badrabbyt

first... yes, i'm aware that the picture of my mom in the last post is teeny tiny. it's actually a large file, and i've no idea why it's so small. but if you go into the photo album over yonder, called 'these are the daves i know (i know i know)', there's a much embiggened version. or, you know, you could just click here. and use it for your wallpaper or something.

but, if my mom asks, you never saw it. got it? you know nothing. moving on...

well. so, i visted my parents. and i saw some weird things. and i was barked at almost constantly by an evil rat dog. i have pictures, but not in a post-able state. so, more on that later. in general, my parents are a bit... odd. i think they're lonely out there on their unimproved roadway. they kept asking if i would come back and visit again. like we're a real family and all. it's very confusing. i need to think.

so! instead of thrilling you with a bajillion pictures of trees and dogs, i've decided to have a look at the stuff y'all google to get here. g man loves these posts, and since i need a favor later, i'm prepared to indulge the man.

without further ado... how some of you get here, in order of greatness:

stegosarus: spelled wrong. i'm not a stego-anything. leggo my eggo. it's kind of amazing to me that searches on dinosaurs get people to my homepage. and all because of this. man, i can blame a lot of things on vernal, utah.

badrabbyt: hey! that's me! and i know this is in the top 5 because of moi and her electronic gadget issues. hi, moi! see you soon!

expired nyquil: man, i will never live this down. and, as i recall, my post about drinking expired nyquil was a little boring. and drinking said expired nyquil was far from boring. which reminds me... must go buy moi a copy of that one book.

dr tran: seriously? i think i'm honored. i love dr tran! it's a cartoon, if you're not following events as they unfold. i'd link to it, but i'm such a lazy whore tonight...

dr theopolis: now i know i'm honored. i don't care if you were looking for the band (oh man, do i have a girl woody for those guys) or the buck rodgers character. either way, i'm all atwitter. and whoever searched for that... we should maybe hang out sometime and compare pocket protectors.

clydesdale butt: this is just silly. but it does remind me... while i was out at my parents' homestead, i saw a horse-drawn carriage outside a little convienience store. the horsies in question were clydesdales. and i'm so sorry to disappoint, but i have no pictures of horse's ass around here. yes, i'm aware of all the jokes i could wring out of that statement, but i choose to take the higher ground, for once. we only have the one capt clydesdale around here, and i'm not posting pictures of his keister. and i don't want to receive any. get me, capt?... i drifted there. who the hell googles for horse ass? hm. maybe i dated that guy.

kirsten lincoln: i have to say, this kind of freaked me out. when i was in grade school (mel gauer, yo), kirsten lincoln was my best friend. we kept in touch up through high school, even though we had both moved a few times. she ended up in louisiana - i believe the lake charles area. anyway, if you know here? or you are her? have her stop by or email me. i really miss her, and i'd love to get in touch with her again.

fernando enter exit: the album is enter to exit, and it's one of my favorites. great lyrics. it's over there, in the music area. love that guy.

floatsam: it seems that every month, a variation on this search leads someone here. i think i used the word once or twice. but i'm impressed. unless, of course... you're looking for pictures of a guy named sam, floating. then, i got nothin' for ya.

girl afraid of gnome tara banks: i don't know what this means, but those must be some nice drugs you're on. tara banks is a model, right? i just googled her. she looks vaguely familiar. i have no idea what her stance is on gnome-related issues. we're not close like that. and really... who the hell is afraid of gnomes? i mean, okay. i saw house. and you know what? those are trolls, man. not gnomes. gnomes are nice and silly. trolls will rip your face off. girl, be afraid of trolls, not gnomes. and leave tara banks out of this.

shane cox: wow... when i was in grade school (again, google and my grade school years - who woulda thunk it?) i kinda had a boyfriend, and his name was shane cox. he had brownish blonde hair, i think. he had a bad bowlcut. i think he ate his own boogers. needless to say, it was a doomed relationship. hope that helps.

space-: ... the final frontier? to boldly go where no man has gone before? i mean, that's pretty vague. can you rephrase the question? can i buy a vowell?

