United Airlines Kills the Easter Bunny
Hide yo kids! Hide yo bunnies! United is at it again. I mean first they kicked tween girls off a plane for wearing inappropriate leggings (what else do these girls wear?), then they bashed the head of that kindly old doctor and dragged him off the plane, but now they have gone too far. They killed a giant bunny. A giant bunny bred by a former playboy bunny, who had surgery to look like Jessica Rabbit.
Here comes PETER FREAKING COTTONTAIL.
No, I’m not making any of this up. This has to be the best news day of all time.
Er, um, except for the bunny. RIP Simon.
When they say “giant bunny” they aren’t kidding here. This rabbit weighed 33 pounds and was 3 feet long. News sources say “That was one big freaking rabbit.” It doesn’t help that United has the worst record again this year for animal deaths, including eight dogs and a little baby kitten. (Have you no shame, United?) But the real stories come from the following dear friends of the giant rabbit, who express their condolences.
“Simon was a little weird, always hiding those eggs every year “for Jesus”, as he said, but he was a great guy. I think the pilot must have been Mr. McGregor.” – Peter Rabbit.
“No one had a bad word for Simon. He was just so real, ya know. And huge.” – The Velveteen Rabbit
“Roger thinks this is a really messed up deal for Simon. And he’s married to me.” – Jessica Rabbit
“Even the Mad Hatter won’t ride United now. Oh, crap, I’m late for my flight!” – The White Rabbit
“Yeah, that’s all folks,” – Bugs Bunny
No one knows how to break the news to the kids. What are they going to do without all those eggs and giant chocolate bunnies and, bizarrely, giant chocolate crosses? Hyperglycemia does not cause itself. One thing is for sure – I am not flying United Airlines anytime soon. Because you know they’re probably going to start shoving overbooked passengers, or doctors, or tweens (you know some people would cheer for this) into the cargo holds next, and even Simon didn’t make it out of that alive. But don’t worry, United is “deeply saddened” by this, just like they were about the incident with the doctor. I mean after first ignoring it, then smearing his name through the mud, then, after stocks plummeted, finally “apologizing” with all the sincerity of a politician. They also plan to address this issue with their wronged party. By Ouija board apparently.
Luckily all the news outlets are on this case.
“Now United’s Killing Fluffy Bunnies!” – The Daily Mail.
“United Airlines Investigates Giant Bunny Death” – Wazobia Journal
“World’s Biggest Rabbit Dies in Mysterious Circumstances on Flight in New PR Disaster United Airlines” – The Sun
I’m not sure what the weirdest thing about this case is – that there can be as much outcry over a bunny death as there is over a human getting beaten and dragged from a flight or that there is a bunny that is 33 POUNDS. One things is for sure – bunnies get peoples’ attention. Your raving reporter Alice promises to keep a close eye on any developing news. What do you think will happen next with United? What kind of settlement will Jessica Rabbit get? What about the children? Let me know in the comments below.
~Alice
Seven Dwarfs Go To The Mall or Why Snow White Should Not Be G-rated
Breaking news! The Things and I just happened to catch the Seven Dwarfs at the mall yesterday (It could happen). And they volunteered to be interviewed! Well most of them did – Grumpy had to be restrained. But it was all worth it, cause now we can let you see into the minds of the real stars of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs – the dwarfs of course. What do they dig them jewels for? What the heck is wrong with Dopey? Why is Bashful, you know, Bashful? What ticks Grumpy off the most? Why are they still in the same bachelor pad after all these years? How have they adjusted to modern times? So many questions. Let’s get some answers.
Warning: This will ruin your childhood and possibly scar you for life. (Click to enlarge pictures)
They were easy to spot what with the single file and all.
The dwarfs each had special shops in mind, but were nice enough to wait. Mostly. First we spoke to Sneezy, while trying to avoid his mucus.
I’m now going to have to change clothes and get vaccinated.
Next we spoke to Grumpy. Or rather he spoke to us.
Not sure if that’s the best place for you to go right now, Grumpy.
Let’s check in with Sleepy while he’s still awake.
Not sure if we want to know, Sleepy.
