Redhead Dancing™ [the archives]

Six Words Saturday

2010-04-03T10:22:00.000-05:00

I think we've seen the end.

To Sing with the Fat Lady

2010-04-01T13:57:00.001-05:00

The silver Swan, who living had no Note,

when Death approached, unlocked her silent throat.

Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,

thus sang her first and last, and sang no more:

"Farewell, all joys! O Death, come close mine eyes!

"More Geese than Swans now live, more Fools than Wise."

And a hush falls over the crowd...

2010-03-31T10:34:00.002-05:00

"A wise old owl sat on an oak;

The more he saw the less he spoke;

The less he spoke the more he heard;

Why aren't we like that wise old bird?"

New blog post at "Screaming at the Make-Believe"

2010-03-29T02:34:00.001-05:00

"How did you survive that?"

"Is your punch line just a joke..?"

2010-03-28T18:34:00.001-05:00

A week or so ago, someone asked me when my "Mother" was due. And was she having twins..? I kind of just laughed it off at first because - in regard to the person in question - She is neither my mother (she's less than ten years older than me) nor is She pregnant. However, it's an honest - and easy - mistake to make. I've seen actual pregnant women who were smaller in size, and lately, time has definitely marched on (and on) across Her face. So I just corrected them, helped them pick their jaw up off the floor, and went about it.

But it has haunted me every since.

It makes me wonder how much of what we think we are projecting about ourselves is actually what is being perceived by the world at large. Do we care? Should we care? I can't fathom being that obese - being aware of it - and yet continuing to constantly shovel food into my face. It's beyond me. Not to mention revolting to watch.

I am, however, the polar opposite. I am, at this point, so dangerously underweight that it is bordering on downright scary. There is not always a lot of food here, and when there is I usually feel like the runt of the litter fighting for scraps. Often times if I don't get to it first and either eat it all, hide it or hoard it, I don't get a whole heck of a lot. I also have a hard time watching Her eat. It's mental, I know... But it grosses me out and completely annihilates what little appetite I usually do have. So I just don't bother. Thusly: frighteningly underweight. I could gain about 50 pounds and still be below where I should be. My teeth are horrible - beyond repair. Physically, I don't get around too well. And we won't even go into what my hair has become. So it really makes me consider: I know what I see when I look at Her. What do people see when they look upon the skeletal six-foot tall man wobbling down the side of the road? Do they see a drug addict? Do they see a man dying with each step? Each shuffle that much closer to death? Or do they see me?

I used to be the life of the party. I used to light up a room. Sure, I was bawdy and loud and obnoxious as all matters of bedazzled hell - but I was alive. And I brought that life - and that love of life - with me where ever I went. The biggest mistake of my life - beyond the drugs - beyond Him - beyond the alcoholism - was moving to New Mexico a few years back. How was I to know then that it would kill me? It broke me. It has destroyed me and all that I was. It sucked the life force right out of me like an over zealous Shop Vac and hasn't stopped yet. I have all but withered away.

I have lost my muchness.

I hope against hope - even though there's not much there - that this move this summer actually happens and I can get Life back... Though I admit I have my doubts. Hard to believe when the faith is long gone. But what I do have carries me on as best it can. It's, at least, something to look forward to... Something to dream about - even if deep down I don't truly believe it will happen. I just want to live again. I just want to Be. I just want to be alive. Again.

So I have to wonder... What do people see? Is all this manifested in my appearance? Or have all those years of layers and spackle and bullshit held tight my carefully constructed facade? Are people buying it?

What do you see? Or better yet, what do you sell?

"Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes..."

2010-03-27T17:46:00.000-05:00

Trivial Trivia for the Twisted

2010-03-27T16:33:00.004-05:00

This week went down on a donkey like a Mexican whore workin' for Pesos, so I don't feel like doing my "This Week..." this week. Instead you get a plethora of useless information. (Stolen from Gina stolen from Vencora.)

1. Never in my life have I been: an Oompa Loompa, professionally.

2. The one person who can drive me nuts is: damn near everyone.

3. High school: In school, I was usually high.

4. When I’m nervous: I laugh inappropriately.

5. The last song I listened to was: "You Belong to Me" by Taylor Swift.

6. If I were to get married right now my best man/maid of honor: would be looking at me like I had lost my God damned mind. But at least my gown is cute.

7. My hair is: a freak of nature.

8. When I was 5: I was a boy.

9. Last Christmas: I gave you my heart. But the very next day, you gave it away.

10. I should be..: Shouldn't we all?

11. When I look down I see: all that lies below me.

12. The happiest recent event was: winning a new fountain pen and a squirt load of ink for it.

13. If I were a character on 'Friends' I would be: in jail for stabbing Ross and Rachel in the face with a butter knife.

14. By this time next year: I will have ceased to exist as everyone now knows me.

15. My current gripe is: dumbfuckery - in general.

16. I have a hard time understanding: ~~90% of Americans~~ people who don't speak English.

17. There’s this girl I know that: smells like a dude. A big dude. That doesn't wash his balls.

18. If I won an award, the first person I would tell would be: the crazy man on the bus.

19. Take my advice: Wear sunscreen.

20. The thing I want to buy: isn't for sale.

21. If you visited the place I was born: you might be ill.

22. I plan to visit: the other side of the Looking Glass.

23. If you spent the night at my house: I would know you'd lost your damned mind.

24. I’d stop my wedding if: I was getting married.

25. The world could do without: giant bubbles of poo in Indiana.

26. I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: change a diaper. Just sit in it, kid.

27. Most recent thing I’ve bought myself: glasses that make me look like Buddy Holly buttfucked an owl and barfed up a male version of Trelawny.

28. Most recent thing someone else bought me: chocolate.

29. My favorite blonde is: myself. Like... OMG. Duh.

30. My favorite brunette is: now blonde.

31. My favorite red head is: learning to dance again.

32. My middle name is: between my first name and last name.

33. In the morning I: could be considered homicidal.

34. The animals I would like to see flying besides birds are: people. Fly away.

35. Once, at a bar: - and then twice. And probably a third time.

36. Last night I was: drew a cartoon of my friend Penny Lane rockin' out on the guitar.

37. There’s this guy I know who: smells better than this girl I know. He washes his nuts.

38. If I was an animal I’d be: a little less human.

39. A better name for me would be: Whutdefuk.

40. Tomorrow I am: one day closer to home.

41. Tonight I am: not going to kick any old women or steal their walkers.

42. My birthday is: annual.

Six Words Saturday

2010-03-27T16:02:00.001-05:00

Someone asked me this week: "How do you forgive that? How did you survive that?"

So today's six words are:

Didn't know I had a choice...

What are your six words this week? Head over to Cate's place to participate.

Here... Take my words.

2010-03-26T08:32:00.001-05:00

You'll be seeing a marked decrease in posts here at Redhead Dancing - and online in general - in the weeks and months to come.

Those of you that I speak with on a regular basis - either via the blog or email, please send me your mailing address so that I might write you and keep in touch.

I would hate to lose contact with many, many of you. You can send it either via the contact page link at the top of the page or email it to me here.

Surfacing

2010-03-24T12:36:00.000-05:00

Hey y'all.

Thanks for all the emails and messages. I've been super sick (yes, again), but am still around. Will answer emails and such soon - just don't have it in me to get to everyone just now.

- R.

Six Words Saturday

2010-03-20T12:53:00.000-05:00

I'm ready for things to improve.

Wanna play? Head over to Cate's place.

This Week...

2010-03-19T14:29:00.001-05:00

This week I have had a headache for seven days straight. I can't make it stop. It won't go away. I really just want to lay down and die at this point.
This week Boho closed it's doors.
This week I just don't have it in me.
This week I can't seem to quit crying.
This week, try as I might, I am having a hard time finding the positive.
This week is one week closer to going home.

Quote of the Day

2010-03-18T18:19:00.000-05:00

"To encapsulate the notion of Mardi Gras as nothing more than a big drunk is to take the simple and stupid way out, and I, for one, am getting tired of staying stuck on simple and stupid.

Mardi Gras is not a parade. Mardi Gras is not girls flashing on French Quarter balconies. Mardi Gras is not an alcoholic binge.

Mardi Gras is bars and restaurants changing out all the CD's in their jukeboxes to Professor Longhair and the Neville Brothers, and it is annual front-porch crawfish boils hours before the parades so your stomach and attitude reach a state of grace, and it is returning to the same street corner, year after year, and standing next to the same people, year after year--people whose names you may or may not even know but you've watched their kids grow up in this public tableau and when they're not there, you wonder: Where are those guys this year?

It is dressing your dog in a stupid costume and cheering when the marching bands go crazy and clapping and saluting the military bands when they crisply snap to.

Now that part, more than ever.

It's mad piano professors converging on our city from all over the world and banging the 88's until dawn and laughing at the hairy-shouldered men in dresses too tight and stalking the Indians under Claiborne overpass and thrilling the years you find them and lamenting the years you don't and promising yourself you will next year.

It's wearing frightful color combination in public and rolling your eyes at the guy in your office who--like clockwork, year after year--denies that he got the baby in the king cake and now someone else has to pony up the ten bucks for the next one.

Mardi Gras is the love of life. It is the harmonic convergence of our food, our music, our creativity, our eccentricity, our neighborhoods, and our joy of living. All at once."

-Chris Rose, Times Picayune

If you don't know Chris Rose, seek him out. He is by far one of the best journalists ever. (Even if I am a little biased.)

TRANSform Me

2010-03-17T15:29:00.001-05:00

Who knew VH1 would end up being one of the more progressive channels out there? I'd been seeing commercials for their new make-over show Transform Me - but really didn't give it much thought. I mean, really who needs to see yet another Lemony Snickety Unfortunate Event get a little less ugly than they were 30 minutes ago. Yawn. But, last night it was coming on after RuPaul's Drag Race and I didn't know where the remote was, so...

And I was actually rather impressed. The make-over gurus on this one are trannies. I think it's quite brilliant. Who better to tell the fat girl that got hit in the face with the dodge ball how to get fierce than the gay boy who got hit in the face with the dodge ball and got fierce. It's a cool concept. Last night's show wasn't earth shattering but they took the formerly fat but still ugly girl who was going out for a "girl's night" with her equally fat and/or ugly friends and made her into something a little less publicly frightening. At least children were not running and screaming in abject terror anymore...

But I like the concept. Having been a drag queen for a great many years I know the effort involved - a concept that a LOT of women take for granted. And who better than to relate to someone going through a life changing transformation than a tranny? Kudos to the legendary Laverne Cox (show's creator and main tran) for cooking this one up.

Full episode after the cut - lemme know what you think.

VH1 TV Shows | Music Videos | Celebrity Photos | News & Gossip

Come to my Window

2010-03-17T09:30:00.000-05:00

Tracie over at Stir-Fry Awesomeness has given me a great idea for a new (series of) post(s) with her latest today. I have lived in some places - lemme tell you. From the last stop on the 6 in the Bronx, to a closet sized flat in The Village... From the Faubourg Marigny (just this side of the 9th Ward) in New Orleans to the ghettos of Stockton, California. Crack hotels. Laundry Mats. All the way to Speegleville, Texas. (Yee haw!) And back... The list goes on...

Gurrls (and that one dude over there with his hand down his pants - yeah, I know I'm cute, but stop that - it's creepy) I have seen some SHIT. Literally. Most recently at my last apartment complex I went outside to water my plants and there was a very naked crackbaby squatted down taking a dump on the sidewalk. Typical of me, my immediate and unthought out response was:

"Oh HELL no. You better pick that shit up and go take it to yo' mama."

