Six Word Saturday

You are so full of shit!

I was afforded a break from the internet yesterday - well, I TOOK a break from the socially bullshittery of the internet yesterday because my blogs got hacked - yet again - and I had to do a little maintenance. 

Anyway, that's neither here nor there (but do check out the new look at Rabbity Things™ when you get a minute).  I have a Twitter notifier that is always on when I am online.  Little window pops up with the latest from my followers twat stream.  Have you even just taken time out - not participated - and watch/read/observed the antics of some of these people.  One of them I finally got annoyed with and just unfollowed.  We'll call her Woela (as in Woe is Me! Alas!).  She was workin' my tittay right out the front door - and back in the window.  Everything was a bitch, moan, or complain.  Damn Gurrrl.  Shut the fuck up.  Give that poor chair a break and unass it from your behemoth backside, step away from the computer, and participate in your own life.  Do something about it other than boo-fuckin-hooing to people who really don't give two squirts of flung monkey shit in the first place.  If you're this much fun IRL, no wonder your life is a big ball of fumunda cheese suckage.  Let me crack open a can of worms.  Munch down, li'l mama.

But she's gone - no longer exists as far as I am concerned.  Enough about her...

Moving on...

The one that really gets me gigglin' is the Queen [of] B[S].  You know the type.  Slagging around all over the place - Twitter, Facebook, Blogger - and heavens knows where else - just annoying the Taco Bell right out of your asshole.  She has something to say about everything.  She knows more than anyone.  And she replies and LOLs like she's got some form of fucked up virtual tourettes.  You know the type.  You might not be feeling well and will be treated to a tweet about how her uterus fell out.  Your kids achieves something nice at school and hers was just chosen by Ghandi, The Pope, and mother fucking Big Bird as the Ambassador of Goodwill and Horseshit for the Freaky Mom's Space Program.  She really could be her own Jeopardy category on Fuckeduppery and Nonsense.  What kills me about our dear friend The Queen is that she talks so much shit, she can't keep up with herself.  If you go back and read her twat stream (or blog) it's beyond obvious that it's nothing more than her cooter flappin' to get attention.   "Look at me!  Look at me!  I'm cool like you!!!"  Spitwad to the eye and bubblegum in your hair, heiffer! She contradicts herself usually within the course of a day.  I was ROLLING yesterday reading past posts and twats.  She kills me.  She shan't be deleted or unfollowed as it's just too damned entertaining.  And I am TERRIBLE, because I bait her.  I just make shit up for her to respond to with her plethora of wit and wisdom.  And she never lets me down...

But there's my 6WS for today.  I won't be linking it up, I don't think, because I don't exactly fit into the aesthetic of things over there with this one today.  But you that matter will see it anyway.  Stay tuned for my Day 6 of my 30 Day project.

p.s.  Don't ask who either of the above mentioned are.  I am not saying.  Don't want to hurt any specific feelings anymore than I may have already done.  And besides, what if it's you????

A Month of Me: Day 5 (I am the Dog...)

...to Life's horse.

Today, I stabbed Warm & Fuzzy in the face. And laughed.

“I wanted to write about the moment when your addictions no longer hide the truth from you. When your whole life breaks down. That's the moment when you have to somehow choose what your life is going to be about.”

"I want out of the labels. I don't want my whole life crammed into a single word. A story. I want to find something else unknowable... Some place to be that's not on the map. A real adventure...

A sphinx. A mystery. A blank. Unknown. Undefined."


“More and more, it feels like I'm doing a really bad impersonation of myself.”

“If I can't be beautiful, I want to be invisible.”

~ Chuck Palahniuk

A Month of Me: Day 4 (Null & Void)

I got nothing today, so I am making this technically count for Day Four.

I'm hurting.  I'm cranky.  I just don't give a fuck and I have to walk to the post office and supermarket and I would rather just stab someone in the left tit with a lighter fried Slim Jim until they quit twitching.

No dancing today.

To all my Rabbiteers...

