend to hurt me because you know you KNOW that is what is going to happen."<br />
<br />
He just kept saying he didn't mean to....and he kept doing shit he knew was hurtful.<br />
<br />
Anyway, in May he dumped me, but he still wanted to be friends. And because I am crazy, and I was in love, I agreed to try and be friends with a person I should have just fire bombed from space since it's the only way to be sure. Surprising absolutely no one, including me, he continued to be hurtful.<br />
<br />
Finally, he showed up at my apartment one night so drunk he didn't know what day of the week it was. I put him to bed and later he told me he wanted to die. This man I was taking care of. And I realized he didn't just want to die, he wanted to kill me doing it.<br />
<br />
So I did pull back. Time passed. I became convinced that he would not pull shit with me again.<br />
<br />
And then, of course he did.<br />
<br />
What happened is he called me and the phone call started off ok, but then, as usual, he manage to say something really hurtful near the end. This man. This man I took care of and counseled and put up with even after he dumped me. To make it worse that day was the one year anniversary of the first day we met.<br />
<br />
You might ask yourself why the hell I loved this twit considering what an epic douchecanoe he is. I will write about why I worked so hard to keep this asshat in my life. But that is not currently the point. The point is that a flurry of texts were exchanged mainly me saying he hurt me and he, out of nowhere, threatening to ruin my life.<br />
<br />
Now, the threat itself didn't scare me because my life is kind of pre-ruined. I have no idea what he thinks he was going to pull but yeah, he had nothing. But I was terribly hurt he would say that to me after all I done to try and help him.<br />
<br />
The next day I told him that I wanted only one thing from him: an apology.<br />
<br />
What he wrote was "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to threaten you."<br />
<br />
When you outright SAY you're going to ruin someone's life you have exited the realm of try and landed firmly in the country of HAVE. You have threatened me. Whether I find it a credibly threat or not, is not the point. It's a threat. But beyond that I'm left with the question "What other message could he be trying to convey?" I mean if he said he was hurt and lashed out it's one thing, but to say he didn't mean to threaten me when his statement was absolutely and only a threat. what does one do? My belief is generally the person is cray enough you set fire to something and run. Since this was a virtual conversation, I told him he was blocking his email and phone in 30 minutes so he had that time to say whatever he wanted.<br />
<br />
He wrote nothing. I finally typed good-bye.<br />
<br />
And here ends my lesson on how intentions do and do not interact with reality.<br />
<br />Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-50697739763491001222012-09-17T14:56:00.003-04:002012-09-17T14:56:57.031-04:00New Writing GigSo I'm now writing reviews for Horrorgoreandmore.com My first review is up at the site. The only problem is they used my real first name and not my nom de internet. If you go there, you can read the review AND find out my first name. (It's a twofer.) If you do, please give the review a five star rating (and thus give my ego a well needed stroke). Otherwise, I'll post a link here once they fix this issue.Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-2963102631164921002012-09-12T15:28:00.000-04:002012-09-12T15:30:27.779-04:00Welcome Back<span style="font-size: large;">It's been a while. About two years to be exact, but here I am again, the Bad Bunni herself. First I owe you an explanation.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Over the years I've received emails from readers asking me that if I ever stop blogging, to continue writing. I always assured them this would never happen. I've always been a writer, even if it was just journal entries.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But then it did.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">At first blogging became more and more of a Herculean effort. I had to, in some ways, blackmail myself into doing it. But I kept slogging on. Then my mother's boyfriend died, then my grandmother died, then I failed to get into grad school, and then the idiot I was dating dumped me by text message. All in less than a year. This triggered both a massive suicidal depression, which I am still fighting, and an honest to god existential crisis. I know, it sounds so unbelievably pompous but it happened. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So there I was struggling to just to function, to get up and go to work, and writing fell away. I didn't have the strength to fight to live AND to write. This became part of the depression as well because writing was always something I prided myself on and now it was gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">In the aftermath of 9/11, I became so depressed I couldn\t read. I couldn't focus long enough to read. It was terrifying because I love reading and I wanted to comfort myself by reading but couldn't. But then I discovered that I COULD read news articles. So I read the newspaper every day. Two months later, I read a novel by spring I could once again enjoy literature without effort.