And.

He.

Did.

Another favourite was the time I heard a big mess of ruckus outside the door and peeked out all Gladys Kravitzy to see two big ol' ghetto gurls goin' at it by the trash can. One looked straight up out the Amazon - the other a much shorter and much, much rounder version with a big ol' fall o' fake hurh - not even the good fake shit either - the fake shit you get at the supa'markit out the bargain bin. Amazoniqua then proceeded to gank Rotunda's weave up offa her head and starts to whoop her ass with her own yaki. Rotunda - trying to defend herself grabs the trashcan lid and is now using it as a shield like the Spartan 300 (or maybe that was just how much she weighed) and Amazoniqua is STILL spankin' the hell out of her OVER the top of the shield. It was a mother fuckin' riot and a half.

You can't begin to imagine the shit I have seen. Sometimes I have wondered if I really did fall through The Looking Glass and ended up in What-the-Fuck-Land.

Stay tuned. There's much, much more to come.

Anacronyms & Abbreviations in Rabbitese

2010-03-16T10:33:00.003-05:00

Granted, it's no secret that my brain does not quite work like that of everyone else. But sometimes I even have to sit back at my own whackadooery and say "WTF?" Mom blogged recently pondering the psychic abilities of her DHL delivery dude and it got me wondering what DHL stands for. (No, I still don't know. I got distracted and forgot to look it up.) Anacronyms and abbreviations and I are old friends. I get lost for hours making up words to go with said letters. License plates? Forget it. I'm done. If you are over there torturing me by making me ride in a car and yapping ninety-to-nothing and get no response - I am probably creating PSU 937 into Please Shut Up for the 937th time!!! (And drive, damn it.)

Anyway - rambling - DHL. It began as driver/delivery related. That didn't work. I am pretty sure Driving Hookers Left is NOT what that stands for. That was about the extent of driving references...

Then we had Donking Hot Latinos... Probably not.

Dumb Horny Lesbians? Dick Hard Lately???

And then, out of the blue I shouted - literally - DON'T HURT LEON!!!

No, I don't know who the fuck Leon is, either. But, apparently, The Universe thinks it is pretty important seeing as I am blurting it out at the top of my lungs to absolutely no one. It's a good thing I don't have a cat - it would be hanging from the ceiling with a nervous disorder by now (or trying to kill me in my sleep, they do that you know).

So... What do YOU think DHL stands for (in Rabbitese, of course)? No looking it up. I no longer really give two shakes of turdy drawers what it actually means. What can you come up with?

And just for gits and shiggles, how many of you actually know what URL stands for???

[UPDATE: rotacoL ecruoseR mrofinU :LRU | )sserpxE ediwdlroW LHD fo srednuof( nnyL dna molblliH ,yeslaD :LHD ]

Per Request: Coloured Hoots

2010-03-15T10:43:00.002-05:00

Several of y'all have asked if I could make you a No Hoots button in different colours (which I haven't done yet, sorry!) - so I just decided to make the basics and y'all can pick and choose which suits your blog.

This Week...

2010-03-12T09:21:00.005-06:00

This week was almost more than I could bear.
This week I have not allowed myself to cry... Yet.
This week I had to say good-bye to not one - but two - amazing human beings whose lives ended far too soon.
This week I got new shoes.
This week I made a new friend who astounds me with her candor.
This week had made me reevaluate my career path.
This week has made me realize that the ugly people - like TC - really do seem to get rewarded more than the others. Nice guys DO, in fact, finish last.
This week Spring finally arrived in Texas.
This week I let Him go. For good.
This week saw Boho grow exponentially - and is showing great promise.
This week I offended a lot of people in my inability to deal with shit.
This week is one more closer to going home.
This week I need simplicity (hence the new look of the blog).

Despite it all, this week has me hopeful that next week will be better.

Are you there, Gawd?

2010-03-12T09:04:00.001-06:00

It's me! Margaret!

Hello? That bitch hung up on me!!!

Check out the new video for "Telephone" here!

I love my job.

2010-03-10T08:52:00.002-06:00

If you need me, look for the bunny in the padded room, swinging from the rafters and yodeling about Square One, hex codes and fonts. Please send Pop Tarts, Kool-Aid, Porn, and Jelly Beans. No visitors please.

Thanks.

Whooo Bitch! You betta' Beat that Mug!!!

2010-03-09T16:23:00.002-06:00

Whoa Nellie! 'Fore you go all dog slappin' crazy on your coffee cup, lemme tell ya sumthin'. "Beating your mug" does not mean assaulting yo' dishery. No, not at all. Picture an ol' South'n gal puttin' her face on. 'Member Coty Loose Powder with the big poof? Beatin' your mug if slappin' some unscary on your face.

I have a dear friend with whom I have been talkin' that has decided to become a Queen. Yes, Dazey Mayhem has spawned another one. Lawd he'p us. (You know I love you, Boo.)

Anyway, she was askin' me for tips and tricks to uncover her girl the other day and asked me to write all this shit down. Now my lazy ass will blog it, but I aint writing a how-to-be-a-ho list for this trick. So you all win. Having been a make-up artist off and on for years now, I know lotsa shit.

Though I love me some Smashbox Primer - you can get the same stuff at Woolworth's for about six bucks. It's Vagisil Anti-Chafing Gel. NO! Not cooter creme! Put that down. The stuff made for when your chub rubs together and gives you the diaper rash of an unloved baby. That stuff. Read the box. Aint got nuthin' to do with your cho-cha. Chafing gel. Trust. Your makeup will never look better. Put it on after moisturizer and before your spackle.
Speaking of spackle, Liquid Foundation is NOT lotion, dude. Chill the fuck out. The more you smear on the worse you look. Put a blob of it on the back of your hand and use a makeup sponge to stipple (blot) it on. Don't smear it on. Blotting it on you get better coverage and no streaks. Putting it on your hand warms it up a bit, too, for better application. You'll use a snotload less too - and end up with a more even complexion that looks as natural as painting ass coloured goo on your face can get.
Take all those fuckin' sponge applicator things that come with your makeup - pee on them and burn them. They are evil. Go spend the buck fitty for some brushes. You will NEVER get a decent application from those satantic sponge things. Ever.
For liquid to powder foundations, apply them with a brush. Find a rather dense, short bristled brush and blend it on with the brush. It doesn't clump up, streak and setttle in all the wrinkles between botox treatments. You'll trip over how much better it goes on - and again - covers when you are not treating your face like busted ass drywall and sloppin' it on with a trowel.
Baby Formula Orajel Gel is THE BEST goop for tweezing eyebrows. Put it on and let it sit for a minute or so before tweezing or waxing. It's awesome. Do NOT use ice. Ice shrinks everything up and it actually makes it hurt worse when you stop ripping your fur out.
What else, Preparation H is great for under eye poofiness and bags. It's not eternal - but it's great for a night out.
Eyeshadow applied with a wet brush makes the best eyeliner ever. It doesn't smudge. It doesn't bleed. It doesn't go anywhere, actually.
The biggest secret for wearing full face and not looking like a Bourbon Street Whore/Drag Queen/Hot Tranny Mess is BLEND. Blend. Blend. Again, brushes. You need brushes.
One of the best make-up lines out there is Nyx Cosmetics - the stuff is Ahhhhh-mazing. It's MAC quality at Walgreen's prices. Blows me away.
And don't waste your time with Kat Von D's makeup. The tatt concealer is nothing more than foundation and doesn't cover jack dribble. If you need that kind of coverage, go get some Dermanblend. That shit will cover up all your bad marriages and one-night stands. It's pricey, but well worth it.
Oh! And the best facial scrub ever? Take your cream cleanser (Think Ponds or Noxema, etc) and mix a bloob of it with a spoonful of sugar. The sugar is softer than most OTC scrubs but abrasive enough to remove and the dead face. Just be sure to rinse really well. Cheap and easy.

I've tons more - but I am bored with this for now. Will post more laters.

p.s. and probably the most important, Covergirl does NOT cover boy. Don't even try it.

The Latest from Rabbity Things™ Designs!

2010-03-09T12:07:00.001-06:00

Check out Jen's blog at The Brook Would Have No Music.

(Thanks, Jen - & Toni!)

My own Rabbity makeover

2010-03-07T12:37:00.002-06:00

Well, it's really more of a make-under, but I am pleased with the result none the less. Still in the middle of reorganizing the posts - there's only four up now - but about 44 in draft, so it will fill back up again soon.

Anyway - have a look at the new look... I know a lot of you have already read the published posts, but I've gained so many new followers of late that I thought I would (re)introduce the writing I can actually do when I am not ranting and raving and cussing like a drunken drag queen trucker...

Click here:

Screaming at the Make-Believe

Six Words Saturday

2010-03-05T22:28:00.005-06:00

It's been a week.

"Can someone please explain this one?"

Hypothetically speaking, of course, but would you commission, say, a wedding dress, approve the design and then once it's finished, rip out the lining and then proceed to foam at the cooch about it being defective and expect the seamstress to fix your fuck up? Really? And THEN, after all that, ask the seamstress to help you find some poor slob to marry? That's been my week. Fuckin' bride.

"Bob has bitch tits." (aka Fuck me crookedy! The bastard's done!)

2010-03-05T16:09:00.010-06:00

A word for the wise from the not very: Be really fuckin' careful what you ask for. You might get it. Last week I was wrappin' up projects and hoping for new ones, and I thought to myself, I would love something a little challenging for whatever my next project is to be. Well... The Universe, undoubtedly, heard me - and has the fucked up sense of humour of a drunken drag queen on Show Me Your Shit night. And it vomited Bob - dripping with last nights corn, bile, and misdirected fecal matter - into my lap. Thaaanks... Didn't like those britches anyway.

Now those of you that I have worked for know that I can generally turn something around - especially Blogger designs - in about 24 to 48 hours. No problems. I am on a week with this holy, fuckin' nightmare. I am so over it that I have done come back up around the other side. Suffice to say that if I would have charged what is listed in the Rabbity Things™ pricing information I would be at more than five-hundred bucks in just revisions alone - and revisions only run $15 each. Tell you anything? And that's not including the reinstalls I have had to do... I won't even tell you how many emails were involved. I received less than the cost of two blogs for this one. Fuckin' crack head insanity.

Now I am really not bitching unceremoniously. I worked in the newspaper industry for a decade. I've written obits. I've written wedding announcement. (And you've never known hair pulling hell until you have written a full-page, full-colour wedding announcement for a Waco bride, believe me.) I have built ads, and copy, and websites for dang near every print advertising business in Central Texas at one point or another... But Good Gay God in Greenwich Village Hell - I have never had a job like this... Ever. And underpaid to boot. Even with the "tip" and "asshole tax" it doesn't even equal what two jobs would have cost - much less even come close to touching all the work that has gone into dry humping this piece of shit into flight. AND he got shit for free, to boot... That boot really needs to find an ass at this point. It really has made me wonder why I came back to this field - but then on the complete and total flip side I remember all the freakin' amazing and totally Raisin Bran Crunch* bloggers I have worked with in the last few months, and it really is worth it.

Sometimes when frolicking in the meadow, you step in cow shit. And, dog suck it, this time I wasn't wearing shoes. It's all part of the territory, I guess.

