Monday, January 31, 2005


If ANYONE, repeat ANYONE, EVER gets me this for ANY occassion EVER (!) I will HUNT your ass down and I...will...CUT...YOU.

Thank you for your attention in these matters.

Sunday, January 30, 2005

The Costs of Doing Business with The Foxxe.

Ok. We need to talk.

The Foxxe's reaction to my op-ed piece on his manse was, I think, misguided. Let me refresh your memories...

I wrote a delightful satirical piece on Dan's Mansion, and included some of his most fervent fans. Sure, I took the liberty of doing so in a light-hearted "Medieval" tongue, but what the heck? He wanted to keep the drawbridge up all the time!

his response?

"Oh, for shame! And oh how the mighty have fallen. Once the Bunny roamed the frozen wastes of the Greater Quincy area and neither rain nor sleet nor snow would keep him from his appointed rounds. Now he quivers in fear at the thought of a mere four inches of snow.The Land of Pleasant Living has made you soft and weak, oh fretful Bunny. You must be... corrected."

Soft and weak? SOFT AND WEAK?


My dear friend Dan, may I be the first to assure you I am neither soft nor weak. My reluctance to sojurn into the snowy day was not for want to do so, nor was it 'fear' of the snow. Unfortunately, you seem to forget the utter lack of quality snow response is here; they have none. Four inches to them shuts things down. (Case in point: it snowed two inches yesterday, and half the town closed mid-day.) They don't know how to deal with it. And DC, believe it or not, is actually worse. (TMS, Whisky, Josh, back me up here.)

As far as "correcting me", well my friend, the Rockstar sayeth...

...bring it on, bitch.

(See you next week! I am ALL sorts of fired up.)

(For those not in the know, The Foxxe is comin' to town next weekend. Word.)

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

A Commentary on "A Man's Home."

The Foxxe wishes a manse akin to this. Who can blame him? I would love it, and I don't really like large abodes. In this manner, I find my opinions commensurate with TSF.

From there out, we differ. Whereas Dan feels he would comport himself in a regal, medieval manner towards those who visited (denying all that refuse to address him in a particular lexicon), methinks the interactions would be more like this...

Dan's Mighty Mighty Castle, Part I (...or, the Princess approaches)

Heather approaches the upraised drawbridge, scans it over for a moment, and calls to Dan.

Heather: Dan! I'm here. Open up.
Dan: Callst me Lord of the Manor, and I shalst lettith you in, fair maiden!
H: Ha ha. Open the fucking door.
D: Whoist thinketh thine isethed? Darest you speaketh to me in sucheth a manor(eth)?
H: No, me thinketh if you don'teth open thine friggin' doorst, thy will findeth my foot in thine ass.
D: A parlay it is then! Knave! Openth the gate!

Dan's Mighty Mighty Castle, Part II (...or, rock you like a Bunnycane.)

I apporach the castle (all the while, learning how to spell "approach,") and call to Dan.

Adam: Dan-o! You magnificant bastard! Open up!
Dan: Hark! Doeth mine ears tell me truly? Is thateth the Bunnyethest?
A: Yep. Open up.
D: I can'st doeth thateth, my goodly friendst. Thine are awarest of the rules of thiseth fine castle?
A: (no response)
D: Speaketh, goodly sir!
A: (no response)

Dan looks over the edge of the wall, and sees me sitting on the ground drinking a High Life from the case I brought, flipping him the bird.

D: A parlay it is, then! Knave! Openeth the gate!

Dan's Mighty Mighty Castle, Part III (...or, gee, I hope it doesn't stain!)

Snuggles drives up in his pickup truck. Parking out front, he unloads the portable meat smoker from the bed. Grabbing his porta-cooler, he calls to Dan.

Snuggles: Dan! Open up! I'm eatin' corn!
Dan: Willsteth keepeth thine voice downeth? Mine neighbors areth nosy!
Dan: Knave! Openeth the gate!
Snuggles: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Oh, shit(eth)! Sorry, Dan, I got some
Dan: Cometh in, good sir, and leaveth some of the joy and pork ribs you bringst with you!
Snuggles: WHOOOP! WHOOOP! BOOBIES! Here, have a rib.
Dan: Methinks theseth are the finest ribs thou hast hadeth since morns goneth by!
Snuggles: Are you ok, Dan? Are you RETAHDED or somethin'? When's the game on?
Dan: Goodly friendeth, kindly useth mine "Bounty" brand paper towelseth, as thine are getting rib bits on myst coucheth.
Snuggles: You got the remote? The Sox are on.
Dan: Sigh(eth)(est).

Yeah, that seems much more like it. Good luck, Dan. And a bit of advice; put plastic over the really classy at your house.

Monday, January 24, 2005

Into the breach once more...

Howdy, monkeys.

How you been?

Since I last wrote, many interesting thinks have crossed my stars. Many indeed. Of note...

1. I am amidst a 'career change' at the moment.
2. The Pats are returning to their 3rd Super Bowl in four years in a couple of weeks.
3. I haven't summoned up the courage to fight my non-existant heroin addiction.
4. I have a tête-à-tête over raw fish coming up with a most delightful unofficial singer.
5. I still have two (count 'em, two) testicles.
6. I'm catching a fair amount of flack over my lack of entries.

My apologies to all. It's been a VERY interesting 2005 thus far, and if these first few weeks are plotting any kind of a graph for the rest of the year, I submit the following odds for your considerations.

Odds & Event


Rampant, drunk jackaloupe holds me at gunpoint while humping
my leg and calling me "Tess."


Inexplicably, NASA calls me asking for advice on how to properly
perform a competent azimuth calibration while riding a train. Even
more inexplicably, I happen to know the answer.


One of you will receive a call from me seeing if you know the whereabouts of either my dignity, my kidneys, or my autographed picture of the cast from Gilligan's Island. These odds include the likelihood of their having run off together.


I trick a beautful woman into dating me, and she somehow overlooks my proclivity for being an utter jackass.


At some point she (willingly) gives it up for the home team (ooh! bet on this one! You'll win $34.6 billion dollars for each dollar you bet! Foxxe, this can pay for the bar we always wanted. Can you say "black and ham"?)


I will conquer the whole "light without heat" argument, and go on to win the Nobel Peace Prize for Pie Eating.


Hollywood digititizes my likeness and re-masters an episode of Knight Rider to include me driving next to Kit in the Trans-Am from Smokey and the Bandit. I would have a catch phrase like, "Hey, muffins, drop that hat!", or, "Smellin' fine, baby, what's your face?"


I survive to turn 35.

yep, sure is going to be interesting.