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I bring this up because the same thing happened with my writing. I thought I totally lost it, but this last month I've been writing more. And now I'm writing every day and more importantly it's part of my day I really enjoy rather than thinking its something I have to force myself to do.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Many folks think I should leave this blog and start fresh. I very well might. If I do, I'll post my new address here, but I wanted to explain why, after such a prolific couple of years I suddenly vanished without explanation.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I also wanted to post here because 9/11 was the start of Bunniblog. Oh it took a while for me to actually do it, but Bunniblog really began as a way for me to cope its my life in the aftermath of 9/11. It honestly took me YEARS to realize what I lived through and how it effected me. So here we are 11 years later, and I'm still processing. I'm still brought very low by the events that happened today. And yet, the point of the post is that depression lies. It tells you you have lost something wonderful that will never return, but it does. Or it is replaced by something new and exciting.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday was Worldwide Suicide Prevention day. As I said earlier, I've been struggling with suicidal depression for over a year. Some days I'm ok. Other days I can't stop thinking about how much I want to die. How little point there is for me to fight to live. But I do. <a href="http://www.thebloggess.com/">The Bloggess</a>, no stranger to depression herself, posted about it. She encouraged her readers to openly discuss their thoughts and experiences because often people at risk for suicide suffer in silence out of fear. She asked those of us with experiences to share why we were still here to give hope to others. I was going to comment, but realized I had too much to say so I'll say it here.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm here because when I've said I'm suicidally depressed my friends and family didn't judge me, but it instead got me the help, support, and medication I needed to recover.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm here because I have friends who are willing to drop everything and come over to watch a movie or help me take out the trash.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm here because there are a bunch of movies and tv shows that I want to watch and bunch of dishes I want to cook and a bunch of knitting projects I want to finish and books I want to read and places I want to go.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm here because my students do need me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm here because my body is stronger than imagined.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm here because I am lucky. I have done things that could easily have resulted in my death, yet it did not happen.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgse6QRCrrxFdXBoGSMctM-hYqKDtl4TJpiBhibgzGQlXP8aTeur0HbMmZTO6GpkM0jt26iY5KpcXML1s4mFvym1eu89zSfU8wjb1mo05QLn9xRpGHWpNp0_drUONurjhjKqx1L/s1600/P1010534.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgse6QRCrrxFdXBoGSMctM-hYqKDtl4TJpiBhibgzGQlXP8aTeur0HbMmZTO6GpkM0jt26iY5KpcXML1s4mFvym1eu89zSfU8wjb1mo05QLn9xRpGHWpNp0_drUONurjhjKqx1L/s320/P1010534.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Mainly I'm here because of my fatass cat. She's lying at my feet right now. I don't know if she understands this but she saves my life almost daily. I adopted her in October of 2001 mainly because I couldn't stand being alone. She cheers me up every day. Loves to snuggle. She purrs loudly in the morning when I wake up. That's all it takes to make her happy, is for me to be conscious. She makes me laugh with her ridiculousness. And her faces, she has hilarious faces. I can't say how many times I've made myself live because she would be sad without me and she's old now and she doesn't deserve to be abandoned again. I adopted her. I saved her so I can't suddenly stop saving her. Even when she annoys the crap out of me by sitting on papers, it's because she loves me and wants to be near me. And that is special because while I'm not a bad cat mom,I'm not the best one either. But she's devoted to me anyway. While I was typing this she parked her ass on the side of my iPad and began purring away, like she knew. Maybe it's because I'm crying or maybe she wanted to say what I think when I look at her,we saved each other. And it's not pathetic that I was saved by a cat because it's damn hard to find another being that accepts you as you are so if you find it whether it is a cat or a dog or a horse or a person then you should treasure it because you\'re both lucky.