He likes to faincy himself intelligent enough to go in and add and remove (and move) shit, so it keeps going haywire because he, actually and in fact, has no clue what he's doing and it blows the style sheet. But it's done. The final email (from me) indicated that I would recommend that he talk to someone who actually knows what they are doing and does not have their head so far up their own asshole that they are peering at the monitor through their belly button before altering the code. Bob had moved and placed random jackassery about the blog prior to my design - BUT, Bob's Blog was nothing more than a blank template in which he had changed the background colour. One would think that, logic prevailing, adding a style sheet would, in fact, alter the makeup of the template.... One would think. But no, assclownin' away went he and the whole thing went to Fuckupland.... And therein lies the problem.

But it is done. I am done. A week's worth of crisco'd masturbation with the fuckin' thing and only earned maybe a third of what I put into the son of a bitch. I. Am. Done. Fuckin' ridiculous doesn't begin to cover it. Bob can chew it 'til it's soft and shove it up his pee hole at this point. Go milk yourself, buddy. Remember what happened to the real Robert Paulson when he mixed up with Project Mayhem... Though that could be an improvement...

And the real rub? I get nothing out of this. I took all my logos or any reference to the design OFF. I want no part of or association with this damned thing. Because you know it's gonna end up all jacked to Jesus at some point in the future and I don't want the reflection on a business and a reputation that I have busted my ass raw without lube to create and maintain. Did I say this is bullshit, yet?

So, to surmise: be careful what you fuckin' ask for... Or at least be specific. This was NOT what I had in mind when I hoped for a challenge. My time - and my work - is more valuable than this shit.

Yeah, it's like that.

p.s. And, for the record, I never ONCE lost my cool with this jackhole. He never incurred the Wrath of Rabbit - which is saying something. No fuckmonkeys were harmed in the creation of this blog - though I think it was warranted and the judge would have dismissed the case and bought me a beer if they had. And I have the 50 emails to prove it.

*Raisin Bran Crunch = A Whole Box of Awesome

New from Rabbity Things™ Designs!

2010-03-05T09:58:00.000-06:00

Click here to visit Toni's blog!

I feel like Oscar today...

2010-03-04T14:34:00.001-06:00

No, not this one, you turd...

THIS one...

I think if anyone else asks anything else of me today, this may be one of the rare instances in my life where I would simply say "no." Alert the media.

I am just give the fuck out.

Yeah... It's like that.

2010-03-03T17:28:00.002-06:00

And an inspirational ditty after the jump for your listening
(but not your chilren's) pleasure!

Y'alls need to...

2010-03-03T12:44:00.000-06:00

...fix your e-mails on your profile so I can personally reply to your comments! Dadgummit!

A bunny in your box is a good thing!

But Dear Mister Wise Rabbit the Super Geek, how do we do that?

Well, lemme tell ya...

Go to your Dashboard. Click on Edit Profile. Then under Privacy - three bloops down - click on that little box next to Show My Email Address. Now peek over yonder to the left, you will see something like this: Currently set to theblogs@rabbitythings.com. This is where, when you comment, people can email you their personal replies rather than replying in the original comment section.

But Dear Mister Wise Rabbit the Super Geek, I don't want my REAL email showing to every Tom, Dick, and Suzy!!! They might crawl through the webbernets and sit inside my monitor, sucking on jelly beans and thinking untoward and lascivious thoughts while watching me from inside there while I peruse Etsy for handmade Granny Panties and listen to Liberace cover-tunes as performed by limbless children...

Not to worry Rabbiteers! A solution is at hand.

Scroll down just a little titch to the Identity section. See just below User Name there's a box for Email Address. You can put whatever creams your Twinkie in there. You can create a new email address just for your blog comments to the licks of BubbaGumpHumpsIt@SquishyShrimp.com (not a real email) if you want to. It matters not! What matters is you have a email there (that you can check, of course) to receive your comment replies.

Then once you have done all that, slide on down to the bottom of the page like Smiley Virus on a stripper pole and slap that Save Profile button!

Voila! (Or "Walla" as Mom says!) You gotcha yourself some faincy-panted high-falutin' place for the folks to holler atcha at!

You're welcome,

I'll See You Again, Someday

2010-03-03T11:01:00.000-06:00

Today would have been my sister's 32 birthday. Most times, it doesn't bother me. I remember. I reflect. But today, looking back over the last 24 (I think) years and recalling all that has happened in the years since her death - and all that is unfolding - my heart hurts. She would have been gaga over The Twins - and they over her. I can so see her and Gabey being inseparable. We (my siblings and I) are all grown and adults now with our own lives - and she is frozen in a moment in time so, so long ago. I guess it's getting to me more this year because my own life is in such a state of flux and transition that I have to pause to wonder where her own life would have carried her. Who she'd be today... It's almost weird to miss someone you've not seen in over twenty years, and how that longing can bring a tear to your eye even after all this time... So strange to think of the child I was then, who I became... And who I am now.

"It ain't fair you died too young
Like a story that had just begun
But death tore the pages all away
God knows how I miss you
All the hell that I've been through
Just knowing, no one could take your place
Sometimes I wonder, who you'd be today"

- Kenny Chesney, Who You'd Be Today

[Video after the jump.]

Insanity Loves Company

2010-03-03T00:57:00.001-06:00

There are a lot of 'awards' going around at the moment with all these provisos and rules and you gottas. Now while I love getting awards I ~~rarely~~ never do what I am supposed to with them - other than say thank you, of course. So this little booger-pickin' poo-flinger of an award is nothing more than just that - a thank you to those of you who have stuck around and commented and kept in touch through all my ranting and raving and absences and slingings of shit. I do appreciate you. So just take it and do what you will with it. It need not a list of how many toddlers your tromped in the last 42 days or how much yogurts you smeared across your naked body or which Sesame Street Muppet you'd like to bump of the ugly. It's just spankya for being so Raisin Bran Crunch.

And, without further ado - and postively no doo-doo - the award goes to (in no particular order other than the random haphazardery that is my addled mind):

Tracie at Stir-Fry Awesomeness | Mystz at Blah Blah Blog... | B-Dub at Enjoy the Ride | Vencora at coffee with a hint of self delusion | Georgina at Olive Me | Heather at Welch Happenings | Toni at Can I Just Say... | Gayle at Gramme's Blog | Jean at Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World | Deb at Menopausal New Mom | Penny at Penny Lane | Lady J at Pen to Pages | and last, but most certainly not least, Raven of Raven of the Green Mountains

Thank you so much for all the feedback and consistent comments and just being a part of my blog. It wouldn't be the same without y'all hangin' around and flinging my shit back at me! And by all means, if you have a ~~fellow mental patient~~ special someone to pass the madness along to - feel free!

Peace, Love & Thorazine,

Don't make me get the flying monkeys!!!

2010-03-02T16:58:00.001-06:00

Good grief what a week or two it's been. I have totally neglected my blog - neglected commenting on y'all even more so. (Sorry!) Lately I don't know which what is up, down, or under - and I keep checking the sky to some if some caterwauling heiffer and her mangey ass dog are fixin' to floop down on my head and steal my shoes...

Between the damned constant migraines, insomnia, Kik's PMS, this damned weather, my claustrophobia from being stuck in this motel, chronic insomnia, crackhead tweakers living nextdoor, nightmare nitpicky clients, gimme gimmes with their hands out - all on top of my usual neurotic madness - it's a wonder I have not climbed up on top of the building and started flinging poo at the passing train... Splat! Splat! Mother fucker! People really don't know how lucky they truly are. Of late, I could chunk a turd hard enough to send your left nut flyin'. Trust.

But all in all, it's progress. The influx of work - not matter how frustrating it may be - is coin in the purse and one step closer to moving this summer. Just have to keep it all in perspective and remember it is for the greater good and soon I will be out of this gawd forsaken infected twat of a state and can bid adieu to the whole graphics world once and for all. It's all steppin' on babies and doin' the fukkit dance to get to the life I will soon be living. Nothing in this world is free (unless I am designing your blog, apparently) and this is just me earning my keep for the world that is about to open up.

And no I am not medicated. Ha ha ha! I am really just trying to keep the positive energy flowing and moving forward - and since my Give a Damn has, in fact, busted, hopefully it won't be too hard a row to hoe. It's much easier with a goal and something to look forward to. When one can say only "X" more months or "X" more jobs, et cetera.

I've got jobs lined up and somewhat organized now, so perhaps I will be able to maintain my presence here a little better. I miss hearing what all is up with all of y'all. I have dozens of unfinished drafts to post, so perhaps I will go back and revisit some of those and try to breathe a little life into this sad little blog again.

I hope all is well in your worlds. Stop in and leave a comment or two.

Would love to hear from ya!

A Rabbity Things™ (Re)Design

2010-02-26T15:47:00.002-06:00

For mom's bday - Kacklin' with KaLynn:

New look! Same great taste (in designers)!!!

Go have a looksee! (And wish her a Happy Day of her Birfses while you're there!)

Blogging without Givahootery [Redux]

2010-02-26T08:36:00.003-06:00

[I never thought I'd say it, but thank goodness for Google Reader. I wrote this post eariler in the week and for whatever reason, Blogger ate it, or it commited suicide, or it is the one that shit on the floor so it's hiding under the bed - I dunno. It vanished. But, fortunately, Reader caches everything, so it was still over there. Yay! (It might behoove you too to follow yourself in Reader in the event this happens to you too. Blogger lately has been like a crackwhore on payday...)]

Did I miss the memo somewhere stating it was National I'm a Cunt Month? People have just been giant globs of anal leakage lately. That 'Contact' page I have up is beginning to be more trouble than it's worth. It's too easy for internet jackholes to leave ugly remarks anonymously. I have been called a "bitter old lady" - which I hate to tell 'em that my titties may be detachable but this is not a King Missle ditty swingin' in the breeze, sweetcheeks. I have been told I am going to spontaneously combust during The Rapture because of all my tattoos - and here I thought it was because I liked to drop the soap. It's just been ongoing lately... Don't these people have porn or Bible Study or, fuck, Yo Gabba Gabba or something??? Leave me the hell alone.

And then, I just got amused. The last one (tonight/this morning - it's dark, I dunno) told me that if I weren't so offensive I might get more followers. Well, it's true that having beaucoup pen pals and 70 plus comments would make me happier than a ten inch dick. But then I realized, I don't give a damn or a fuck or a shit or a horny cross-eyed hoot. This is my blog. Don't yell at me because you got in trouble at work for "browsing inappropriate web content." There's a disclaimer on the front fucking paging tellin' yo' dumb ass I say FUCK too much you giant water balloon of douche. Here's a novel concept: get off the fucking internet and do your job... You festering water buffalo freak.

And for the record, I don't give a flying fuck or a rolling rimjob what you or anyone else thinks of me. You're dismissed.
~ from the movie, Gypsy 83

Rambling. I was going somewhere with this. Damn tangents.

I decided I just don't care. And we have all these willy nilly "Blogging with Integrity" and "Blogging for a Reason" and "Blogging for no Fucking Reason At All" and "Blogging without Obligation" and "Blogging because I am such a Skeeze no one IRL with talk to me." So I am hereby and thusly creating my own: "Blogging without Givahootery." (It was Givafukkery, but I didn't think anyone would latch on to that one except me.)

"Blogging without Givahootery" is just that. Blog. And don't give a hoot what anyone thinks. Don't give a hoot if Suzy Ho'Maker has 487 followers. It's not like she keeps up with 90% of them. It's a number that she masturbates with Disco Extra Greasay Short'nin to to make herself feel better. One in a million. Literally. Don't give a hoot if Tara Diddle gets a bajillion comments a day because she's whoring herself on the corner of Desperation and Whine and paying people in hand jobs and Skittles. Don't give a hoot if Mama Jim is offended or Two-Toof Tessie crapped herself because you said Fuck. Fuck it. Say fuck. Don't give a hoot.