"the only bush i trust is my own": oh, that's a book. and it's not bad. get thee to a bookstore. or amazon. whatever. i do kinda want one of those shirts.

abe vigoda is still alive: who knew this was such a pressing issue? i'll throw up a direct link to that. but for now, go here. check as necessary.

anchorage alaska holy trinity receptionist temp: um... try the want ads. but i think they'd want someone permanent. how fast do you type?

auntie's pussy: ... wha? just because i once saw a stripper that looked exactly like my aunt jenny, i'm gonna get weirdos wanting to see an aunt's nether regions? this had better not be the crush...

bad girls cross stitch margaret cho: go to her website. there's a link. although it may be a latch hook kit. not kidding around, man.

bang my ass: pardon? do i know you? and am i to bang your ass, or are you to bang mine? will there be marks? i'm kinda confused (yes, i know this is probably a porn hunt. shush up back there).

brazziers for sale pictures: words do not describe the weird feelings this evokes in me. i... uh... crap. go to ebay or something. and stay away from my underwear drawer.

that's all i got for you. keep googling, and thanks for stopping by.

 

... and it is gleeful.

jesus. i have never been more thankful to be standing at baggage claim.

so... my plane leaves in nine hours or so. i've decided not to post while i'm at my parents' house, largely because being around them seems to suck the humor right outta me. although, i have to say i haven't had much humor lately. i am sorry, internets. i know you depend on me for casual mentions of my underwear, blowjobs, and random bits of stalking. along with my occasional moments of clarity. but since my last final, i haven't been sleeping well, and i've just been... out of sorts. that's what i'm calling it.

the rabbyt is out-of-sorts. which makes me wonder... where can one get new sorts? sorry, that was a bad joke. see? i don't know where i left my mirth. if you see it... tell it to come home. i miss it so.

anyway...

yeah, i'm going to visit my parents. and i realize that most people are close to their parents. they're the ones that gave you life, and helped shape the person you've become. but, for me? i'm not real close to my folks. i haven't seen my mom since christmas 2001, and my dad since march or so of 2001. i don't hate them. i just... i'm not real tight with them, is all.

i think that's largely because my folks are the sort of people that should not have children. in my opinion, i think that, if you're going to breed, you should (almost) always put your children first. having kids should be a big responsibility, and not every parent out there treats it as such. my mom told me at a youngish age that, if she believed in abortion, she would have tried to have one when she got pregnant with me. think about that for a minute. what kind of person tells their kid that they didn't want him/ her? she continued to say that she was glad she had me, and that my dad really wanted a boy. that's nice. i came this close to being named william (if you haven't noticed the pictures, i'm a girl). sexy, no? so, my mom. smokes an assload of pot. has a hard time remembering what year i was born. owns a shotgun. lets her dogs eat ice cream out of the same spoon she's using. is, in general, a good person that maybe shoulda not had kids.

my dad, when i was young, made no bones about it - he was too young to be having kids when i came along. he was, um... 20, i think. my mom was 24. he quit school and got a job to support his family. he's a really smart guy, and college woulda done great things to his brain, i think. so, yeah - it's my fault he's had such a diverse work history. and it has nothing to do with his addiction to coke when i was in junior high. or his general affection for any drug that can alter his reality.

you know, i'm staring at the above paragraph, and i'm trying really hard to think of nice things to say about my dad. i know i get my sense of humor from him. and i'm also a nerdy, braniac sort. but... i just keep thinking about all the bad things he's done. things that, if he weren't a dad, maybe wouldn't be so bad. like doing so much coke that he was committed to a nuthouse for a brief period. like being arrested several times for public drunkeness. like saying mean things when he's upset, purely because he knows it will hurt the person he's talking to.

the more i think about my dad, the angrier i'm getting. so... let's just say that i take issue with how my dad lives his life. there are so many negative things coming to mind, i'm having a hard time thinking of the positive. and there has to be some positive. right?

so, my parents. i was treated less like their child, and more like a lodger that never paid her share. which, i think, had made me this independent sort of person. which isn't bad. it's good to be self-reliant. but my dad always made it clear that only losers asked for help. so, it's difficult for me to admit that i can't do everything, all the time. and anytime someone compliments me, it either makes me angry or it makes me cry. i've done better in the last few years, but jesus... i haven't lived with my folks in 12 years, and i still feel the influences.

maybe i do need to move to alaska. maybe i'm still too close.