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm here because of a thousand tiny kindnesses that made me hesitate. Gifts sent from people I've never met. The guy who picked me up when I fell on the ice. Victor the crazy chihuahua guy calling me "Mi Amore!" People I've never met or barely know who made it clear that there is still wonder and beauty and kindness in the world.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm here because of the times I've been surprised by people I didn't know who cared. The security guard at a building across the way who apparently watched me walk home from work for months and then asked if I was ok because he was worried about me. The woman who I met once three years ago and just ran into who stopped me to chat. The guy in an office building who took one look at me and said "I know you live at X. I see you all the time!" A random girl seeing me sobbing on street stopping to tell me that everything would be ok. And these moments mean that there are still other people I don't know whose lives would be hurt if I wasn't here.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm here because of you. Because I had readers who bothered to read about my ridiculous shenanigans and cared enough about me to say even if you stop blogging, don't stop writing. Because my voice is important.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So thank you. Thank you because you may think stopping by here to read my blog isn't a big deal, but it is to me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And to anyone who is struggling with depression, \'m here to help. Please feel free to email me. Because you guys have been there for me and saved me so it seems like its only fair I do the same. So go hug someone and I'll be seeing you soon.</span>Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-18162985883734127152010-12-21T16:24:00.004-05:002011-01-02T10:57:13.618-05:00The Top 20 Horror Movies of the DecadeI just couldn't narrow it down to 10 so here's 20 movies that'll scare the socks off of you before the new decade begins.These movies are listed in no particular order.<div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix"><div><p>1.<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0445965/"> Feed</a>-This movie is actually the only movie to make me dry heave. Seriously. It's insanely sick, but in a good way.</p><p>2. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0492912/">Subject Two</a>-This movie is, quite simply, the best adaptation of Frankenstein I've ever seen. Get the DVD and watch how the movie was made as they had to schlep all their equipment up a mountain in Colorado, no easy trick.</p><p>3.<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0426459/">Feast</a>-AVOID THE SEQUELS TO THIS MOVIE. Feast is one my faves, if for no other reason Henry Rollins has his pants ripped off my a ravenous hell beast. That's always good in my book.</p><p>4. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0435625/">The Descent</a>-This is just an awesome movie.</p><p>5.<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0399934/">Zombie Honeymoon</a>-Much like an American Werewolf in London, this movie is one of the rare horror movies that manages to incorporate comedy while still remaining terrifying. Also really good rockabilly soundtrack. (The story was inspired by the death of the author/director's sister's husband.)</p><p>6.<a href="http://www.officialsaw.com/">Saw</a>-I love Saw. While the needle pit is the best trap, this is the movie that started Jigsaw on his way. You'll never hear "hello-I'd like to play a game" the same way again.</p><p>7.<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0439815/">Slither</a>-Nathan Fillon, a mayor with tourettes, and an alien who likes to eat dogs make this movie totally charming.</p><p>8. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0303816/">Cabin Fever</a>-I, quite honestly, have only watched this movie once. I can not watch it again for just one scene (you know it well) the leg shaving scene. AAAAiiiiiiii. Roth has not lived up to the reputation this movie set up for him, but this movie is enough on its own.</p><p>9. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1127180/">Drag Me to Hell</a>-Poor Allyson Lohman gets puked on more than any human being can in one movie. This Raimi at his absolute best. Hey Sam baby I do not want your puny kitten (wink).</p><p>10. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0210070/">Ginger Snaps</a>-A really great feminist twist on the werewolf story.</p><p>11. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0134847/">Pitch Black</a>-So cheesy, but I love this movie. My favorite part is the end when Vin stares down the alien by staying in its blind spot. (He also wrote Critters 2!)<br /></p><p>12. <a href="http://www.bubbahotep.com/">Bubba Ho-Tep</a>-Not really scary, but totally awesome for Bruce Campbell as an old Elvis and Ossie Davis as JFK (whose been dyed black). LET'S GET DECADENT!</p><p>13. