Let Sleeping Rabbits Lie

I want to go to bed, but I hate to interrupt Tycho the giant rabbit as he peacefully slumbers on the FAO Schwartz fake bear skin rug under the coffee table.



Gosh darn it, isn't he the cutest enormous white bunny you've ever seen?* Subsequently, he bonded with the rug by spastically licking its ear. Either that or he was eating for crumbs.



This is what happens when Husband is out of town.
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*It seems that the two videos of Tycho that took forever to upload are not appearing here, which is seriously pissing me off. Oh videos, where are you? Why Blogger must you torment me by claiming that you uploaded the files of my adorable pet rabbit and then refusing to let other people see him as he has a bunny dream and then tongues the ear off a fake bear rug? Evil, evil service.

2 Years of CUSS!

With all the excitement that is going on these days with the book, applying to writing programs, and the imminent arrival of my family for Brother-in-Law's nuptials, I nearly forgot that today is the two year anniversary of the Campaign for Unshaved Snatch (CUSS) & Other Rants. Two years ago today, I was a frustrated, dissatisfied do-gooder on the way to meet another do-gooder friend for French onion soup. My day had been particularly distressing, as was often the case with my former career, and I found myself sitting on the subway seething over an ad for bikini waxing. Moments later, I formulated a plan: instead of stabbing people, I needed a blog to vent, and it needed a catchy title. Somehow the whole CUSS acronym popped into my feral mind and I knew that I found a way to salvation.

I disembarked from the subway and ran to tell my friend about it. The bar we were meeting at gave crayons to patrons (how perfect is that?) and I drew a little diagram on my placemat outlining the CUSS credo. When I got home a few hours later, I posted my very first blog entry.

Since then, I've loosened my no-waxed/shaved-snatch stance a bit because I met so many awesome women who explained to me why they preferred trimming, waxing, or shaving their cooters. None of them did it because some cretins think that pubic hair automatically makes women dirty or smelly, so who the hell was I to tell them how to deal with their boxes? Understanding other people - this is what I consider progress. I'm glad that CUSS opened me up to new ideas, not only about landing strips, but on a wide spread (heh heh) range of topics. It led me to meet so many awesome people who I am proud to call friends.

Now I'm getting all choked up. The truth is that I'd probably blog whether people read my blog or not because I discovered that I find writing to be fun and therapeutic. However, it would be far less meaningful if it wasn't for the select segment of the blogging community in which I've become a part. Here's to the next two years.

I'm Gonna Be Rich!

I'm sitting in a workshop on how to monetize your blog. Advice I received thus far is to use key words that will lead lots of people to my site (e.g. - "Jewish pussy"), then cleverly blend paid links and ads into my site. If I follow this advice, I will become a wealthy blogger and a fine pillar of the porn industry. How exciting is that?

On top of that, some people who sat at my table for lunch tried to convince me to do affiliate selling. That means when I complain about Brazilian waxes, readers will be able to click on ads for home snatch wax kits or pubic hair dye! Isn't that awesome!

The downside is that the blog pimping session led me to realize that Blogger templates are motherfucking (see? I'm using a key word! If only I had a paid link to people who fuck mothers, I'd make $1!) impossible to customize, so unless I switch to another format, we'll more or less be keeping the pepto pink. So it goes.

Given my options, I will leave the moneymaking to Husband. He likes that shit anyway. My life is definitely too hairy for all that. Ha ha.

Saying What I Mean, Not What It Sounds Like

In a discussion about the various search terms that lead people to our blogs, I loudly announced, "I get a lot of young pussy."

And I wonder why I "project" radical lesbian? Oy.

On a slightly related note, I learned from The Branding Consultant that I need a short tag line for my blog. I pondered "Cunts, Whores, Bitches, Complaints," but thought maybe that was both too vague and too clear. Karrie suggested "Life is getting hairy." I love it. It's perfect timing, too, as I hope to attend a session on pimping my blog template later this morning. Hopefully, some good changes (including my new exciting tag line, which I am altering slightly to "Because life is hairy") are ahead.

Help is on the Way

I'm taking a few moments from my busy day at Bugaboo Times to address the issues that non-Blogger users are experiencing when trying to leave comments here at CUSS. Not that I want to compare my blog migration experience to the Cherokee Trail of Tears (because that is extremely offensive), but I'm going to do it anyway. Unlike the Cherokees, I was not always happy with my old Blogger property anyway and had hoped that my forced move to new Blogger would resolve many of my problems. Fortunately,this seems to have happened without anyone dying or other severe consquences. On the other hand, people are having trouble leaving comments, and really, I kind of live for comments. (It's like when a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, does it make a sound?)

So to assist the commenting process, here's what I suggest:
1. Never, ever use the tab key to move between fields. It always fucks shit up. I know it is annoying. Sorry.

2. After typing the comment, click on the "other" button. Type your name and blog URL. Then when people click on it, they will get to your site.

3. Type in the word verfication. Do not hit tab. Use the mouse to publish the comment.

4. Curse at Blogger as often as needed. (They are the asshole idiots in my label.)

Incidentally, I had three vaccinations late this morning (polio booster in my right arm, TB booster and Hep B in my left) and my arms hurt like the fires of hell are raging within my muscles. This as much as my time at Bugaboo Magazine is why I am so late in posting.

New Relationships

Yesterday I was forcibly "migrated" to the upgraded version of Blogger. I am sort of excited about it, as there are some very helpful new features on this version (like when a comment is emailed to me, it tells me what post it appears in conjunction with; I can label my posts) but I also have heard some complaints about it. As with any new relationship, only time will tell whether we are meant for each other.

Speaking of new relationships, last night Husband and I joined an old NYU chum for dinner. As we reminisced about the people we knew, Chum reminded me of a particularly unsavory story. Husband's roommate for all three years that he lived in NYU housing was a scrawny, computer geek Italian Republican from Long Island who we shall call Frank. Frank was fairly moderate, but he did love saying highly offensive things to annoy people, and he was a genial misanthrope in general. (We did indeed have things in common despite our enormous political gulf, so generally we got along fine.)

Anyway, not long after Frank began dating a woman he had lusted after for years, he was sitting at the dinner table with his parents. "What color are her nipples?" his dad asked wolfishly. Frank was pissed at his dad's utterly disgusting and disturbing question, and did not answer.

The two morals of the story: Frank's dad is a disgusting creep. And until I heard that story, it never even occurred to me that nipples came in such a rainbow of colors that one might speculate about the hue of another. (I guess I don't consume enough porn.) So even leering perverts might teach you something new.