Let’s check in with old, reliable Doc.
I guess that’s what they dig them for?
Well, there’s that lovable Bashful.
I’m not seeing this.
Let’s talk to Happy. I could use some happy. But – what happened to his hands?
Hooo boy.
I wish Happy had some soap and water for MY brain.
Okay, one last dwarf. Thank freaking Disney-goodness. Dopey. Aw, what could be wrong with Dopey, fan favorite?
Oh, right he doesn’t talk much. Wonder what he’s thinking about?
Well there goes my childhood.
Wow. Okay so I think that answered all my questions and then some, boys and girls! I need to get hold of some of that memory soap and see if I can reach my brain.
Any other Disney characters you’d like to peer into the minds of? I didn’t think so.
Alice
My Chemical Wonderland
One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you
Don’t do anything at all
Go ask Alice, when she’s ten feet tall
I originally started this blog because I felt my life was much like Alice’s. I never knew whether I was coming or going and nothing ever made sense. Such is life. But add a few chemicals to the mix and boy do you get fun, fun, fun! Soon you are chasing a rabbit down a hole. Or is it chasing you?
I’m late! WTF am I late for?
And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you’re going to fall
Tell ’em a hookah smoking caterpillar
Has given you the call
To call Alice, when she was just small
I have been on antidepressants since I was a teenager. I once tried to get off of them and decided, bad idea. People have all sorts of opinions on this subject, but I’m not arguing that. I’m just talking about what’s happening with me, cause that’s what I care about, me. So anyway, if you’ve been reading, I have been going through some medication changes that have affected me just a tad.
When the men on the chessboard get up
And tell you where to go
And you’ve just had some kind of mushroom
And your mind is moving low
Go ask Alice, I think she’ll know
I was put on abilify to help with the other two, and then I was taken off of that cause weight, and then I was put on this one called cytomel (they all sound like alien planets) and then off of that, and then back on that, and just now I had a new shrink tell me that I should go back ON abilify because hey the weight gain will plateau. Or something. He had a thick accent, so I’m not entirely sure what he said. At this point, all doctors sound like these guys to me.
I think I’m the dormouse in this one.
This was the on-call doctor after hours, who told me to tell my shrink that I should like, be on this pill. But now I can’t remember why I got on the first pill to begin with – lack of energy? Feeling all mixed up? Wait, that’s how I feel now. And the whole “it won’t be that bad, trust us” is a load of crap. I’m starting not to trust these people. Is it really paranoia if you’re dealing with shrinks who apparently must be nuts themselves in order to get a license? I don’t think so.
When logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead
And the white knight is talking backwards
And the red queen’s off with her head
Remember what the dormouse said
Feed your head,
Feed your head
Gee, let’s try this one.
Sleight weight gain? WTF?
We’re doctors, trust us.
I’m in charge now . . . I think.
all pictures from Lenny’s Alice in Wonderland site
Depression sucks, but you don’t have to
Lately I have been experiencing the Sad Ponys. I don’t like to talk about this much, because let’s face it, Sad Pony is a real downer. But sometimes his weight is really, really heavy and I need help getting his big pony butt off of me.
Part of my problem is with my medication. Now I’m not one of those people that fears aspirin and thinks Big Pharma is planning a major takeover with doctors around the globe and that if you have depression all you should do is take vitamins and hop on a couch. But I will say that getting the correct meds and the correct dosage can feel much like a nasty trip down the rabbit hole.
Side effects may vary.
Recently I was put on Abilify. They have commercials about it all the time, just like they do for every other medicine, as if we average schmoes can decide if we need a new heart medication even if the side effects are dry eye and death. I always figured that’s why we went to doctors, you know, so those peeps with all that education would tell us what medicine we need. But sometimes they don’t know so they just kind of throw stuff at us cause, doctors.
So I was a bit skeptical about taking this stuff, but I did because lately I’ve had the depression that makes you tired all the time and reduces your emotions to “don’t care”, “really don’t care”, and “fuck off”. So I took it. And it was so far out. It worked. I started having this energy I haven’t had in so long I’d forgotten what it felt like. At work I got some actual work accomplished. I didn’t have to go to bed as soon as I got home from work. Of course I kind of couldn’t go to bed because I was so freaking wired, but that was a small price to pay for experiencing energy and actual emotion. I played a moving song and actually cried because it was so beautiful and I was feeling something.