other random bits about my folks: my dad threatened to disown me if i ever told the authorities that they sold pot. we usually moved in the middle of the night, to skip rent or avoid some drug guy my dad owed money to. my friends thought my folks were cool, because they had no interest in what i was doing. i could have been making bombs in my room, and they would not have cared. i'm still not sure if my mom's aware that i've had cancer. because she just kinda blew it off, like it was a cold.

argh. i need to stop now. they deserve to live out in the middle of nowhere, and i'm not sure why i agreed to this. maybe seeing them will remind me that they're good people, and there are good memories back there.

anyway, i'll try to be funnier when i get back in a few days. thanks for stopping by. and please leave some comments. i could use the love, y'all.

thanks.

remember this guy?

yeah. "bueller... bueller... bueller".

HE JUST TURNED 45. i mean, not just this second, but today.

... 

how did we get so freaking old? ferris bueller is goddamn 45?

where's my walker?

so... i bought the newer gym class heroes cd a while back, and i have that one song stuck in my head. i was humming it all last night. and singing bits of it in the car. because i'm convinced that, while i do not have a crappy voice, it is not stellar. i had a roommate in college who said my singing voice was tre crappe. with an accent. that's why i love drag queens; they're brutally honest.

and that last post, down there? if you feel that it speaks to you, then it's for you. if you're not getting anything out of it, it wasn't directed at you. and that's almost all i'm prepared to say about that. other than, there are times when even people used to being kicked in the shins need to be requited. and no one deserves to be ignored.

mooooving on...

i've been scattered and absent as of late. which i'm totally chalking up to loads of self-induced stress. there was stress about finals - again, moi knew exactly when my tests were, and knew exactly what to say, in french - stress about seeing my parents (in roughly 59 hours, but who's counting?), stress about the everyday minutiae that consists of my life. stressed about the yarn basket taking over, and exactly why my cat has such foul gas. i mean, it's not like she eats saurkraut, yo. i think i was stressed about my stress level, which is purely idiotic. that's like, uh... letting your whiteheads get blackheads. gross. and weird.

but now, finals are done, and i have roughly two weeks to do little but knit and read. and go do some stuff. and visit my parents. and feed the cat broccoli, because as bad as her gas is, i think it would be really funny if it got worse while i was gone. and even funnier if it was horrific when moi shows up.

yup. tolstoy and poop jokes. that's me in a nutshell.

and directly after my last test, on monday? cecil met me at ye local massive movie haus, and we watched host. which was badass! mind you, i love a good monster movie. and i love the godzilla movies. not the crappe remake from 1998, with matthew broderick. the old ones, with the guys in rubber suits. host was the old godzilla movies on steroids and CGI. oh, it was awesome. i may have to own it. i may also have to get off my ass and own more of the old godzilla movies, too. anyway...

tuesday, z and i watched this quite lame movie (hey, movies allow me to knit and be semi-social - that's why i watch them) called the protector. i don't know why she rented this thing, but it showed up on the coffee table a few days ago. something about laying the smack down because bad people stole this dude's elephant. no lie. all that kung fu over an elephant. i'm just grateful there was no elephant wang shots in this. i can still see that thing.

christ. oh, and we watched casino royale. i liked it. but then again, i'm a james bond fan. and cecil - sean connery will always be the greatest. squattish squirrels, yo.

and now, the visuals:

apparently, i'm not the most important rabbyt in my county. who knew? this guy is local, and they're bringing them back from near extinction. i think. he's just a cutie. i wanna pinch him.

z and i went shopping for bathing suits. which is something i hope to avoid for the next 90 or so years. christ. but before we had our collective self-esteem thrown in the gutter and trampled by the masses, we tried on hats. at least, i think that's what we were doing. that could just be a duck's ass on her head.

the last time i went to clyde's in the hollywood area, we saw this band called moment's notice. they were great, and not just because they did this phenomenal cover of 'let's get it on.' YMCrae and i had a running argument about whether or not the drummer was blind - he wasn't, he was just counting time in his head. and this was the only thing i could take a picture of. beyond that candle is a great cover band. really.

i saw this at a thrift store, and all i could think was, 'keep your hands off my organ'. heh - organ. i said organ. i may be 12 or something.

