pissyrabbits

we did it.
we got the lionhead. I was worried that she was going to be a little re-re since her mother and father have the same father. but it seems thats ok in the rabbit world.
I think she just might be the reincarnation of Moufa.
she looks like Don King and is scared of nothing. Not trucks. not subways. not shrieking children. not cats. not my 150lb dog drooling on her and trying to groom her with her teeth.
when she first came in the house I was really careful with introducing her to B. I didnt want to scare her. i put her in her cage she looked at Breakfast who was (and has not yet stopped) hovering over her, kicked her bedding up at the dog and threw herself sprawled out on the floor like “whut…”
arthur promptly ate her food.
weve been toting her around in this bag and we have decided that we are going to be those annoying people who carry their dogs around everywhere. except this is a rabbit so its a fuck load cooler than a dog.
we have a few names that we have been tossing around: astor, mabel, einstein, but i think we are going to find a nice panda name.
and im going to be a little annoying with pics for a little while because shes so funny looking that we cant stop laughing at her.
which might be why shes so pissed.

i woke in the middle of the night having dreamt that i was reading the following post, but that Gormley wrote it not me.

thanks gorm!

she stopped for a moment, imagining that this was going to be a place she would frequent for many years to come. each of the people in there at that moment would at some point in the future be a friend or have some place in her life.

people busy thinking their thoughts and wearing their gaberdine pants

pondering ferrets and nyc ferret laws

swimming like fish in a bowl (the banality and cliche of this thought made her stop to think about how over-used that phrase was but made her happily remember that fish have no memory to speak of. maybe that was the key that she had been looking for)

drinking coffee and rubbing the courderoy on his thighs

blankly staring at the screen

if we all stopped moving would we fly off because we now create our own gravity with our constant busy-ness

so as a sort of retraction i want to make it clear that i dont actually hate paris.

in fact, i shockingly made a few ‘friends’ while i was there
forgot that i actually know how to speak french and that i understand french at a rate that i never imagined. (i did however get made fun of for my “country accent”, which is from southern provincial France)

fell into a mad and desperate love with the exceedingly efficient paris metro,
they have clocks showing how long not only until the next train but the train after that!
and?!?
they are accurate.
this drove me into a spiraling depression upon my return to the 2/3 train.
i can save this for another post all together but i briefly want to say that our transit system sucks compared to that one. and at the risk of turning the comment section into a fucking transit workers union pissed off message board i will refrain from saying why our system sucks.
blah blah blah they carry almost the same amount of passengers, they were built around the same time (actually paris’ is a little bit older than ours) and its also a little cheaper.
it doesnt run 24 hours like ours but i dont take the subway after 11 anyway because just the thought of getting into a train station at night and seeing the garbage barge sends me into autistic fits.
so i heart the metro and threatened to only ride the new L train from now on.

in paris I almost got to do my famous “drunken tee shirt swap/exchange” with a super hot parisian bartender (it was a mouse/robot with a machine gun that she had pre-tailored into a strapless top= yikes!)

i almost got killed

i bought gorgeous new fabrics with which to make the few prezzies i was charged with making.

we almost came home with a lionhead rabbit.

i hate paris

i hate the louvre

i soooooo hate the Mona Lisa

i almost had to kick a 300 pound black guys ass tonight.

after i shoved him

can i come home now?

I am writing a post about this.

me and le fille are headed out of this godforsaken tundra on thursday.

the streets of paree, lisbon and porto have not seen the likes of the hatred i will bring.

hatred for having to apologize for the united states

hatred for fat tourists wearing white sneakers

hatred for customs and security not allowing me to bring the incredibly cute toiletries bag that was given to me as a gift because i am forced to use the ever so chic ONE QUART ZIP LOCK BAG…

pure, seething hatred for the fucking microchip in my new passport

though i myself am french, i will probably come back hating them too.

they are still people and if there is anything i hate…its people.

Gormley, you would be proud of the obsessive maps that i made. and since im a dorkasaurus, i started to create some of my own “pin icons”.

as peter said…”yeah. they dont have any pins to indicate ‘pussy here’“

1. Staring at a photo (from 1996 it turns out after some research) of friends, and looking around to see the same girls still with me and more beautiful.


2. Sharing champagne with friends new and old in a happy home.


3. The breathtaking filet au poivre.


4. Landry’s uncanny ability to pick the only strip club FILLED with gay boys leering at girls dancing atop a mirrored bar at 2am.