I might have cried a bit much. Damn it.
So when I went to see my shrink I was expecting an attagirl and a prescription and a bye-bye, cause my shrink doesn’t exactly talk to me or look at me for very long, which is generally fine with me. But this time he was very alarmed. ZOMG. I had gained ten pounds in two weeks! Hadn’t I noticed? Well, no, not actually. I experience a fun thing called bloating a lot of the time so I just figured it was that. And anyway, it wasn’t technically 10 pounds because he didn’t realize I gain and lose five pounds like every morning and if he’d weighed me then he’d realize I’d only gained like six pounds. Or so. And also once I told him to check his chart he realized it had been a month, not two weeks, since he’d seen me.
I don’t have a great deal of faith in this shrink. For one thing, he didn’t know when my last visit was. For another, I don’t think he knows who I am. I’m pretty sure he couldn’t pick me out in a line up. In other words, my shrink is an asshat, but that’s not generally a problem cause all I need him to do is sign off on my meds. But this time he took me off, because weight gain is a major problem. I told him I had so much energy, though. And he said, “Good thing, cause you gain all the weight!”
He is still living today by the grace of God.
So after tsking a while about THE WEIGHT he decided to take me off that one and immediately put me on another medication that was “pretty much the same thing.” You know, don’t worry your pretty little fat head, Alice. So I left and just as I was feeling it couldn’t get worse, I realized I had split my pants in the front. Ah. So yeah, I guess I might have put on a little bit of weight. Yay.
Scale of Injustice
I tried the new med. But I wasn’t doing well on it, judging by the amount of crybaby per day increasing exponentially. Of course, since he took me off one and immediately put me on another, I wasn’t sure if it was this drug or coming off of the other drug or something else all together. I looked up this drug and realized it was a medicine for your thyroid. Which he didn’t actually tell me, cause, well, I’m a woman and a regular person, not a doctor, so who needs to know that he’s messing with my endocrine system, am I right?
So I called the shrink nurse (her name is Boo and no I’m not kidding) and she told me to stop taking it and “see what happens.” I love being experimented on. It’s like when Alice was like, wtf, I’ll just eat this crap and drink this stuff and oh SHIT I am 16 feet tall. But I did it, and well, stuff was still crappy but it was hard to tell the current crap from the other crap. This experiment was not very well done. I think these people need to go back to rats.
My friends said I needed a new shrink. So I tried two others. The first one would not take anyone who had seen another shrink in the same town (there are a total of five in this town, two of them children’s shrinks) in the last year. Well, great, so that’s really helpful. Then I tried the other shrink and surprise, she doesn’t take insurance. Of any kind. These people apparently don’t want to have patients. I guess that makes it easier on them, though I’m not sure how they stay in business.
I’m sitting on youuuu. Oh, yeah, shrinks suck.
So I was kind of stuck, and I don’t like feeling stuck, and that made the Sads even worse, and I was having trouble even going to work. But I did yesterday, and I made it through. Not with doctors, or meds, but with a little help from my bloggy friends, Merbear and Twindaddy. These guys stayed with me on the Internet, checking in constantly, and keeping me sane. It’s not like they didn’t have other things they could be doing besides entertaining me, but they did it anyway, because they care about me and they are awesomesauce. We talked about intellectual topics like all the ways to say pee (“piss, number one, urinate, oh what a relief it is, etc.”) I made it through the day because of them. Thanks, guys.
I’m not sure what’s ahead, but I figure eventually I’ll get out of this damn rabbit hole. Because there will be someone to throw me a rope. I’m very lucky for that. But I wanted peeps to know because sometimes I use humor to cover up how I really feel (no shit, right?) and that doesn’t help those who are in the same boat floating on a sea of tears, dealing with the mad hatter and that bitch the Queen of Hearts, and everything else Wonderland tosses at you. We aren’t alone. We aren’t ever alone. There’s always a place at the table. New cup, move down.