same thrit store. it seems so weird, to see the little rascals on a water glass at a secondhand shop.

and this... this was just wrong, and i was too sleep-deprived at the time to think otherwise. that's a pig puppet. the business end - you know, where you stick your hand (god, why am i thinking of the word fisting when i type that? it's not right. maybe i need to take up drinking) - is viewable to all and sundry. it seems so... i don't know. tawdry? obscene? i had to walk away.

sign in a public restroom. giving instructions on how to lock a door. that automatically locks once you close it anyway.

no smarmy response to this - i just love that even stick figures can have high-voltage pit stink. or is he having stomach issues? it's hard to tell, really.

capt clydesdale's next-door neighbor. i was originally going to make some crack about his growing his hair out, and how it has now completely taken over. but, i decided against it.

imprisoned for olfactory crimes against humanity. i think of thin lizzy every time i see this picture.

she keeps staring at me.

and by the way - there seems to be some discussion about my stripper song from a few posts back. i'm just not into def leppard. i still like you if you're into them. so, can it, people.

and... thanks for stopping by. pet a puppy.

... you're a complete jackass. but then, you could also be the bagel to my cream cheese. i don't really know; i always seem to trip over my own brain whenever you're around. and when i'm within earshot of you, nothing brilliant or fabulous comes out of my mouth. and for all you know, i'm a complete tool. or, i could be the jelly to your peanut butter. we may never know. because i'm retarded when it comes to you, and it must make me look creepy or desperate. i'm neither; i find the idea of you fascinating, and i'd like to know more.

i'm starting to think, though, that i'll never get that chance. which isn't really okay, because we're both missing out. but right now, i don't know how to remedy that.

there's something amazing about the simplicity of didactic communication. i'm wanting that spark, and you're the flint. i'm done with analogies for right now. take care. i think fondly of you, dear.

quickie, just so you're aware. i have one last final to cram for, so i don't have time to use my normal parlance to make an odd story hilarious...

i have pictures, but i realize that maybe i need a release form? or maybe - capt clydesdale? when you're well enough to venture away from the potty, ask you sister if it's okay for me to post pictures that she's in. they're tiny, so she's not real recognizable. but... maybe i should start asking these things. and the title refers to the lack of cool air where i work. it's too hot in here, and i have a fan blowing directly on me.

and, uh... dudes. i did something really idiotic about four hours ago. or i did something really brilliant. and i can't talk about it just yet. so, uh... lemme tell you another story.

it's great, because it's true, and slightly embarssing.

so, st patrick's day was saturday, as you all know. i'm not going to get into my issues with it, like i did last year. i'm just going to grow the hell up and hang out with friends. the capt was felled by what i'm calling 'the disease of ninjas in the intestinal tract'. so, i hung out with cecil and a lady friend. it would appear that cecil showed the lady friend my little bloggy bits here (which sounds dirty, and i sorta mean it to). she was all atwitter to meet me, telling cecil i was cute and funny. so, i'm feeling a bit like a rock star. which is not a horrible feeling, but it is weird. i mean, i'm that girl in the back row of the movie house, knitting, often solo. i'm that girl that shows up by herself, and you sorta wonder if she has any friends. so, it's... odd. but okay, i can roll with this.

after two sips of some alocoholic beverage, she tells me i'm damn sexy. and puts her hand on my knee.

DISCLAIMER: i am not a lesbian. i don't swing that way. cecil has a better chance of seeing me in a compromising position without my knickers than this lass.

moving on...

hand on knee. me wearing skirt and feeling uncomfortable. cecil making lame 'can i watch?' joke. me excusing myself to the loo. where i sit on the commode and think am i phobic? or is she crossing a line? because i'm so damaged on some days (yes, just some days - hush, you) i can't tell what's what. when i come out to wash my hands, she's there. she's probably reading this. hi crazy bitch! anyway, she's standing there. i go to the sink, and she actually says 'let's ditch the dick and have some fun'. and i almost laugh. this is the kind of thing that would be really funny if, say, YMCrae said it. but, i look at her, and she's looking pretty serious. i say something about my rule being you leave with the person what brung you, and i leave the bathroom. and i intentionally get lost in the crowd. after about five songs by the band, i am found and drug back to lady crazy, where i intentionally get lost again. it's like a retarded cat and mouse game, and i don't really get a chance to enjoy the good stuff coming from the stage. which is probably okay, because i've heard both bands before.

oh, and on the way home? with the three of us in the same car? she asks for my phone number. but not before she suggests we all go back to her place for a 'nightcap'. that word alone makes me shiver. ugh ugh ugh.

so, i went out on st patrick's day and was hit on by a gal. and it wasn't cute or hot, but rather slimy and dirty. whoopsie.

i guess all those internet quizzes are the gospel truth. now, where's my laser dagger?