It's your blog. Own it. Work it. Sell it. Slap it on the ass and call it Big Daddy if you want to. I think we get caught up in the cliquery of it all sometimes - and don't kid yourself that this shit aint clique-ish. It is and it's ugly. I often times have felt invisible because of these bitches. But I don't want to play their reindeer games anymore. They all smell like a fat boy's unwashed and sweaty taint - and giant fur covered , self-glorifying, drooling asses just aint my thing.

I don't give a HOOT!!! (Damn it!)

If you want to devoid yourself of all the hootery, grab the button. Whoever would like to have it is welcome to it. Post it. And blog your little nubby fingers off hoot freely. I know I am.

Do you give a hoot? Or is it all just hogwash?

FFFUUUCCCKKK!!!

2010-02-25T17:28:00.000-06:00

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!

And God Damn It, too.

That is all,

My Bunny is not Evil! Damn it!

2010-02-22T09:54:00.003-06:00

Y'all is some crazy cracked out snoofs, I tell ya! My bunny mascot/logo/whatever is NOT evil and he's not coming to stab you with his carroty bit. Well he might if you keep calling him mean! Just to show you.

Do you see a resemblance here?

Kokopelli

"Coelhopelli"

Who Was Kokopelli?

Known as a fertility god, prankster, healer and story teller, Kokopelli has been a source of wonder throughout the country for centuries. Kokopelli embodies the true American Southwest, and dates back over 3,000 years ago, when the first petroglyphs were carved. Although his true origins are unknown, this traveling, flute-playing Casanova is a sacred figure to many Southwestern Native Americans. Carvings of this hunch-backed flute-playing figure have been found painted and carved into rock walls and boulders throughout the Southwest.

There are many myths of the famous Kokopelli. One of which is that he traveled from village to village bringing the changing of winter to spring; melting the snow and bringing about rain for a successful harvest. It is also said that the hunch on his back depicted the sacks of seeds and songs he carried. Legend also has it that the flute playing also symbolized the transition of winter to spring. Kokopelli’s flute is said to be heard in the spring’s breeze, while bringing warmth. It is also said that he was the source of human conception. Legend has it, everyone in the village would sing and dance throughout the night when they heard Kokopelli play his flute. The next morning, every maiden in the village would be with child.

Whatever the true meaning of Kokopelli is, he has been a source of music making and dancing, and spreading joy to those around him. Even today, Kokopelli, with his hunchback and flute, is always welcome in our homes.

"If Kokopelli has lured you with his magical flute,
it is time to listen to his song.

This song is one of fertility.
You are being asked to use your talents to

create fertility in some area of your life.
If things have been slow moving,

Kokopelli's song is saying that whatever
you intend to plant at this time will

be very productive for you.

Planting seeds for the future takes effort on your part, so now is the

time to use your skill and resources to make use of the magic.

If you have a project to begin or an idea to develop,
the timing couldn't be better.

Shift away from any old, limiting ideas and move forward.
The time is now - the power is you !"

"Coelho" is my name (Rabbit) in Portuguese - thusly Coelhopelli was bourne. A friend of mine sent me the image when Redhead Dancing came about as I hadn't anything rabbity on the blog. So he's not evil. He's me! A trickster. A dancer. A musician. A creator. A promoter of growth and rebirth...

Plus he has a huge dick, which is never a bad thing to be associated with!!!

And now, you know!

More Kokopelli information can be found HERE.

Get your Pretty on!

2010-02-22T00:17:00.003-06:00

Don't miss out on this greatSpiffy Spring Special!!!

Check out Rabbity Things™ Designs for examples or CLICK HERE to contact me for more information!

Why in mad tranny hell....

2010-02-21T01:02:00.002-06:00

...did Cher

steal Teresa's weave?

Dark Lady will fuck you up, Half Breed!!!

"Prostitution WHORE!!!"

Damn, I'm pretty!

2010-02-20T01:51:00.002-06:00

Miss Britches gave me this award yesterday (Fankya!) and it was a great welcome back after being down for the count for almost a week. The rules are as such:

Thank the person who nominated you and link to their blog.
Copy the award and paste it to your blog.
Tell us 7 interesting facts about you.

Yeah, I know - there's another stipulation about nominating 342 other bloggers, their west-facing pets, the lampost of 4th & Aubergine, the fat lady on the bus, the Squirrel fearing prima donna from the Post Office, and any Slavic great-grandmothers with cheese farts, but that's so much to do and you are all so gob-smacking gorgeous that I couldn't decide on whom to pay it forward to. So if you would like to play, I hereby and such and so award you Purty. Party on, Garth!

My seven oddities are:

I really do function in my own language. I never remember the proper words for things - movies in particular (Breakout Castle, Ocean Cracker, That One with Girl with the Jewelry - anyone?) so I just make up my own. I do this with songs/artists: Nellie Retardo, "I'm Like a Turd" ? And yes, I rewrite the entire song... Inanimate objects: That turner upper thingie. People: Fred (for the longest time, years, EVERYone was Fred. It was easier)...
I write whole dialogues and story lines for the most minute moments. I got myself all worked up just last night over a Rice Krispie commercial that should have been innocuous enough, but I had written the back story to be that the mother/daughter were waiting up for the father to come home, not knowing that his plane had crashed and he was dead. I was seriously crying over this at 3 a.m.
I would be perfectly content to never leave the house. If I could make a living from within my rabbit's den and have things delivered, I would never venture out in public. Ever.
I am very touch me not. Both with my possessions - and my person. Do. Not. Touch. It drives me infuckingsane.
I don't trust anyone to clean properly. Even if it is "clean," nine time out of ten, I will reclean it to make certain it IS in fact, clean. Or at least clean enough for me. Don't get me started on public restrooms or hotels.
If I were affixed with a limitless, disposable income, I would just have a spam key installed in the back of my head so that when my face starts to sag I can just krrink that shit back taut. Granted I would eventually make Joan Rivers look like Shirley Temple as a child, but by golly goobers, I wouldn't be wrinkley!
I'm really not as neurotic as I sound. Oh fuck! Was that lightening??? (Good thing there's only 7 questions!!!)

A Month of Me: Day 12 (The End of an Era)

2010-02-20T00:56:00.003-06:00

Well, as of today and after just over two years and 500 + posts, Rabbity Things (as a "gossip blog") is no more. I've been struggling with the idea of closing it down for a while now. I just haven't had the time - or the interest - to maintain it for some time. The market is now so over saturated with similar sites that I just don't want to deal with the competition - and I am really not interested in keeping up with it all. When it all began the market was minimal. I have never really been one to watch t.v. or keep up with the whozitsfucking enough to really make a success out of it. I would force myself to watch this program or that - get bored before it was over and then by the time I actually got the post up - it was old snooze and the cycle started again.

I kept all the posts, so it will be entertaining to go back and review them after a spell. Some may even resurface on here. There were some great posts out that way. But for now, I am using it as a gateway to my design work. I will eventually get off my ass and actually build the portfolio under the rabbitythings.com domain, but this is it for the moment. It feels strange. I made peace with letting it go - as I have done with a few other projects this year, but there still feels a bit of a void.

I knew 2010 was to be a year of change, I just didn't realize how much - nor did I realize how much it would affect me. Gofigger.

Stay tuned for a rockin' announcement regarding Rabbity Things™ Designs, though. Have a couple of really great specials coming up that I think you'll be jazzed about. AND come check out - and join us, dang it - over a Boho Bloggers. It's really building itself in quite and amazing little artist colony!

And woo - fat fuckin - hoo! After a week straight, the damned headache is gone!

Halleyeehaw!

UPDATE: To clarify, Redhead Dancing is not going anywhere. Chaos will ensue as normal here. My other blog, Rabbity Things, is the one going away. I am not jumping ship (shark, maybe, but not ship), I am just eliminating dead weight. Sorry for the confusion, y'all. The redhead is still, most definitely, dancing.

Is it just me, or...

2010-02-19T13:30:00.001-06:00

...is there something inherently wrong with this graphic?

I guess when you gotta go, you gotta go... But I really hope that is his other foot in the background.

The Latest from Rabbity Things™ Designs!

2010-02-15T23:43:00.000-06:00

Check out my latest! I really dig this one!

The look and vibe of this blog design so complement

the energy that "Mystz" puts out into the Universe.

Be sure and check out her blog, too, here.

Well Hello, Mojo! Nice to see you again.

2010-02-14T13:43:00.001-06:00

My favouritest design! (Yes, I know. I say that every time - humour me. Whatever.)

Go check out my latest spec for "Blah... Blah... Blog!" I ♥ it!

Got Art?

2010-02-14T05:48:00.001-06:00

Introducing the (official) launch

of BOHO BLOGGERS!!!

Click here to check out our new online
Artists' Blogging Collaborative!

Boho Bloggers is an artists' blogging collaborative for everyone wishing to share their creative spirit. Painters & Poets. Doodlers & Designers. Playwrights & Novelists. Jewelers & Couturiers. Dancers & Musicians. Singers & Songwriters. Photographers & Fantasizers. Hair Stylists & Make-Up Artists.

The list goes on and on... If it's creative, it counts.

Sell your wares. Trade your talents. Or just show the world what you've got! Anything goes.

For more information, contact me (Rabbit) here and join us in making The Universe a better place one piece of Art at a time! Even if you are not as artistically inclined as your won't you be my neighbor, you are still more than welcome to engage in this artistic endeavour and Follow or Subscribe To the blog - and keep up with the latest update by following us on Twitter @BohoBloggers!

(Guest posting is also available.)

Tell your friends! Tell your Mama!
Come join us - and GO BOHO!

A Month of Me: Day 11 (In which my mojo has died a horrible death, and I survived my agoraphobia - well, not really - and another fucking migraine.)

2010-02-14T05:42:00.003-06:00

I was down for the count, but my SWS for this week was: Please someone, make it fucking stop.

Fuck. What a week. It rained non-stop here which drives me bat shit on a street rat INsane. Living with agoraphobia, I don't usually go many places anyway. I go to the post office and the dollar store which are within my safety zone - but if I have to cross the street to go to the market I freak the fuck out. However, when it's raining and I can't go anywhere, I get stir crazy. No logic. Don't ask. It's like telling a kid they can not do something they don't want to do anyway and suddenly they want to do it.

Friday, it was finally nice enough to go out - and I spent ten and a half hours literally making myself sick trying to leave the house. Panic attack. I actually got up and got dressed. Panic attack. Got my bag ready. Panic attack. Had it all sitting here ready to go. Panic attack. This started at 7:30 a.m. - I still hadn't made it when Ki got home at almost 9 p.m. I just couldn't do it. And I was a physical wreck by the time it was all said and done.

Then today, I get slammed with one of my headaches. I am prone to Occular Migraines and they just come out of nowhere. It begins with little white spots in your vision - like snow - and turns into TV static on the wrong channel - WITH the noise. Eventually you can't see anything or tolerate sound, light, scent - anything. Then there's the vomiting and the aching and all sorts of other fun stuff. I caught this one today, fortunately, before it had a chance to get that bad but it still took me out for most of the day... I just laid on the couch for a good chunk of the day. And, of course, it was gorgeous outside and I missed it... Gofigger.