[Note:  This was intended to have been published days ago.  Don't know why it didn't.  I just now found it in my drafts.  Who knows...]

I think I have welcomed all the new followers personally, but if I haven't forgive me.  The count almost doubled within a week and I am now not sure who are actually bloggery type folks and who are just skating in for the sake of following from that horrendous Follow Friday thing I made the mistake of doing.  

So, if I have not yet said hello, gimme a shout.  I don't bite (very hard - and if I do happen to, I have had all my shots.  No rabid rabbit here.).  I'm thrilled to have all of you - everyone both new and old -  as a part of my blogging experience.  I have learned so much and grown in ways one would expect from such a medium.

So welcome - and thank you - to everyone who engages with me here at Redhead Dancing™!

A Month of Me: Day 3 (A pain in the ass - and everywhere else.)

I am so not up to this today.  I am not up for much of anything, but I am at least forcing this because I said I would.  I didn't get any sleep at all the night before (Sunday)because about the time my body wound down from being zinged up over the game, K's alarm started going off.  For three fucking hours.  So I just gave up on the prospect of sleep until she went to work - which, of course, was then daylight - and again, I couldn't sleep.  I finally fell asleep about 7:30 last night...  But nights/days like that ALWAYS fuck with my body for days afterwards.  So does, I think, sleeping on a crappy ass cheap couch for the last three months.  On a good day, I hurt.  On a day with no sleep, I feel like someone has held me down and smashed on every inch of my body with a sledge hammer - and then did it again.

"I'm a Radiant Asshole and I'm Happy!"

This is in honour of the ever amazing Lady J at Pen to Pages.  She, like I, had a bit of a rough day yesterday with the every elusive little bitch called Happiness and is a Spoken Word fan like myself - so I thought I would post this for any who may need a little pick me up.  The artist in the video is the fucking fabulous poet and author, Maggie Estep.  She put out a few albums back in the '90s - No More Mister Nice Girl ("I'm not a normal girl.  I'm an angry, sweaty girl.  So BITE ME!") and Love is a Dog from Hell ("I'm an emotional idiot, so get away from me - I mean, come here.") - but her magic is really in the words.  She is also one hell of an author.  If you don't know Maggie - seek her out.  I know if you are a fan of this blog, you will fall in love (with her).  The video is only a minute and a half long.  Take the time.  Trust.

Okay. One more.  As charming as y'all seem to think I am, THIS is what it's REALLY like living with me.  Nail.  Head.  Bingo!

Black & Gold to the Superbowl!

A Month of Me: Day 2 (Happiness is... And Cupcakes for You)

I've been itchin' all day to do day two - which is a good sign.  But now I am just so exhausted.  Not because it's 2 a.m. - but because the Saints played today and I have been worked up over this for a week.  And the game was just INtense.  And - WHO DAT! - we are now going to our first ever Superbowl and I couldn't be happier.  I cried when we won.  I am so proud.  I am just overcome with unmitigated euphoria for this win.  And no, it's not "just a game."  It's the love of all things that make our city great, it a banding together of a community, it's a standing together - arm in arm and revel in the passion that it New Orleans.  It's hard to explain and put into words if you've never been there...  If you have never experienced it.  There is no other place on the planet like the Big Easy.  I think Sean Payton said it well with this:

On the significance to this organization: "It's hard (to explain). Four years ago, there were holes in this roof. The fans in this city and this region deserve it. Like I said before, I'm just proud to be a part of it, to be part of something that is so special for this city and well deserved."

Proud is the perfect word.  I take nothing away from the Vikings.  They played a hell of a game, but this was ours to win.  We needed it.  We deserved it.  And we earned it.  Can't wait 'til we win the Superbowl in a coupla' weeks.  GEAUX SAINTS.

Now, for those of you that I have not yet run off...