You Are 61% Sexy

Your Sex Appeal Is: Extremely High You're very sexy. You just have that certain something that takes over a room. You know how to attract, entice, and keep whoever you want. You are truly appealing.

in lieu of an actual post, i took some random surveys. because i've been up since noon wednesday (it's creeping up on 4 a.m. as i type this), my brain is turning to mush.

my lab final went well, thanks for asking. why is moi the only one that actually pays attention to my schedule? oh, right... i offered to buy her porn. whoopsie.

Your Superhero Profile

Your Superhero Name is The Comet Fox Your Superpower is Waking Through Walls Your Weakness is Ice Your Weapon is Your Laser Dagger Your Mode of Transportation is Elephant

i walk through walls... and ride an elephant? what?

wait - does that say laser dagger? i'm a freaky ninja!

Your Boobies' Names Are...

Breastasaurus

oh, christ... that's making me laugh. and for some reason, it reminds me of something i said about jesus earlier. it was, in true badrabbyt fashion, horrible. but we all know i'm already going to hell. something about jesus being on myspace, and he gets really pissed of if he's not in your top eight. goddamn primadonna...

Your Quirk Factor: 68%

You're so quirky, it's hard for you to tell the difference between quirky and normal. No doubt about it, there's little about you that's "normal" or "average."

heh... i used to draw faces on my fingers. you know, for fun. i'm a little suprised my quick factor is so low. i though i'd get up in the 80's, for sure.

yes... i'll give y'all a link to this site. calm down; have a cookie.

which reminds me (see? it's a good idea i'm not doing a real post) - i'm nearly done with my other brown sock. you know, the pair i started last year? and never got around to the second sock? almost there. which is good - i have a few pairs of socks planned. they're very portable - i take them to work and school. people are bemused by my sock making. someone actually asked me if i knew they sold socks by the bag at wal-mart. go screw yourself.

Your Values Profile

Loyalty: You don't really value loyalty. In your opinion, friendship should be earned. If you don't agree with someone, it doesn't matter how close you are. You'll let them (and everyone else know) exactly what you think. Honesty: You value honesty a fair amount. You're honest when you can be, but you aren't a stickler for it. If a little white lie will make a situation more comfortable, you'll go for it. In the end, you mostly care about "situational integrity." Generosity: You don't really value generosity. Your needs always come first, no matter what. And you'll possibly help someone else out... But only if it helps you in return. Humility: You value humility highly. You have the self-confidence to be happy with who you are. And you don't need to seek praise to make yourself feel better. You're very modest, and you're keep the drama factor low. Tolerance: You value tolerance highly. Not only do you enjoy the company of those very different from you... You do all that you can to seek it out interesting and unique friends. You think there are many truths in life, and you're open to many of them.

ouch. i'm kinda not saint-like. well, my condo in hell is paid for. okay, one more of these...

Your Stripper Song Is

Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard "Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on Livin' like a lover with a radar phone Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp Demolition woman, can I be your man?" Break out the baby oil, you rock it old school.

oh, come on. def leppard? are y'all high?

i need a nap. thanks for stopping by.

just real quick-like... i have my first final in about, uh, 17 hours or so. gonna go do some last-minute studying on that. i feel really confident about doing well, and that makes me nervous. i shouldn't be so cocky. yeah, i've been rocking the tests and quizzes, but still... anyway. the term is winding down. hurrah. someone slap me.

moi's birthday is on friday. if you know her... she asked for porn. get shopping.

i leave for california next friday. i'm not thrilled, but i don't have time to get into it just now.

thanks for stopping by. that top is a good color for you.