Come join me for tea.
On Facebook, Blogging, Privacy, and Imaginary Animals
Here’s my second (and last) Facebook update with Sad Pony and Squirrel. For the other two click here and here. Thus far Squirrel has twelve friends. All of his friends are my blogging buddies. Some people would call them “enablers”, but I call them freaking awesome. He has sent out friend requests to Jethro from NCIS and Sarah Palin. No response from Jethro, but Sarah froze my Facebook page demanding personal information from me and I had to shut it down to get rid of her scary face. You know, I’m thinking maybe that wasn’t really Sarah Palin.
Squirrel has gone around manically “liking” everything from Zingers and Energy drinks to every TV show with the word “Bachelor” in it. So we get lots of posts from these companies. And people not only like them, they actually comment on them. It says something when you are a squirrel on Facebook, but you don’t come close to keeping up with the weird. For instance, Fisher Nuts asks you to fill in the blank. Their latest: “This weekend I plan to ____ with ____. They really shouldn’t have left themselves so open there. (Click to enlarge.)
I like my answer best, though the guy mowing the lawn with his nuts is also amusing.
I was most curious about what sort of advertisements the two would get. Here are some of Squirrel’s. I’m not sure why. (Click to enlarge)
My favorite is the one about luxury travel. High on every squirrel’s list.
The “friending” stuff has been amusing in other ways. One of my IRL (in real life) pals is also a blogging buddy. Here’s what happened when one of my pals came up as a “suggested friend” on her facebook page. (Click to enlarge)
So many animal friends on Facebook, so little time.
But what about Sad Pony? Oh, he’s been active as well. Well, as active as he gets, which is using a mouse with his teeth. He has tried to friend several My Little Ponies but gotten no response. Rude. I guess maybe it would help if he were pink and glittery.
Sad Pony has not “liked” as well as Squirrel because he doesn’t like many things. Mostly he posts gloomy Facebook updates, because everybody loves that one friend who ONLY posts gloom and doom. On the other hand, excessively happy people can get annoying too. Observe: (click to enlarge)
Those two do have fun.
Sad Pony also got some strange advertisers, including a group that was concerned he was on Meth. I think they should have targeted that to Squirrel, personally. But what does Facebook know?
Not much. Neither do I. Though this has been interesting and at times amusing, I think it’s time to draw this experiment to a close. For one thing, it is very easy to cross the line of stupidity and offend people. Yes even I realized that. And if I’m going to friend fellow bloggers, I’d rather do so as Alice. Or the girl behind the curtain, ie the writer behind Alice.
Pay no attention to the writer behind the curtain.
But it’s a tricky thing. Part of me wants to share with all of you more of me, but the other part gets a little freaked out. When you blog, it is easier to express stuff, even stuff you wouldn’t normally express, when you are anonymous. On the other hand, it frees you to express this stuff without accountability. Should we be held accountable?
Yeah, I’m getting all serious here, and maybe too serious. Does it matter what we reveal on Facebook, especially if we are careful to keep everything private (by constantly checking to make sure Zuckerberg hasn’t changed the settings AGAIN)? I’m well aware that most people could get that information about me in other ways, if they really wanted to do so.
I’d love to interact more with blogger friends, because you can get to know people better through other social media such as Facebook. On the other hand, some things make me uncomfortable. Why does Facebook feel the need to keep suggesting the friends of my friends? Maybe they don’t want to be suggested as friends, but they don’t have a choice.
Then there is the time issue – do I have time to waste on Facebook what with all my time already being wasted on blogging and silly computer games? And it’s so easy to lose track of time on a site like that, when really I should be paying attention to my Things and that husband guy occasionally.
So as Sad Pony and Squirrel disappear from Facebook, I ask you some questions. How close are you with blogger friends? Do you have many on Facebook or other social media? Have you ever thought of tossing your Facebook account? Do you worry about privacy? I know many people have family on there, but thank goodness, I do not. So there’s not that tie for me. If you didn’t have a tie like that, would you still Facebook?
Let me know in the comments below. And thanks to everybody for playing along. You guyz are great.