And then, just for gits and shiggles, all that fabulous creative mojo from last has died has died horribly in the night with its flesh errupting in boils and is laying on the side of the road like John Bobbit's hacked off pecker...

In the course of one job, I have gone completely flat. I'm frustrated and out of ideas. I am on the third incarnation of this thing, and still at square one. I didn't really have any direction or anything to go off out (from the client) to begin with and all I have gotten thus far is what they do not like. So in a job I got paid for once, I have done three - and turned down another one because I was working on this one. You do the math. FRUStrating.

Then, as if my injury weren't insulted enough, I was looking at other blogs, trying to get ideas and inspiration and I began to notice a trend. All these snazzy-ass cookie cutter blog templates that everyone is using of late. You know they kind - they're not dissimilar to these (via JellyPages.com):

I've often admired many of these blogs, and wondered how on earth the "Designers" (hahahhhahahahaha) had the time to build so many for such a large group of people. Tonight, why looking for ideas, I come to find out: They're not. I was looking at the page source for many of these blogs and time and again I find this:

/*
-----------------------------------------------
Blogger Template Style
Name:     Minima
Designer: Douglas Bowman
URL:      www.stopdesign.com
Date:     26 Feb 2004
Updated by: Blogger Team
----------------------------------------------- */

Which means, all they are doing is ripping off the original blog template that Mr. Bowman there created and scotch taping pretty pictures to it. And they charge what I do!!! In fact, I brought my prices WAY down so as to compete only to find out that I am competing with something that is far less than competition. So now, the conundrum is 'what do I do?' Do I return my prices to what they were because with me people are actually getting a customized, original design? Or do I follow the sheep and sell ripped off cookie cutter designs to the sheeple so that I can stay in the same price point? I am gob smacked at this. Really. Out of the two dozen or so blogs I have just looked at, there were two "customized designs" that weren't a theft of a Blogger template. So I have been killing myself for bupkis. Arrrgghhh. It just all seems so shady and sneaky and wrong. [To check your own template - just out of the sake of curiousity and to see what you actually paid for - from your blogs home page in your browser, at the top, click "View" then "Page Source" and look to see if the above text is there. If it is, you could have done your design your danged self.]

Anyway - I am just bitching and rambling and annoyed. I'm sure you're as bored with it as I am. Hopefully this next week will improve and all will be well. Last week showed such promise - perhaps this week will follow through.

Fuck it,

P.S. To update on my Valentine's dilemma, I just said the hell with it. I didn't even bother. I am just not in the mood for any more negativity or unappreciative snark. Sosaid friend mentioned in the previous post gets shit from me. It sucks, and it is almost as hurtful (to me) in knowing that I can't even give something to someone. But my joy is in the giving and I am not going to allow them to take that away from me. So I will just keep it to myself. Sucks... But, fuck it. I am really not upset or mad, really - just disheartened and discouraged. This is why I hate holidays.

Music Memoirs: Top 5 on Friday

2010-02-12T10:26:00.000-06:00

Week 230

Top 5 songs that get you through the Valentine's holiday.

Vday is one of my least favourite holidays ever. It's such a sham. Buy candy for and be nice to someone that the rest of the year you pretty much treat like shit? What a crock.

So, in light of, here are my top five Vday songs:

I Hate Myself for Loving You - Joan Jett
I Hate Everything About You - Ugly Kid Joe
Violet - Hole
I Hope You Die - Bloodhound Gang
Kiss My Ass - Jackie Beat

Love, love, love...

It's not you. I promise. Can we still be friends?

2010-02-11T10:53:00.000-06:00

I am not avoiding or dissing or whatever any of you. However, if you have word verification on your comments, I will no longer be commenting. Over the past few days I have left several comments only to have them eaten and shat like an exuberant asshole with too much Taco Bell into the great abyss of word verification blogger land. I give up. I am boycotting, damn it!

Those things just irk the clotted poo right out of me. They (Blogger's version, at least) are ineffective and unnecessary, especially if you have anonymous comments turned off. It's redundant overkill. And I am not doing it any more. I left a rather lengthy and well thought out comment yesterday (even shockingly devoid of my notorious FUCKs) and it vanished.

So fuck it. Grrrr... So annoyed.

End of rant.

Coming Soon! Boho Bloggers by Rabbity Things™!

2010-02-10T17:45:00.001-06:00

Coming soon to an
internet near you!

Click HERE for a preview
and for more information!

A Month of Me: Day 10 (Grab that pussy and twirl, girl!)

2010-02-10T13:30:00.000-06:00

No, I've not abandoned my 30 day project, I promise! It's just been nuts around here the past few days. Two new blog design projects just from Miss Penny's blog. And - stay tuned for it - I am starting an Artist's Blogging Collaborative called Boho Bloggers that should debut sometime this week. Was hoping to launch it today but I don't think that's going to happen. The idea is to create a community blog for artists of all kinds - no matter the medium - to show off, sell, and trade their works. Will be touching base with a few of you on that here shortly. If you'd be interested in being a part of it, give me a shout and I will get you the invite.

But anyway - more in depth days soon. I am just trying to keep up with the whirlwind of things that are flying around like mad at the moment! And a HUGE merci beau to all of those of you who have inquired about design work! You're keep my mojo flowin' and my belly full! Much appreciated!

Such an amazing song (and movie).

2010-02-10T08:40:00.002-06:00

Lyrics | Glen Hansard - Falling Slowly lyrics from one of my all time favourite movies, Once. Seek if out if you don't know it. It is absolutely tremendous.

More random Geekery for the next time you're bumpin' uglies with Alex Trebek.

2010-02-10T07:59:00.000-06:00

A playwright, also known as a dramatist, is a person who writes dramatic literature or drama. These works are usually written to be performed in front of a live audience by actors. They may also be closet dramas or literary works written using dramatic forms but not meant for performance.

The term is not a variant spelling of "playwrite", but something quite distinct: the word wright is an archaic English term for a craftsman or builder (as in a wheelwright or cartwright). Hence the prefix and the suffix combine to indicate someone who has wrought words, themes, and other elements into a dramatic form, someone who crafts plays. The homophone with write is in this case entirely coincidental.

Now you know.

Music Memoirs: Tuesday Tunes

2010-02-09T13:33:00.003-06:00

Via Music Memoirs : Tuesday Tunes - Week 120

From one frozen meme mistress to you...let's do something fun.

You fill in songs that start with the first letter of this phrase.

Say it to Me - Glen Hansard
November Spawned a Monster - Morrissey
O Fortuna - Carl Orff
When I Needed You - Erasure

Sweet Emmylou - Joey & Rory
Ugly - Juliana Hatfield
Crazy - Patsy Cline
Kiss, The - The Cure
She Walks on Me - Hole

I have come to a decision.

2010-02-09T01:16:00.010-06:00

[Update: To the ever so eloquent anonymous commenters: First of all, SUCK IT. Secondly, if you do not speak Rabbitese and are obviously not a follower of my blog and haven't the foggiest as to the context of all things redheaded and dancing, do not try to pass judgement with your pettiness. Those that know, smell the humour in this post like dog shit on a shoe. Call up Vanna White's antiquated cooch and get a clue, m'dear. And thirdly, if you are gonna be festered pecker in comments, at least have the nuts to leave a name. The whole anonymous thing is such a fat pussy way to go. Cheers.

And on with the show:]

Valentine's Day and it's gifts and pretentious bullshit can suck the unwiped poo from my hairy hole of bung.

It's stressin' me out, and I don't need anymore undue stress. And it really shouldn't be about that anyway. I am allowing it to blow up into something it's not. It's yet another day to sell more candy and pack more weight onto our already fat asses. It's sad, really, that it takes some bastardization of a holiday for people to be remotely nice to one another - it's worse than Commercialmas.

So fuck you flying fat baby. I will snatch away your quiver and bow and shove it up your pee hole. That damned love bug better watch the fuck out, too, because I have a can of Raid and killer fuckin' aim. And, trust, you really don't want to see my crazy ass wielding a flip-flop and screeching Iko-Iko! either. Scary shit there.

*sigh*

I feel better now.

"Life is not about...

2010-02-08T22:30:00.000-06:00

...waiting for the storm to pass.

It's about learning to dance in the rain."

Dilemma

2010-02-08T19:10:00.000-06:00

Okay my loyal Rabbiteers, feed me back on this one. At what point do you just say fuck it? I have been racking my brain trying to figure out something to do for a friend of mine for Valentine's Day... My problem is not what to do (though I have not yet figured that out yet, either) but really more of a 'why bother' type issue. Most times when I try to do something for this person, I get little to nothing from them, or a snide remark. So, well... Do I even make the effort or is it just a 'why bother'? I am one of those that squees with unadulterated joy at something as simple as a box of crayons. Woo hoo!!! Now, mind you, I do not expect that, in the least, but a dick's drip of graciousness might not be that bad.

It just makes me not want to even try. I do what I can - usually in trade with others for graphics or hair-dids or the like because I haven't a real income and am more broke than an unfunny joke. So I am limited and what little I usually CAN do takes some effort and finagling. The last thing I managed (to do) was met with "well that's great but it doesn't pay the rent." Well, fuck you too then. Give it back then. I really don't know what to do. A part of me wants to do something - but then a part of me doesn't want to get my feelings hurt again. Even knowing what to expect and steeling myself for it, I still get my feelings hurt. It's just how I am. I expect everyone else to be like me knowing full well 99% of them are unmitigated pus oozing asshole monkeys.

So, my conundrum is - do I even try? Or do I just let them sit there sad and ignored because you know aint no one else is going to do any damned thing for them either for the holiday? Maybe I should just do something for myself instead... No hurt feelings there...

What would you do? What should I do? Ugh. I really hate people sometimes. So ugly.

Bless Their Hearts (Or - Dumb Ass Yankees!!!)

2010-02-08T11:28:00.002-06:00

The New York Post. What the fuck is "Goeux"?

Couldn't someone have verified that before it went to print?

I mean it's not like

GEAUX SAINTS!!!

isn't everywhere these days...

Lawdy Miz Clawdy & Gawd luv'em. They tried.
What a bunch of YANKers.

I have a theme song.

2010-02-07T20:02:00.004-06:00

Thank you Superbowl 44! This is the Poxy Boggards as featured in the Docker's commercial. In light of the week I had, I thought it fitting (or not so?), all things considered and such.

Relatedly, maybe someone should buy me some of these to avoid the no pants situation - and just because I am cute and have no shame in begging! Check out all the cool styles. Who knew???

Great vs. Grateful

2010-02-07T09:47:00.001-06:00

My inner geek has been rummaging again - the whole great/grateful spelling thing has been driving me bonkers. And, actually, had one thought about it, the answer was quite simple...

Grateful is a derivative of Gratitude. Hence the "grat..." I.e. Full of Gratitude. Not full of greatness. Duh. I'd never really considered the actually meaning of either word. Had I, it might have been easier to figure out. Though they sound phonetically similar, they are not the same thing...

So now you know (in case you cared). This has been a public service announcement.

Six Word Saturday

2010-02-06T06:51:00.005-06:00

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.

My creative mojo's
making a return!

I can't be more grateful to Penny for hiring me to revamp her blog. It seems to have kicked in my creativity and got me out of this grouchy ass slump I have been in for the last few forevers. And her timing couldn't have been better - I was literally down to less than a dollar to my name. Of course, the bulk of it is already spent - but that's the way the dick dangles in today's world. Her new blog design has generated tons of interest - an inordinate amount that really surprised me - so perhaps I can get some more work from it.