this is the deal. i normally know what i'm going to be doing (roughly) about 6-9 months out. for example, this time last year? i knew i was headed back to school in the fall. and i had a list of other random things to accomplish, some of which i've actually thought about in the last year. but right now? i have no idea where i'll be or what i'll be doing (or what shoes i'll be wearing) when i get there. i strongly dislike this feeling of limbo. it's also the primary reason i couldn't hack it as a temp worker. i never really knew when i was going to get to work, so things like budgeting were damn near impossible (let's not talk about the lying whore i was dating, that drank his way through more than two paychecks of mine. grrr).

but, now that i've officially applied for the radiology program - and by official, i mean the application was sent ages ago, but now i've requested transcripts from ever college i've ever attended and mother-of-god that was a biggish list - and i'm working on the financial aid crap (i'm behind, okay? there's only one of me, and school takes up a large amount of my time. that, and my social life), it's sinking in that i don't really know where i'm going. to add to that vague stress, i had a partial conversation with z where she said she wants to move to california as soon as she has custody of both kids.

... i live in her house. i can't afford her mortgage and go back to school full-time. i don't think i can afford an apartment and go to school full-time...

this is not good. i have plan b, and i'm so lucky to have plan b. and a plan c, although it involves cecil's couch, and people i am not prepared for that. my cat requires certain things, and i'm not about to subject cecil to my cat's gas on a 24/7 basis. plan b involves the hamptons, because zima really likes me in that special sort of way. and as i said, plan c is for cecil, and... i think it was suggested purely because he knows i am not that girl. i require my own damn room, and frequent showers that involve hot water. and a bathroom that does NOT have a mystery smell. besides, weird things have happened on his couch. i may have to get a double tetanus. and sleep in a haz-mat suit.

however, there are a lot of 'ifs' involved. if i get into the program, if she gets both kids, if her ex goes to jail and she can leave the state (visitation laws are weird, is all i'm saying). and the if she hadn't considered - if z dog won't resent her for all eternity. after listening to her talk about what's best (and, to be honest, this is what's best for her), i asked her what z dog thought about moving, you know, a few months before high school starts. and then she just kind of stopped and looked at me. because, dudes... i was forced to move about five days before high school started, and i resented my parents for it. they knew for months that we were probably going to move, and i found out in august. we had to move because my dad was a cokehead, and they owed money to his dealer, and... uh... some other stuff. i've always had a hard time making friends, and that kinda helped me be a social outcast for a good chunk of high school. we moved to a town where all these kids went to the same grade school/ junior high, and they all knew each other. except me. and a few days later, a girl named sara. we were freaks, i tell you.

anyway, i asked how z dog felt about moving, now that he's just starting to relax and make friends. he still complains that he has no social life, and he's lived here for a year and change. she just looked at me, and i'm pretty sure she hadn't gotten that far. so, as mean as that sounds, i may not have to move down the street, because she may not be moving any time soon. i don't want her to go, but more than that? i don't want z dog to have all the weird social issues i have, and moving yet again will help him along that garden path. i can already see some of the awkwardness in his personality. unlike me, he's not geared toward solo activities. why else am i such a voracious reader/ studyier/ knitter/ blogger? he has no attention span, so it's not like i can unplug the telly and hand him a book. he can just barely read, people.

... there are issues. let's just leave it there.

and going back to school full-time is not for certain, either. although, if i don't get into the program, i have a plan b there, as well. i have another degree/ program i can probably finish in a year, before re-applying. but i know i'm going back, for more than what i'm doing right now. and i've decided i'm no longer going to work graveyard. as soon as possible - meaning when a spot opens up - i'm going to work swing shift. maybe. i really loathe the idea of day shift, because those people? they're the pod people, i kid you not. but since school will most likely happen in the mornings, i don't have to worry about that.

anyway, my point is - i'm in kind of a holding pattern. i'm not sure what's going to happen. i know it will all work out in the end, but i'm still nervous. which means i have gas, but whatever.

and, to change topics rapid-fire... i was cleaning up the area i keep my cd's in. the cat was very nervous, which means she had gas. she was nervous because the cd's were on the bed during her naptime.

i know she's thinking about how much catnip and kibble i could have bought instead of these shiny discs.

except for those hip hop albums. she really loves those.

thanks for stopping by.