Today I also feel validated.  Saturday I gave up on approval.  Sunday I began this 30 day journey.  And today, I am awarded for just being myself.  Now if that aint just the way of it, I don't know what it.  It feels good.  And like the Saints may be just a game, this may be just a silly blog award...  But it couldn't have come with better timing if you paid it in cupcakes.  Heather over at Welch Happenings has bestowed me with the Happy 101 award.  Sayeth Heather:

Rabbit, he is truly random, you never know what he will come up with to post. 

How punk rock is that?

I freakin' love it. The rules of the game are as such:

A. List 10 things that make you happy.
B. Try to do at least one of them today.
C. Tag 10 bloggers that brighten your day. (Tag!! You're it!)
D. For those 10 bloggers who get the award, (should you choose to participate) you then link back to my blog and create your own "makes you happy" list.

So I thought this would be a good place for my ten and ten.

A Month of Me: Day 1

This is a project I am going to attempt do really just to see what happens.  I have been having such a difficult time not only finding my voice here on the blog - but my place in my world IRL as well.  This project was inspired by Kylee Lane's "Working on my first 60 days of mental exploration" who was inspired by Stacy's "500 Days of Stacy."  I've decided to do a mere thiry first because 500 is far too daunting and I know me well enough to know that I don't think I would actually make it through a year plus, and I figure a month is a good gauge to see where it goes and how beneficial it will be.

I have been bound and fucking determined that 2010 is going to be a better year.  But, if I am to be honest, it doesn't feel a whole hell of a lot better than the last ten thus far.  We're living in a hotel.  I am still unemployed.  We're barely scraping by at best.  All of my friend have run - or been run - off.  I am barely speaking with any of my family anymore.  It's not even walking through life on eggshells anymore.  It's more like a mine field of dog shit.  K. is planning on going to New Mexico to pick up the truck her parents have allegedly promised her and I just have this gut feeling she won't be coming back.  I may just be being paranoid or what have you (abandonment issues, perhaps?), but it's just this nagging instinct that I can't shake.  And it's stressing me the fuck out.  Big time.  Which maybe that is what needs to happen.  I dunno.  But it does not help my blood pressure one bit.  I feel so jangled and like I am coming completely to pieces.

Friday Follow and the Fart Smell

I think I missed the point of the whole Friday Follow thing here on Blogger.  I thought it would be a great resource to perhaps find other bloggers of like mind and interest.  I did not, however, realize it is nothing more than a gathering and nesting of followers for the sake of having followers without regard to content or context.  Kinda like the Attack of the Spam Bots on Twitter.

I have deleted more comments that have nothing to do with anything related to my posts in the last 48 hours than I have in my entire history of blogging.  I don't know what the fuck "Hi. I like the colour salmon and the smell of toe.  I am a Friday Follower."  has in tangerine tranny hell to do with a post on rabid unicorns buttfucking leprechans in the forrest whilst singing "I Henry the 8th I am on my 99th Bottle of Beer on the Wall."  UGH.

It's kinda like when you're too lazy to change your brat's diaper and the Pamper gets droopy and little poops fall out leaving a Hansel and Gretel trail of shit down the hall so you just pick them up, stuff them back in, duct tape the diaper to the baby and proudly proclaim, "Yep! That's my kid!"  I aint your kid, dude.  Chill the fuck out.

Yeah, it's kinda like that, I think.

Smells that bad, too.

Won't be doing THAT again.  I don't need the pamper-ing.

My Week in a World of Words

Welcome to "My Week in a World of Words."

Go to Wordle.net to create your own.  If you'd like to participate, grab the button and have at it.  Depending on how well it takes off, I can begin putting a link list in each week, but for now, leave a comment as a shout out to let people know how to find you and share your words this week.

Here's mine:

Six Words Saturday

Describe your life (or something) in a phrase using just six words. For more information, try clicking here. Feel free to explain or not explain. Add an image, a video, a song, nothing.

Mine for this week are:

I've given up on your approval.