I had such fun creating her design. She really just asked in passing, and didn't give me a whole lot to go on. I just used her vibe and energy and ran with whatever came to mind. Turns out she loved the spec - and, for the most part, that inital maybe became the design you now see. Didn't have to do a whole lot of changes to the initial idea at all. She's happy with it and I am more than thrilled. It's one of my favourite designs of late by far.

I am working on creating a pseudo-portfolio over on Tumblr with some of my design work so that I have somewhere to refer folks to for examples of what I do. I also ginked my own blog up a little bit - added a third column and a little marquee with the four most current blogspot designs - but it seems to have a mind of its own (the marquee, that is) and runs any which way it wants to... Will have to look at it and see if I can't figure out that the deal is with it - but it's kind of entertaining to see what in the slappy happy wet ass it's doing now... Yeah, I'm easily amused.

Anyway... That's my Saturday and its words of six today. It's been one hell of a week - for everyone it seems. Curious to see what the rest of y'all are sixin' today.

Cheers.

p.s. Why is great spelled great but grateful is not spelled greatful???

A Month of Me: Day 9 (Busy work...)

2010-02-05T11:57:00.001-06:00

No real funnery to report today. Have been busy working on a new look for the Blog Formerly Known as The Winter of our Discontent and now known as Penny Lane. She wanted something new and upbeat. I think I achieved it. She's not given the final Hoo-Hah! yet, but it is live. Check it out and let me know what you think. I rather like it. It fits Penny perfectly, I think.

Went to the Post Office this morning - and while nothing happened this time AT the post office, I do have a funny for you. I am about 70 lbs. or so underweight at this point. Being a broke ass ho, I've not the money to buy new clothes - nor do many people make clothes for someone with a 20something inch waist and a 34-36 inch inseam... My britches fell the fuck off as I was walking down the damned road. Off, dude! Around my ankles off!!! I tripped. I fell. FORTUNATELY, I had my draws on underneath (which is not the norm), so all of Copperas Cove got to see my "Greetings from the Pole" snowman boxers... Go me.

But no bitching today. Or ranting or raving or hysteria. Just a plain ol' boring day staying busy and hoping for more work. It's kind of a relief actually. I have had about enough lately...

Honest Crap

2010-02-04T12:16:00.002-06:00

I was awarded the Honest Scrap award by Miss Penny Lane over at The Winter of our Discontent. The rules of the game are as such:

"The Honest Scrap award comes with a caveat or two. First, you have to tell your readers ten things about you they may not know, but that are true. Second, you have to tag 10 people with the award. Third, let all the people you've given the award to know that they've gotten it (comment on their blogs or something). And finally, make sure you link back to the person who awarded you."

So here I sit trying to come up with ten things... What to share? What to hide? What won't freak my readers the fuck out and send them running crazy and naked to the nearing Nutcracker?

I am terrified - paralytically paranoid - of birds. Fuck you, Alfred Hitchcock.
IRL, I am painfully shy. Wallflower hide in the corner shy. I often get misread as being a snob because of it.
I really despise cunty feminists that foam at the twat about not getting respect but then, when they do get the said respect they are oozing about, they foam at the ass about that too.
I really adore cunty drag queens. As long as I am on the right end of their cuntishnessery.
I am colourblind. I see colours, but I have great difficulty differentiating them. I've never, ever, seen the colour purple in my life. I've trained myself to recall numbers for different colours. Inversely, however, I see shade and tone better than most people with perfect eyesight. That's what has made me such a good hair colourist and make-up aritist (and graphic designer). I don't get hung up on the red/yellow/blue aspect - all I see it what is complimentary in tone and shade.
I hate wearing shoes. I wear them as little as possible. Even in winter. They just feel weird to me. BUT - I collect them like they are going out of style.
Cult leaders fascinate the hell out of me. (Bah Dum Bum) Not for WHAT they achieve, but for how they do it. How does one get so many people to believe so much bullshit with such abandon? Totally intriguing.
I do well to remember what day it is - short term - but I have a memory like an elephant. I can remember details from when I was a toddler with startling clarity. Must be a writer thing... Perhaps?
I can do live readings and the Tarot with such accuracy it frightens people. I am very touch-me-not because of it. I get flashes from people just being around them. I hear their worlds. It's like a hundred TVs tuned to a hundred different stations all at once - and on full volume. This is also a reason I rarely leave my home. I don't know how to turn it off.
I am about bored to shit with trying to come up with a number ten. I have walked away a dozen times now... So ten is just ten.

Okay... Now, there's my ten(ish). I am not going to tag you specifically because I adore - and engage - with all of you on a somewhat regular basis. So, if you would like to participate - please do. I would love to read your ten. These are such a great way to get to know one another.

HOWEVER! (You knew that was coming!) If you do choose to play, please link back to me - as I will to you, of course - and you MUST use MY new Honest Crap button now instead.

Pleats, Love, and Whirled Peas, y'all! And don't forget to dance!

- Rabbit

If "chivalry is dead," it's your own damned fault.

2010-02-04T11:39:00.003-06:00

Dear Exacerbated Asshole,

I was raised to be a door holder, chair puller outer, car door opener, flat tire changer... I am a yes ma'am please and thank you-er... But in recent years, such actions are met with nothing but disdain and hostility and contempt and just down right fucking hatefulness.

So you know what? Open your own fucking doors. I hope the chair slides out from under you and you fall on your fat puckered ass in the middle of the crowded restaurant. Change your own tire - and break a fucking nail - in the rain on the side of the interstate - during rush hour. It's all yours. And get the fuck out of my way while you're at it. I was here first.

I'm done.

People bitch about getting no respect - get it - and then bitch about that, too. Well, fuck you Suzy Homaker. You can do it your gawd damned self.

Sorry 'bout your angry twat and your skewed perception of what is intended to be polite - and GASP! - chivalrous.

Hope you win.

- Rabbit

A Month of Me: Day 8 (To quote Margaret Cho because I am melting down and have no words of my own today.)

2010-02-03T16:34:00.002-06:00

"I am not nice. I am a fucking bitch. I have been known to shoplift. I complain all the time. I am unbearable and annoying...

I am possibly the most manipulative person you are likely to encounter. If you look in the dictionary under "selfish," you will see my name and a small artist's rendering of my face.

The people in my world who love me the most live in a kind of hell from which they cannot escape, because even though I am who I am, what I am, how horrible I am, my love is overwhelming. This terrible incarceration they choose willingly, and their suffering is compensated many times over.

I am ferociously mean and unbearably kind, and this paradox is what keeps my friends close and my enemies closer. I hate injustice, dishonesty, cowardice, greed, stupidity - but that doesn't stop me from committing all of these acts in one way or another. I am not nice. Not in the least."

Couldn't have said it better myself. Today I am the whiney bitch I bitch about. I feel trapped and on the verge of totally losing my shit - and just don't know what to do about it. I'll figure it out, somehow, I know but today I am just wallowing in it. So fuck it. No dancing.

"Girl, I just shit my pants!"

2010-02-03T11:43:00.002-06:00

[Language (obviously) NSFW]

I don't know what it is about us NYC Queens and our obsession with bodily functions... It's fuckin' funny though. And HUGE props for the nod to Leigh Bowery in the video. Love me some Sherry Vine!

A Month of Me: Day 7 (Slap me with a ten inch dick - Or, watch Rabbit go screaming from his own life.)

2010-02-02T18:33:00.001-06:00

Well good fucking gracious. Ever have one of THOSE days? Today made those days look like backroom sex with Captain Kangaroo. Trust.

I got up bright and early (and really fucking cold) to go mail some stuff at the post office. Easy enough. I'm standing there trying to figure out which hole to cram my shit in when a HUGE ruckus breaks out accompanied by a blood curdling scream that would make a banshee go, "What the fuck!?!?!" I turn around - after picking my cane and the to be mailed mail off the floor to see some whacked out bitch hyperventilating perched ON the four foot counter over the garbage can. Who knew a grown ass woman in a pencil skirt could hop like that. I still have no idea what the hell is going on. Grandpa Not-So-Jolly that works there comes out right about the same time a fucking squirrel pops around the corner. Spaz Princess FLIPS the fuck out and is now STANDING on the counter screaming incessantly. I don't know if this happens all the time. If the squirrel and Ol' Man Grumpy Butt are friends... Or what, but just as calm as can be he just walks over opens the front door for the little guy and away he scampers. Bi-fucking-zarre. He looks at me and shrugs and goes back into the back - never once even acknowledging the now mental patient freaking the fuck out on the counter... Surreal. I am just standing there in shock. Muffy finally climbs down and rights herself with a "Hmph!" and goes into the front office area. Lawd knows what ensued there... I mail my shit and get the fuck out - still not real sure if what just happened really happened. My life is never ending.

Then - I found religion.

And a pair of shitty draws. Went and did a bit of shopping for this week and called a cab to come back to the motel. They sent a cab. What they forgot to send was a driver. Instead I got the Owl from the Tootsie Roll commercials. This woman was seriously, maybe 5 feet tall if she was lucky and wearing stilts. She had to lean UP to see over the steering wheel. And was sporting glasses that would make a coke bottle jealous. I almost just walked back right then and there - schlepping my ground chuck on my damn back. Did I mention that I am terrified of riding in cars. Not just nervous. Serious vehicular phobia. But, I cowboy up and get in anyway... And away we go. AT WARP FUCKING SPEED across the parking lot. I am not sure she is going to stop at the road. We schooch up. She kinda glances both ways - and GUNS it. Straight across four lanes of oncoming traffic - BOTH WAYS!!! And not even into the little turn in place across the way! Just straight across - into the parking lot across the street... Cuts through THAT parking lot and we're on the street on the backside of my motel. I don't say a word. I pray. I chant. I shit myself. I clutch my meat. The stop light to turn into the motel is immediately adjacent to the parking lot. IMMEDIATELY. The light is yellow. She guns it again and shwipps into the lot. This is not where I need to be, but I can hoof it from here. Never been so happy to see the ground.

Then - the bathroom floods. Not just a little water. A good 6 inches of standing water. Through the wall. Soaking the carpet. In the closet. I go down to ask for a mop - which this place doesn't have. I explain the problem and Habib just stares at me like I am speaking Portuguese through my pee hole. I ask for towels. I get three hotel grade hand towels. Needless to say, the floor is still wet. Fortunately it is just clean water - I am not hurtling turds or anything.

But fuck if it hasn't been a day. How was yours???

When The Saints come marchin' in, hold on to your hoo-cha, Miami. Deys gonna be a Boucherie!

2010-02-01T15:00:00.000-06:00

[via Nola.com]

"Dear Miami,

The Saints are coming. And so are we, their loyal, long-suffering and slightly discombobulated Super Bowl-bound fans.

While there's still time to prepare -- although a few hard-core Who Dats will begin trickling in Monday, most of us won't arrive until Thursday or Friday -- we thought we'd give you a heads-up about what you should expect.

First things first: You need more beer.

Yeah, we know. You ordered extra. You think you have more than any group of humans could possibly consume in one week. Trust us. You don't.

New Orleans was a drinking town long before the Saints drove us to drink. But it turns out beer tastes better when you're winning. (Who knew?) So let's just say we're thirsty for more than a championship; adjust your stockpiles accordingly.

And look. When we ask you for a go-cup, be nice to us. We don't even know what "open container law" means. Is that anything like "last call"?

It's Carnival season in New Orleans (that's Mardi Gras to you), and we'll be taking the celebration on the road. So don't be startled if you walk past us and we throw stuff at you; that's just our way of saying hello.