Very Merry Unbirthday… part 2
And now the conclusion to Not Quite Alice‘s Mad Tea Party . . . If you missed part one, see here.
I’m not exactly sure how it happened really, it just did. One moment, everyone is enjoying the party, and the next thing I know, it’s chaos. No, that’s wrong. I can tell you what went wrong. Hatter and the March Hare, that’s what went wrong. I made sure they didn’t know about it, that everyone’s invitations said to keep mum about it, yet somehow, they still found out. I’m completely laying the blame at their jam covered feet.
Those two always liven up a party.
It was a nightmare. That god forsaken doorbell kept ringing, and yet no one seemed to hear it. I tried to ignore it, but alas, it was blasted annoying. It wouldn’t stop, and yet I know I do not have a doorbell in this garden. It feels as if I’m tipping the scales in favor of being mad. Oh I hope not.
Just as I started to try very hard to ignore the dratted doorbell, I saw the look on Caterpillar’s face. He was about to go off on a rant. I could see it coming. Oh please, not now Caterpillar, not now. Oh, this is not going to be good. I best go try to intervene. I can only guess what Rabbit said to him. Oh no, it’s not Rabbit. How did the one Twin get to be next to him? I swear he wasn’t there a moment ago. Why is he bumping his stomach into him? Caterpillar does not like being touched. And there he goes, his face just changed to red.
“Who are you to be touching me? Do not touch me you child. You shall see my wrath if you continue.”
As he spoke, you could see the pieces of spittle flying out of his mouth, as well as the puffs of smoke he was blowing into the Twin’s face. This ended up blinding the twin. Yes, a bumbling fool became more of one due to being blinded by Caterpillar’s spit and smoke. Trying to wipe his eyes, he bounces right into Caterpillar again, who kicked him away. This caused him to fly into Rabbit and the table. Rabbit took off at a run. To where, you might ask. Nowhere in particular, just around the table, but boy was he in a hurry.
Run, rabbit, run!
At this point, I’m still hearing the doorbell; I cannot take it anymore and have to find it. I leave the chaos of the blinded twin and startled Rabbit behind and start looking. I go to the gate, where anyone might logically think to find something, yet nothing is there. Weird, even the door of the gate is no longer there. How odd. So I start around the cottage (yes I live in a cottage, it’s a step up from a shack, and I don’t need a mansion). Again, nothing there. Wait, that’s not true, there are footprints there, but those could be from anyone. I best leave those alone and keep looking.
As I continue looking around the other side of the cottage, I hear the noise coming from the garden at an increasingly louder pitch, and with more of a sound of hysteria attached. This shall not be good at all. I give up hope of finding the dratted doorbell sound, and now the missing garden gate, and start walking faster towards the garden, after all, I was told ladies do not run, just walk at a much faster pace.
And then I saw it, pure and utter chaos in the form of Hatter and March Hare. Blast it all. Bullocks, this was not suppose to happen, and at my Unbirthday party. I started seeing red, lots and lots of red, like the color of the blood that was about to flow from those two.
Why was this going to happen? Oh, you would feel the same way in my shoes. My cute dainty pumps. Actually, you look like you wouldn’t fit them, so I best not use that phrase, instead I’ll say if you were in my place. Yes, if you were in my place, you would want to spill their blood too.
What I saw as I reentered the garden was unbelievable. The Caterpillar was so enraged; he was bright red and sputtering like a boiling tea pot. The Rabbit was still sprinting around the tea table, but now, it looked he was having balance issues. He kept slipping and sliding, like he was on one of those funny slip n slide games. And his vest is now covered in jam. I know I hid that jam too. Goodness me. This is not good. The twin is still bumping into everything, wait, no; he stopped, and now he is rolling around like a large awkward ball. He is going to hurt someone, if not himself.
Further down, you see the White Knight sound asleep. Thank goodness for miracles, sadly that’s where it ends. The Carpenter and Walrus are in the middle of a serious row. In fact, my lovely scones that I worked so hard on, are being flung across the table as weapons. They’re not weapons, they’re food. So flaky and moist and just dying for some clotted cream. Not to be launched as projectiles.