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0403358/">Nightwatch</a>-This Russian vampire movie has amazing visuals,<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.best-horror-movies.com/images/saw-headgear.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 332px; height: 332px;" src="http://www.best-horror-movies.com/images/saw-headgear.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> and a pretty gripping story.</p><p>14. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0264323/">2001 maniacs</a>- A "sequel" to the Hershel Gordon Lewis classic, this movie keeps the campy bloodthirsty spirit of the original.</p><p>15. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0310357/"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">Willard</span></a>-This remake of a 1971 horror movie did not fare well at the box office despite the absolutely perfect casting of Crispin Glover as a social awkward man who befriends some rats. There's a scene set to music in which a cat is threatened by the rats that's absolutely flawlessly funny.<br /></p><p> 16. <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><a href="http://www.cloverfieldmovie.com/">Cloverfield-</a></span>This tribute to Godzilla set in NYC earned my undying love because the trailers offered very little insight into what was destroying NYC. In fact, the only clear shot of "the monster" is in the last 5 minutes of the movie. I do have a problem with a scene in the subway because no NYer in his/her right mind would turn and see WHAT THE FLOOD OF RATS WAS FLEEING FROM.<br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span></p><p>17.<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0760187/">The Tripper</a>-More bizarro fun, in this slasher the serial killer wears a Ronald Reagen mask while hacking up hippies at a tribute to Woodstock run by (wait for it) Paul Rubens!</p><p>18.<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0463854/">28 Weeks Later</a>-Robert Carlyle gives good zombie, and I love the end!<br /></p><p>19.<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0464141/">The Orphanage</a>-Man, I never expected to cry watching a horror movie, but this movie is both horrific and touching. Beautifully shot.</p><p>20.<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1179904/">Paranormal Activity</a>-I gotta be honest this movie plugged DIRECTLY into a fear I had growing up. When I was 10 I was terrified of demonic possession, and I barely made it through this low budget but very effective thrillfest.</p></div></div>Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3858510.post-13825503986212985742010-08-22T16:18:00.002-04:002010-08-22T16:48:12.367-04:00Threshold of Revelations: End of DaysNow that the end of Asshat's life was nearing, he was dealing more and more with his own death and the afterlife. I do not mean that on a philosophical level. I mean the actual details of what was to happen after his death. Who was to inherit what? What was to be done with his remains? Where was the memorial to be held?<br /><br />During these days in the house there was lots of idle talk about these things. Magpie was particularly excited to discuss what she planned to sing at the memorial ceremonies. It was sickening, like watching a vulture circle with ever increasing pleasure eyeing an animal as it weakens, but struggles on. But it was Magpie who shared that Asshat had always wanted to be buried on the grounds of the farm.<br /><br />The "farm" was actually a palatial, but unfinished house. Asshat had built it himself and while I thought some of the design features were....unfortunate and odd, they were definitely his. It was to have been his magnum opus. Still, his house was unfinished. On the top floor, there was one room that was barely rudimentary, and the basement had a completely non-functional bathroom. Other parts of the house, as I looked at it in the sun, desperately needed maitenance. Eaves were sagging, wood was rotting, paint was chipped an entirely faded. I thought worse than his premature death was that all of his efforts had come to this. The house, as I examined it on this bright summer day, looked absolutely pathetic. He wouldn't even have the time to build the chapel where he wanted to be buried on the property. There wasn't even time for him to fulfill his dying wish.<br /><br />I sat on the porch and looked out at the horizon. Asshat had bought all the land surrounding the house so he had a completely uninterrupted view from absolutely any vantage point at the house. Man tries to control his environment, his destiny, and he comes to this. Dying in a house with apathetic relatives with even one of his enemies now more of any ally than those who should have loved him, his house unfinished, his death wish not able to realized. While Euripides once wrote, "A bad beginning makes a bad ending," I think Sophocles was more accurate when he wrote "Count no man happy until he is dead." Of course, it's very difficult to count the dead as happy under any circumstances.Bad Bunnihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11041523746463253258noreply@blogger.com0