Oh, and sorry in advance about those beads we leave dangling from your palm trees. We just can't help ourselves.

February is also crawfish season, and you can be sure that more than one enterprising tailgater will figure out a way to transport a couple sacks of live mudbugs and a boiling pot to Miami.

When the dude in the 'Who Dat' T-shirt asks if you want to suck da head and pinch da tail, resist the urge to punch him. He's not propositioning you. He's inviting you to dinner.

And if you see a big Cajun guy who looks exactly like an old Saints quarterback walking around town in a dress ... don't ask. It's a long story.

We know that crowd control is a major concern for any Super Bowl host city. Our advice? Put away the riot gear.

Reason No. 1: Indianapolis is going to lose, and their fans are way too dull to start a riot.

Reason No. 2: New Orleans showed the world on Sunday that we know how to throw a victory party. We don't burn cars. We dance on them.

Reason No. 3: Even if we did lose, which we won't, leaving the stadium would be like leaving a funeral, and our typical response to that is to have a parade.

Speaking of which: If you happen to see a brass band roll by, followed by a line of folks waving their handkerchiefs, you're not supposed to just stand there and watch. As our own Irma Thomas would say, get your backfield in motion.

And hey, Mister DJ! Yes, we know you've already played that stupid Ying Yang Twins song 10 times tonight, but indulge us just one more time.

To us, "Halftime (Stand Up and Get Crunk)" isn't just a song; it's 576 points of good memories. It's the sound of a Drew Brees touchdown pass to Devery Henderson, a Pierre Thomas dive for first down on 4th-and-1, a Garrett Hartley field goal sailing through the uprights in overtime.

It's what a championship sounds like. You may get sick of hearing it. We won't. Encore, dammit.

Inside Sun Life Stadium, you may find your ears ringing more than usual. We're louder than other fans. Seven thousand of ours sound like 70,000 of theirs.

Don't believe us? Ask the 12th man in the Vikings huddle.

Some people think it's just the Dome that heightens our volume. But you're about to discover a little secret: We can scream loud enough to make your head explode, indoors or out.

It's not the roof. It's the heart.

Well, OK, and the beer.

Don't be surprised if there are more Saints fans outside the stadium than inside. A lot of us are coming just to say we were part of history, even if we can't witness it up close. The Saints are family to us, and you know how it is with family: We want to be there for them, whether they really need us or not. Because we know our presence will mean something to them, whether they can see us or not.

Come to think of it, seeing as how you're taking us in for the week, we pretty much regard you as family, too. So we're warning you now: If you're within hugging distance, you're fair game.

Hugging strangers is a proud Who Dat tradition, right up there with crying when we win.

Most sports fans cry when their teams lose. Not us. We've been losing gracefully and with good humor for 43 years. Tragedy and disappointment don't faze us. It's success that makes us go to pieces.

Hurricane Katrina? We got that under control. The Saints in the Super Bowl? SOMEBODY CALL A PARAMEDIC!!!

So anyway, don't let the tears of joy freak you out. We're just ... disoriented.

OK. Let's review:

Order more beer. Throw me something, mister. Suck da heads. Wear da dress. Stand up. Get crunk. Hug it out. Protect your eardrums. Pass the Kleenex. Hoist the trophy.

See you at the victory party.

Faithfully yours,
The Who Dat Nation"

By Mark Lorando, The Times-Picayune

A Month of Me: Day 6 (In which most Bloggers would offer some bullshit apology...)

2010-02-01T11:54:00.002-06:00

Yeah. But I am not most Bloggers. And I never said it was 30 consecutive days in the first place.

I have just felt real disconnected lately - from blogging - from the Twat-o-verse - from life in general. Everything - and everyone - annoys me. I just haven't been able to stand all the twattage lately. It just seems like an endless stream of virtual diarrhea.. All everyone does is either try to one-up each other or, inversely, bitch, moan, whine, and complain about everything under the sun. Yuck. Wipe your ass and shut the fuck up. And don't even get me started on Facebook. It's even worse.

Which is why I have not really blogged anything much in the past few days. I haven't anything of worth to say. So rather than becoming one of these people that I am so growing to despise, I have just shut myself the fuck up. I know if I don't want to hear it from everyone else, everyone else more than likely does not want to hear it from me either. I've gone through are pared down a huge chunk of people I was 'following' in an effort to eliminate that which irks the boobie. Get rid of the garbage, so to speak.

While I realize that for many this whole blogging/twatting/facebooking is their outlet - their forum - to act a douche in ways they never would IRL, that is not what it all was (originally) for me. Back in the day, blogging used to be people coming together to share ideas, and like-minded goals, and thoughts, and debates... Not an all out bitchfest or look how cute my kid's shitty diaper is or woe is me my life is the worst boo fucking hoo or such and so on. I guess it's reflective of the way of the world nowadays, though. No one has an original thought. No one has any concern for much other than their own hard on. Everyone is violently desperate for attention and validation. Everyone has to win. Be it the most glorious - the most pathetic - the most outlandish...

We live in a look at me society now, and often times, I wish I was blind. And deaf. And dumb. (Because you know my ass aint never gonna be mute!)

Perhaps I am just reassessing my intent with the whole internettery world. Perhaps I need to reevaluate with whom I associate and what I am hoping to gain. I know the way of it now is doing little to nothing for me. And, really, why participate if it is not somehow enriching your life, or the lives of others, in some way? It's counter-productive and a waste of (everyone's) time.

We'll see where it goes. This 30 Day thing (for anyone interested) really is proving to be quite a healthy endeavour. It really forces you to look at things objectively. You should try it...

Missed the Grammys? Let me sum it up...

2010-02-01T10:56:00.001-06:00

It smelled like this:

Yeah... That's pretty much the highlight. It was that good. Of course you missed Queen Elton and Our Lady of the Ga performing together... Which while the music was pretty rockin' - the performance, as a whole, was dull for Gaga and they both looked like discharge from the twat of the Coal Miner's Daughter. I dunno. You also missed Bouncey in a trashbag tutu doing some weird random Rhythm Nation impression as Tawny Kitean covering Alanis Morrissette - well, it would have been an Alanis cover had Bouncey remembered the words...

Then Pink did her flying monkey routine - AGAIN - and peed on the crowd from 30 feet in the air... Swift: T did a rousing rendition of really bad karaoke with the incomparable Stevie Nicks that just frightened me. Stevie must have voodooed T's young ass to sound like a braying mule (and thusly making Stevie sound like the Goddess she is).
Swift also won everything she was nom'd for (shockingly) again sans a drunken Kanye. I love Swifty to bits, but the awarding her for EVERYthing now is getting old. Best booger picker! Swift: T!!! Best giggly cooze! Swift: T!!! Over it. Then we had Bea Arthur back from the dead doing the pee-pee dance and praisin' Jeezus with Bon Jovi (who eerily does NOT age). Dave Matthews and crew had some kind of musical tribute to epileptic dancing...

Hooked on Fonixes does not work for JelLO - maybe she was distracted by all her squooshing going on. Roberta Flack must be paralyzed but give the granny some props-es for coming out anyway, not moving a muscle and rocking OUT a bedazzled neck brace. Awwright... And then some rap folk got muted for about 90% of their ditty... (I think Green Day was in there too somewhere... I forget.)

And Swift-T won again.

Go Grammy.

It was a hot tranny mess. (Actually, it was a tepid, unshaved, cross-dressing mess under the heat lamps at Wendy's - and that's being generous.)

Six Word Saturday

2010-01-30T10:11:00.002-06:00

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...)

2010-01-28T18:08:00.001-06:00

...to Life's horse.

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

2010-01-27T14:58:00.002-06:00

“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)

2010-01-27T13:00:00.002-06:00

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...

2010-01-26T14:23:00.001-06:00

[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.)

2010-01-26T12:44:00.001-06:00

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.

This morning, I woke up to a new pain. My fucking hips. Never had that one before. My hip joints in the front just ached. And ached doesn't even begin to cover it. It took me a good hour to get up out of bed today because it just hurt that bad to move. I tried. I cried. I laid back down. It sucks. I don't know what the deal is. EVERYthing is excruciating today. It's difficult to type. It's difficult to sit. Laying down isn't even all that much fun. Fuck the prospect of walking anywhere today. I would give just about anything to have one day - just one - just 24 hours - of no pain. And now I am having these weird ass dizzy spells and seizurey things. I fell the fuck out New Year's Night while talking to K and flopped around like a fish for a minute. I have always had these spells off and on. The first one that I recall in earnest was at my mom's back in high school. I get dizzy. I get the wah-wahs, and I go down. Come to a bit later and don't really remember much of the incident. Until just now, though, I had never had a witness to it - and K said it was a seizure. And I have had two more such incidents since them - just this year. Wonderful. What next? I am going to wake up and all my appendages will have fallen off and shot about the room, dangling like some serial killer's pinata from the celing fan. Fuckin' groovy.

I don't usually get this whiney about this shit. For the most part, I am used to it. You work around it. You work through it. You hurt. You deal. You move on. But it gets God damned exhausting. It wears you out. It wears you down.

So that's me today. Not a lot of fun. Not a lot of cute. Not exactly the most thrilling of blogs to read today. But it's today. Can't have a month of me and skip the sucky parts. Wouldn't that be a big honkin' wad of awesome if you could. "Today sucks?" "Well, no thanks, then. I think I'll pass."

And, I found out today that I was denied my disability... Ugh. I can reapply but it's been a months and months long process this time around. I have heard tale though that this is often the case. First timers almost always get denied. But the gal I have been working with has given me the information for a group that helps you with all this shit. Fun stuff.

And the kick in the nuts as to the "official" reason why I was denied. I missed a doctor's appointment. In OC-FUCKING-TOBER. Want to guess when I first heard about it? TO-mother-fucking-DAY.

Jackholes.

Fuck them.

Round two to commence.

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

2010-01-26T09:05:00.001-06:00

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!

2010-01-25T09:21:00.001-06:00

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

2010-01-25T02:48:00.008-06:00

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.

My Ten Happies

Numero Uno! (can you guess???) DANCE! Dance! Dance! In your chair. In your living room. In your head. On the bus while singin' "Sittin' on the Toilet." Just dance. Go on. Do it. Shake that healthy butt!

2. Coffee. Yes. A simple gift from the Universe - but it's my only drug now! It keeps me sane (literally).

3. Laughter. Laughter truly is the best medicine. If you can't laugh at it, you might as well just shoot it (or yourself). I have learned with my busted up, broken (and broke) ass that you can pitch a titty fit and cry or scream or holler or throw peanut butter cookies at the t.v. (because the Vikings scored a touchdown) or you can just laugh.

4. Or you can say FUCK. Saying fuck really makes me happy sometimes. It's such a great word. So applicable to so many instances. Like the disgusted, pissed off fuck: "Fuck! That doood is such a twat rocket!" Or the holy shit Annie Lennox just leapt screaming out of the radio and knocked me over the coffee table and almost made me crap my Calvins fuck: "FFUUCCKK!!!" (This happened on Wednesday, by the way - not two days after I fell down the stairs riding the garbage like I was mattress surfing in some jacked up Olympics of Trash - those Force Flex bags really ARE as tough as the commercial says! - and only a day prior to being attacked by Chaquita the Banana - it's been a fuck week.) Or there's always the yee-haw fuck as in "Fuck Yeah!" when the Saints win the playoffs. (Sorry, still riding high on that one.) Anyway, what the fuck was I talking about again...

I lost my damn self.... Oh! Happy Stuff!