Wait, these aren’t oysters, they’re scones – bah.
Right in the middle of all of that, I hear some yelling.
“Clean cup, everybody move down. Clean cup, I need a clean cup.”
There’s Hatter, yelling for a clean cup, and he’s literally pushing people out of their chairs. Ok, I admit that there really are not many left in their chairs, just the White Knight. Sadly I have been mistake, he’s now out of his chair, and sleeping on the ground. Hatter is sitting in his place, drinking his tea. March Hare is right beside him tossing jam like it’s confetti at Rabbit, wait, no that’s stopped, he’s now throwing it at flying scones. Jam is landing on everyone and everything.
Oh goodness, there goes Caterpillar, he’s leaving, well and also leaving a trail of smeared butter, cream, and jam. So that’s how Rabbit looked like he was having balance issues, but how did butter and cream end up on his feet? That will have to stay a mystery for now I’m afraid as I don’t have time to deal with all these mysteries as well as the growing chaos.
I do mean chaos too. There is a trail of jam, butter, and clotted cream leading out of the garden, as well as it being smeared everywhere. I have scones flying across the table as if they were grenades. The Hatter and March Hare are now dancing on the table, why, I’m not really sure, but again, that’s a mystery I cannot solve at the moment, no time. Rabbit is sprinting around and around and around my table while sliding every which way thanks to his butter and cream covered feet. Over there is the White Knight, sound asleep with a blanket of discarded food and condiments on top of him. I don’t see how this could get more out of hand.
“Not Quite Alice, what is the meaning of this? I thought you had invited me to a tea party, not the circus.”
This party bites.
Bullocks, it just got worse.
“Hello Duchess, I’m so pleased you could make it, won’t you take a seat?”
I knew I should have listened to Alice, and not held a tea party on a day ending in Y.
Very Merry Unbirthday… part 1
Hullo, all. I have another guest blogger today, with the most fabulous name ever. Not Quite Alice of myrabbitholes. I know, right? TWO Alices. How are you going to tell us apart? I’ll give you a clue. One of us is nuts, and the other one is crazy. So there you go. She’s written a nice little short story about a tea party she tried to have on my blog. It went about as well as most of my family dinners. Also many of my work meetings. It comes in two parts, so stay tuned tomorrow for the rest. Enjoy.
This should go well.
“Clean cup! Move down!”
Oh good lord, not again. How did I get myself into this one? I could have sworn they were not invited. No, I know that they were not invited. I specifically ignored sending them an invite. This was my party, not theirs. I do not care if they have the best tea ever, they always manage to ruin every tea party. Case in point, this one.
It all started off normal. Ok, yes I know it usually does. I should know better by now. Really, I should, I swear I’m too naïve at times.
So the invites went out, ignoring the 2 party crashers (ok they weren’t crashers until they showed up uninvited, but this was my Unbirthday and they ruined the last one.). The tea was ordered, the scones were made, and the butter and jam hidden. That looks about right. Oh, one more thing, almost forgot. There, that’s better. I had to make sure that there were cups at each person’s setting. I cannot have that happen again. Clean cups and saucers for all.
Ok, that should do it. Everyone shall be here soon. Let the party begin!
And cue the doorbell!
No, it actually did just start ringing, which is odd in and of itself, I don’t have a door bell, this is outside, in the garden. So where did the doorbell come from? Ok, I’ll worry about that later, it’s not as if I’m utterly bonkers. I hope.
It took a while to make all those freaking giant invitations.
Guests! There here!
Places everyone, places.
What am I thinking? I am the one that needs to take their place. Should I sit down, or should I greet? Oh my, I don’t want anything to go wrong. It cannot go wrong this time. Not with the Duchess coming. At least, she said she will be coming. Oh I hope she does.
Oh please go good. Please!
There’s that doorbell again. Seriously, when did a doorbell get installed in the garden? No time for that now though, I need to get this party going.
Where is the party going? Oh never you mind that. It’s here, right here in my garden. Don’t you worry about that. Time to start the party.