I can't seem to win, so I plan to stop trying.  I can't seem to please anyone.  This one likes that.  That one dislikes this.  It all a big circular mind fuck of cat and mouse and cheese and chokin' on bones and a dirty ass litterbox.  So piss on it.  I'll do my own thing and if someone cares to engage - fucking fabulous - come join the party.  Otherwise, just stand out there in the rain ringin' the damned doorbell 'til your Lee Press-Ons pop off and hit you in the left eye.  Aint answerin' the do' no mo'!

To quote a queen (or two):

Vida Boheme: Your approval is not needed.

Noxeema Jackson: Approval neither desired nor required.

Something it would behoove us all to remember more often than we do...

Jay Brannan, "Man in the Mirror"

Hello, Bellvue? Yes... Um... There's a crazy man in the Post Office. Can you send the van?

Let me preface this post by saying that I am NOT crazy.  Well...  I am not mentally deficient.  Well...  I function to the best of my abilities in the greater scheme of things.  Marching.  Beating.  Own drum.  Such and so...

Suffice it to say that I spend about 90% of my time with absolutely no human contact.  So I live in my own world, with my own self-made entertainment.  There is not, however, a volume control on said amusement.  Nor is there a whole lot of awareness about the world around me.  It would not be entirely uncommon to see the rabbit in full regalia - complete with cane - break out into an awkward Macarena in the middle of the produce department whilst perusing kumquats because "Calle Ocho" came on the overspeakers.  It happens.  Usually much to the chagrin of whomever is shopping with me.  I tend to cause people to move away from me on the bus because I am sitting there singing (to myself and doing the dance) "Sitting on the Toilet."  Now Flush!!!  I really don't think about it.  It's going on in my world, and I am oblivious to the real world around me.  It's like Inappropriate Disney Tourette Syndrome with a Soundtrack or something.  Sometimes you just gotta dance and sing.

The neighbors are no longer unaccustomed to hearing wailing renditions/parodies of things such as "Forever Flung" (to the tune of "Forever Young" with FEELING):

Patience and Halos

I have decided that people like Cate and C.Beth must have the patience of Job and blinged-out halos for the effort they put forth in getting people to participate with their blog projects.  I have neither.  To say my patience is limited is the understatement of the year and the closest thing I have to a halo is a cockring.  I get so frustrated trying to get people to jump on the bandwagon to no avail.  I used to have a Ning community that no matter what I did, nothing happened and it ended up dying a horrible death in the night with its flesh erupting in boils.  AKA: I gave up and shut the shit down.  I am about at that point here in the Land of Blogbelieve in trying to get folks to interact, engage and participate. 

Perhaps this is not my calling...

I think I will just ramble and say fuck a lot.  I'm good at that.

Tuesday Tunes (And yes, I know it's Thursday... Thank You.)

Slow on the intake as always, I found this on the fabulicious blog of Penny Lane. And for the record, she was late too, so...  But it's fun and I haven't anything actually worthwhile to do while I wait for the mailman so I thought I would give it a ya-ya.

What tv show uses the best music?
I really like the music from Nip/Tuck if I can bear to watch the show anymore.  Poor thing jumped shark so bad even the shark said "What the fuck?"  But the music on there is usually pretty outstanding.  Love the theme song "Make Me Beautiful" by Engine Room.  I once did a mashup Drag show number of "Make Me Beautiful" and Manson's "Beautiful People" with my head in bandages and half my face gone.  The audience was a little verklempt on that one.  And who could not love Jennifer Coolidge's "Yo Stink, Bitch" ? Classic.

So many musicians try their hand at acting, who do you think is the best at it?
I would have to go with David Bowie on this one.  Anyone that can go from The Hunger to Labyrinth to Twin Peaks and then turn around and play Tesla is tops in my book.  Of course, I could just be biased because I secretly hope he will leave his wife, kidnap me, carry me off to Goblin City, and force me to do things to him that would frighten the fish.

What's your favorite music related TV show?
Are there any good ones?  I am not a big fan of Screaming Teens American Idol.  I cringe every time Andrew Lloyd Webber starts searching for a new ho.  The Singing Bee brings horny cats to my window - kinda like Kelis and her milkshake.  That acapella one here a minute ago wasn't bad...  If it's music related I usually will go with something like Austin City Limits or Great Performances.  Yes, PBS.  I'm geeky like that.