5. Food. I love to cook. I love people to eat my cooking. Cooking for me is like therapy. Now if I could just train the damned dishes to clean themselves I would be happier than an overpaid hooker!!!

6. Creation. I get a little spazzy if I am not creating something. Or being a part of a creation. Think of a research monkey with DTs. That's me if there is not something coming forth from me. Be it writing or drawing or singing or painting or cooking, even. My spirit has to create and contribute to survive. It's just a part of who I am.

Wow... Who knew ten things would be this hard to come up with... Of course if I could ever stay on track, that might help..

7. I really enjoy blogging and all it entails too. I have met some amazing folks that are just whole boxes of awesome in my blogging journeys. The blog world affords us so many opportunities to meet and engage with those that we might not every be afforded the luxury of knowing otherwise. I am now able to learn and share and grow with such a diverse group of people that I truly do feel blessed to have been given the gift of being a part of their worlds - and I hope I am able to return the favour.

8. This is kind of a cheat and ties in with number three - but Silliness makes me really happy. When the Universe was squooshing me into being, it dropped me on my melon and all my good sense fell out. All that was left was this big kooky wad of goofiness. It's a great way to live. I tried do all that serious, responsible, don't-act-like-that-in-public-or-they-will-call-the-men-in-the-van-to-come-get-you rountine. But that's dull. And there are kumquats at Walmart to be serenaded. Who, if not me, is there to do that? I am a singing dorkfish.

9. Music. My world is ALWAYS filled with music. I have the attention span of an epileptic gnat, so TV and movies and such are not real high on my list of things to do - but I always have the radio on... Or the jukebox-on-crack in my head is playing - one or the other. Tonight I was chair dancing to a song and when it was over - just for a split second - I looked around like "who cut off the radio" as my roommate was in the other room... And I realized it was all in my head... But, then again, that is true for most things beyond the looking glass that is my world.

10. Benjamin. And no, Benji is not a person or a dog or even living to most of you. But he makes me beyond happy, and that's all you need to know!

Whoo! That was a doozy - wuddn't it? And now for my top ten folkes list. I'll keep this brief on the off chance that anyone is still actually here and reading this at this point.

My Ten Happy-ers
(In no particular order!)

Okay so I don't count very well. There are so many outstanding bloggers around here and I am so terrified that I am going to leave someone out. (If I missed you, I sincerely apologize! I'd add every last one of you if I could!)

And there you have day two - if you are still here... 28 to go!

Woo hoo!

(Are you as exhausted as I am, now??? Dang! What a post!!!)

A Month of Me: Day 1

2010-01-24T00:55:00.003-06:00

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.

All in all though, it's honestly not completely hopeless and dismal as I tend to make it sound. I have several job prospects. I have to call a gal on Monday to set up an interview for an Admin Assist position in some advertising something or other position. I just hope she doesn't want to see me before Thursday because I don't even have bus money at this point this week. I am also going for a position at an animal hospital just up the road that I really, REALLY want. It would be the absolute perfect job for me - so I am hopeful for that too.

While realistically, it doesn't feel any better than the last few years, I, personally, feel different. I feel positive. I find myself looking forward to what lies ahead, rather than dreading it (for the most part - it's just scary). I am sure that much of that has to do with being clean and sober and off all the drugs and booze. Even this far removed from all of that and the world it entails, I am still in the learning and adjusting process as to how to deal with things and function like the rest of the world without that crutch. It never goes away. It gets easier. But it never goes away.

But anyway - that's where I am. Paranoid about being abandoned. Hopeful for the future. Cynical about the past. Confused as all matters of hell about the conflict of emotion and circumstance that swirls about like the house that fell on my sister...

Day 1.

Can't wait to see where I am in 29 more days.

(I warned y'all I was gonna ramble - and say fuck a lot.)

Friday Follow and the Fart Smell

2010-01-23T09:21:00.001-06:00

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

2010-01-23T08:39:00.001-06:00

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

2010-01-23T00:37:00.001-06:00

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...

2010-01-22T15:43:00.002-06:00

Jay Brannan, "Man in the Mirror"

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

2010-01-22T12:15:00.002-06:00

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):

May your britches be not shitty
May you never smell like poo
May you always find a potty
When you have to go doo-doo
[...]
Haaangin' Chaaaaads... Forever flung

(About which you hear the neighbors comment, "What the hell is he singing about NOW???)

However, I think there is now some poor perfectly-coiffed Texas housewife named Muffy or Buffy or Tiffy that is at this very moment sitting in the dark with all the doors and windows locked munching Xannax like bon-bons and sucking the Scotch straight from the bottle. Poor thing. My friend had done a blog post here recently about scammers and spammers and had referenced the Monthy Python spam sketch. It was fresh in my little rabbity brain. I checked the PO box and was weeding through all the junk mail. "Spam. Spam. Spam. Spam. Spam." More junk mail. Exasperated I chunked it all in the garbage bin. "I don't like Spam!" And I heard this fluttering noise behind me. I turned around to see the aforementioned and hairsprayed Muff Buff Tiff crouched down in a huge mess of mail, staring at me like I was Hannibal Lecter in lingerie. I moved to help her, thinking perhaps she had fallen, and she jumped - startled - and fell on her butt. I was completely lost as to what the fuck her problem was. Was she ill? Was she mad? Had I had my tetnus shot in case she bit? Should I go for the eyes??? Panic on the streets of London here and shit. She scooped up all her mail to her chest, grabbed her Dooney from Target and stumbled out in her Manolo knocks-off as fast as her pulled and stretched, nipped and tucked, Yuppie Larva ass would carry her... I just stood there completely flummoxed.

And then I realized. I had said that out loud.

In the hushed silence of the empty post office I had all but shouted in a fully campy Cockney accent:

"I don't like SPAM!!!!"

Here I was thinking the poor woman was daft... Heavens know what she thought of me. She should just be glad I got my "Pants on the Ground" out of my system on my walk to the Post Office!!!

Patience and Halos

2010-01-21T12:44:00.001-06:00

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.)

2010-01-21T12:16:00.002-06:00

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

2010-01-20T22:24:00.002-06:00

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

"Deny Me and Be Doomed!"

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

"I try not to move... It's just your Ghost passing through."

(p.s. My little sister did the one on the bottom with the faces."

"We all get it in the end..."

"I'd kill a dragon for you. And I will rise... I will return...

The Phoenix from the flame...

Movin' on Up...

2010-01-19T10:32:00.002-06:00

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...

2010-01-18T14:37:00.000-06:00

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!

2010-01-18T12:39:00.001-06:00

The little shit is still here...

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

2010-01-17T22:57:00.000-06:00

RabbityThings.Com

My Week in a World of Words

2010-01-16T18:49:00.004-06:00

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

2010-01-16T09:34:00.000-06:00

Little Lady, you will be missed.

[More here]

Dear So & So...

2010-01-15T16:06:00.001-06:00

Dear Creative Block,

You can suck it.

Fuck you.

Show me your privates!!!

2010-01-14T12:23:00.001-06:00

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!

Way Back Wednesday

2010-01-13T13:59:00.000-06:00

It's amazing the things you find on your computer when you start cleaning house! It's such a trip to come across these. It feels like still from a movie about someone else's life now.

Me in the back; Sister, Layne; Family Friend, Jody; and Sister, Belle

"I hate myself for lovin' you!"

"Thanks for makin' me a Fighter!"

Rabbity Must Read: Stir-Fry Awesomeness

2010-01-13T11:01:00.000-06:00

You have got to check this one out. I have read it three times today and I am still cracking the hell up. It's brilliant!

Just because I happened to be on F*%k Ridge with *name deleted due to embarrassment* in the backseat of his Tuna Barge it doesn’t necessarily mean that I was doing anything. We could have been discussing *chemistry*. That was no reason for you and your Aqua Net Brigade to terrorize me. If you terrorized everyone he discussed *chemistry* with, you were very busy Bleacher Creatures.

Stir-Fry Awesomeness

"What I Meant to Say"

My Blessing for You in the New Decade

2010-01-13T09:05:00.000-06:00

No matter how badly last year treated you, just walk tall with your head high.

This is a brand new year!

Colour Your World!

2010-01-13T08:24:00.002-06:00

This is a fun one from the booking of faces that I came across this morning. You should do your own and leave a comment here. Will keep a running tab of links to everyone that participates! I love colour!

The questions are:

1. What's the first color you see in the morning?
2. What color are your eyes?
3. What color do you wear the most?
4. What color do you never wear?
5. What color do you wear when you want to feel sexy?
6. What color gets you the most compliments?
7. What color is your lipstick?
8. What color was your living room when you were growing up?
9. What color was your bedroom when you were growing up?
10. What color are your sheets?
11. What color was/were your favorite crayon(s) as a child?
12. What color is your car?
13. What color was your prom dress/tux?
14. What's your favorite gemstone?
15. What is your favorite flower?
16. What color makes you happiest?
17. What color depresses you?
18. What color calms you?
19. What color makes you grind your teeth?
20. What color would you like to try, but are scared to?

And my answers are:

1. What's the first color you see in the morning?
Is "Leopard Print" a colour?

2. What color are your eyes?
Auburn

3. What color do you wear the most?
Pink. I love pink. Second only to a lot of black. It's easier to match.

4. What color do you never wear?
White! I am too much of a mess to wear white!

5. What color do you wear when you want to feel sexy?
Red? Maybe? What's sexy???

6. What color gets you the most compliments?
Earthy colours. Browns, greens, oranges...

7. What color is your lipstick?
Clear!

8. What color was your living room when you were growing up?
Boring.

9. What color was your bedroom when you were growing up?
Mine was white with Royal Blue trim - but I secretly coveted my sister's - she had bright yellow trim!

10. What color are your sheets?
Red (or black). But I love my red ones.

11. What color was/were your favorite crayon(s) as a child?
Burnt Umber (I was a weird kid.)

12. What color is your car?
Invisible!

13. What color was your prom dress/tux?
Traditional colours - black and white - but one year I had a Checkerboard cumberbund - the next I had a ruffled Tux shirt (a la 70s) with No Sleeves!

14. What's your favorite gemstone?
Turquoise. Love turquoise.

15. What is your favorite flower?
Daisy! Of course!

16. What color makes you happiest?
Pink! Again! "I believe in pink!"

17. What color depresses you?
Colour never depresses me...

18. What color calms you?
Blue, maybe? I am about as familiar with "calm" as I am with "sexy."

19. What color makes you grind your teeth?
I really don't like Puice. But I think that's more because the name is so ugly...

20. What color would you like to try, but are scared to?
Neon green. It makes me nervous!

Okay! Your turn! And yes, I know it's silly and pointless but what else do you have to do? Take a break!

What colour is your world?

Rabbity Rewind

2010-01-12T15:56:00.000-06:00

I am pretty sure this is a repost, I just can't find where I posted it prior. Thought I would dust it off and let it dance with the Devil in the pale moonlight, especially in light of the passing of yet another 'decade more.'

Another Chapter

thorn crowned

bearing truths and pasts

weighty aspirations

of dreamers

fallen short

a decade more

secure in their blankets

freeing; fleeing

remaining

barbed, branded and broken

escape inevitable

but never coming

phoenix flames

slowly burning to ash

awaiting only

another chapter

"And now for something completely different..."

2010-01-12T08:04:00.002-06:00

You have a certain Brit of Bewildermint and his post on Snickers to thank for this one!

My gosh - talk about a blast from the past.

This one REALLY takes me back.