In walked the Caterpillar, though is that what you would call what he does? Is it walking? Oh I don’t know, but I’ll call it walking for now. Goodness, he brought that God awful Hookah with him again. Can he not go anywhere without smoking that. He also goes on and on about the alphabet and vowels, and asking ridiculous questions that have no proper answers when he is smoking it. I do not need my guests to have to deal with that. I could have sworn I put it on his invitation that this will be a smoke free party.
No one tells the Caterpillar he’s had enough to smoke.
“Oh do go sit over there, I set up a rather large stool for you, I didn’t know if you could fit into the chair properly.”
And off he goes to the large bean bag style stool I had just received in the mail yesterday. I bought it just for him. He’ll break my chairs otherwise.
Goodness! Where does that blasted doorbell keep coming from? I swear, it’s going to drive me utterly bonkers.
Oh look! It’s the Knave of Hearts. I must keep an eye on him, last time he was around, my tarts disappeared. Oh I hope my scones don’t disappear, they are my favorites and I worked so hard to bake them too. I did invite him though, so best be nice. I just didn’t think he would actually arrive. Ok, control yourself, you can do it. Do not start hiding the food. You can do it. Good girl.
“You best sit down over here, Caterpillar brought the Hookah again, and I know how you cannot stand his rants. “
“I could always just steal that Hookah from him.”
“Don’t even, then that’s all we shall be hearing about for the rest of this Unbirthday. I would like this one to go without a problem.”
I do hope he got the hint, don’t steal my food. How very rude of a guest to do that.
Again! That annoying doorbell. Where the frak is it coming from?
Oh, look, there’s one of the twins, is it Dee or Dumb? Oh, I can never tell the difference between the two. I swear, one is Dumb and the other is Dumber. It’s very fitting. Neither is very smart, they’re actually quite lacking in the brains department, but at least they’re entertaining to have at any gathering. Though, I still do not know which this one is.
Tweedle Dee or Dumb or who cares, what a whack job.
Best go see who it is.
“Well, I’m so glad you could make it. Is it just you, or is your brother going to be joining us as well?” (see how slick that was, I hope he gets the hint.)
“That jolly lump is on his way, yet which way it is, I do not know. Perhaps it’s there, or is it here? It could be that a way, or is it this a way?”
Oh sweet sugar, what is he talking about? And he didn’t answer who he is, now I’m just going to have to pretend I know who it is. I wonder if he will actually notice I do not know who he is, or what he is saying? Honestly, I don’t think anyone knows what he is saying.
Oh look, there’s the white knight. He’s such an interesting person, not much of a knight, but a great inventor. I still don’t understand why he became a knight, except he said his father was one, therefore he had to be one. Poor guy, he’s not very brave, this is definitely the wrong line of work for him. He’s better at creating inventions. Perhaps I shall mention this annoying doorbell that keeps going off out here in my garden.
The white knight is usually a reasonable fellow.
“Good day Sir White Knight, how are you?”
“And exactly who are you again? I don’t recall ever being here before. Where is here?”
“I do believe that you were going to this chair right here. Do take a seat sir, all will be well. Enjoy your tea.”
Great, he’s in one of those moods today. I swear he remembers less and less each time I see him. Honestly, I’m surprised he found his way here, or even remembered that he was to come here.
“Does anyone else hear a doorbell going off?” I cannot help it, I have to ask. I keep hearing it, and no one else seems to. And then the stares start, at least it’s only 4 sets of eyes though. I couldn’t take it if it was more than that just staring at me like I’ve lost my marbles. How could I? I have not had marbles with me this whole time anyways.
I do believe I see the White Rabbit arriving. Late as usual. I swear, he needs to get a working watch. He is always running late. I am half expecting that he will not stay long and run off saying he is late, again. Tis a good thing I have his place all set already.
Daylight savings time? I’m LATE!
“Oh good, you’re here Rabbit. I have a place all over here for you. Caterpillar cannot wait to talk to you today.”
That will start to teach him about being on time. From now on, I’ll make sure he sits by Caterpillar until he comes on time. He had best be glad I didn’t sit him near the one twin. Such a nervous little guy too. You’d think he was about to lose his head. Goodness me.