And now you know.

More Random Art-ery

Few more photos I found of stuff that I have done.

"Deny Me and Be Doomed!"

"It's all the same fucking day, man..."

Movin' on Up...

I got my first official cease-and-desist letter today and had to remove a post from my gossip blog, Rabbity Things™!  How exciting!  I feel like I have arrived!!!  It seems a certain Greasey has-been actor took a little (well, a rather serious, actually) tumble and busted his ass up pretty good - broken hip and arm, fractured neck, hemorrage in his noggin.

We've all seen this actor and his struggles with addictions on a certain music channel reality show about the ins and outs of rehab.  It was there we 'met' his psycho-fuck wad of cocksnot of a girlfriend.  Total hysterical, whack job, shit stirring enabler.  Hot mess in the I-just-stepped-in-dog-shit kind of way.

Well, ANYhoo, on Rabbity Things™ I was merely accusing speculating that perhaps said and aforementioned Nutbag went all Baby Jane apeshit and aided in the grease monkey's fall...  Seems certain individuals were none too keen of my assessment...  And I couldn't be happier!  Not for his injuries, of course, bless his heart.  The dude has been through enough.  But thrilled that I got in trouble for running my mouth!!!

(Wonder if I would get in more trouble if I publish the actual letter???)

"You wouldn't be able to do these awful things to me if I weren't still in this chair."

"But you are, Blanche!!! You ARE in that chair!"

Made my day...

Been havin' a crappy day today.  Was feeling poorly over the weekend - just generally stressed out - and in the aftermath of being ill...

And my friend's four year old daughter, Lil Bit calls me (this is not unusual - I get several calls a week).  The conversation today went something like this:

Lil Bit:  BUNNY!!!

Me:  Hey darlin' what are you —

Lil Bit:  We saw the stinky truck!!!

Me:  The stinky truck???  You mean the trash truck?

[pause]

Lil Bit:  No.....

[I think I confused her.]

Me:  Well what did the stinky truck look like?

Lil Bit:  Truck.  It said "you smell."

Me:  [completely lost at this point but going with it]  "You smell" huh?  Where did you see the stinky truck?

[I'm wondering where on EARTH this is going.]

Lil Bit:  Yeah. [clunk] Mooooommmmm —

[LB is apparently done with me.  Lil Mama gets on the phone.]

Lil Mama:  Did you get all that?

Me:  I got it but I don't get it.  What the hell's a stinky truck?

Lil Mama:  "U.S. Mail."  She's been hangin' around you too much.

Totally made my day.  Gotta love it.  (And trust me, "precocious" doesn't even begin to cover it!)

Go away!

The little shit is still here...

And it's beginning to make me a very unfunny bunny.

RabbityThings.Com

My Week in a World of Words

I've seen this idea on several other places in The Land of Blogbelieve, but since I don't really fit in to the aesthetic of most of those blogs and I say 'fuck' to much, I decided to implement my own version.  Welcome to "My Week in a World of Words" wordle.  Go to Wordle.net to create your own.  If you'd like to participate, grab the button and have at it.  Depending on how well it takes off, I can begin putting a link list in each week, but for now, leave a comment as a shout out to let people know how to find you and share your words this week.

Here's mine:

Six Words Saturday

Little Lady, you will be missed.

[More here]

Dear So & So...

Dear Creative Block,

You can suck it.

Fuck you.

Show me your privates!!!

It’s Delurker Day!

Which means if that's you lurking over there on this blog — Yes, you!  I see you over there in the corner!  Get your hands out of your britches! — take a minute to leave a comment and say 'Hi!' or "Phrwap!" or whatever every else tickles your dangley bits.  (And as always, all my regular Rabbiteers are always more than welcome to run a mouth or two while you're here!!!)

Show it and Shake it!