Oh look, there’s the Walrus and the Carpenter. I’m surprised that they came together. Last I heard, the Carpenter was livid with Walrus for eating all those oysters. And they’re suppose to be such good friends too! I’m glad Walrus isn’t my good friend, but he does have a lively aura about him, such fun to have around. Still, if he was my friend, I might have, no, I definitely would have gotten back at him.
“Gentlemen, I’m so glad you could make it today. Do come and enjoy. You’ll find some empty chairs right over here. Let me know if I can get you anything.”
Just don’t kill each other today, save it for when you leave. Please.
It doesn’t look like the Duchess is coming, so I guess we best get things started. I can take my place at the table now.
“Thank you everyone for coming to celebrate my Unbirthday with me today. You have made this a most joyous occasion. Please, everyone, enjoy your tea and scones, and let me know if you need anything.”
And with that, the calm ended.
Don’t forget to come back tomorrow for the exciting and possibly bloody conclusion!
Where the heck is Alice?
This all started with that bloody Daily Post. The nice WP person who is much more computer savvy than I, talked about how you could insert a Google map into one of your posts. And then you could talk about all the places you had been. This would have been pretty lame. Or you could talk about where you wanted to go. I figured that would be more fun, and I could make it really nuts, and travel from Texas to Canada (I hear it’s better) to Mexico (I like the food) to Chile (I like countries with food names) to Antarctica (I like Penguins).
But, predictably, I could not get this feature to work. I tried drawing lines between points and my lines would not work when I wanted to, but worked splendidly when I didn’t want them to do so. And sometimes Google Maps would place markers in the middle of say, the Indian Ocean. I’m not a very good swimmer. Finally, when I was done, Google Maps showed a picture of . . . blue. That was the map. I have no idea what I did.
It doesn’t help that I have absolutely no sense of Geography whatsoever. All those European countries over there are all just floating around hither and yon and I have no idea what all they have in Africa. I did at one time – right after I took my Geography class, but then my brain decided it could dump that file. Who needs that when you can hang onto 5o prepositions (aboard, about, above, across . . .) and the names of all the Cabbage Patch Kids you had as a child. Clearly this info is more important.
Not only do I not know Geography, I don’t even know where I am at any one time. I have no sense of direction, and can get lost in the city I’ve lived either by or in MY ENTIRE LIFE. This is a source of great amusement to my husband, but not so much to me, as I circle around and around the same gas station, trying to find my way to the doctor’s office I’ve visited dozens of times before.
So I figured that since I couldn’t get Google Maps to work, I’d just make my own freaking map. I made a map of Wonderland as it exists in my blog world. Hop down the rabbit hole and take a look.
Who needs real countries when you can make them up?
Just remember: if you get lost, do not ask me for directions.
Parenting advice from the Duchess
Where’s Supernanny when you need her?
While the Duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing the baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so, that Alice could hardly hear the words:-
`I speak severely to my boy,
I beat him when he sneezes;
For he can thoroughly enjoy
The pepper when he pleases!’
-Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
What a lovely nursery rhyme! Okay, so the Duchess would not be considered parent-of-the-year material. In fact, the whole shaken baby thing would definitely get her a day in court, unless the child were to turn into a pig, in which case she’d only have to worry about PETA.
But what makes the “perfect” parent? Obviously we don’t want to beat children for sneezing – not when there are so many other reasons to smack them. Not saying that I do, of course, but I doubt there’s a real parent on earth who hasn’t thought of it at least once. This is why television is such a lifesaver. Without the occasional use of the boob tube babysitter, I bet there’d be a lot more sneezing beatings.
But of course you’ll get the parents who know more than you do. Nevermind that thus far, you’ve managed to not kill your kids, a very awesome success in itself, these people are certain they are doing it better than you are. Their precious child never had a bottle, never watched a second of T.V., never threw tantrums, never ate anything but organic homemade food, never had a second of unstructured time. They did learn to speak, crawl, and walk earlier than other babies. Also, their children prefer the taste of spinach over chocolate, and eat it all the time, and are involved in every type of sport, and also make straight As. And then, of course, they wonder – what do YOU do?
I am a slacker mom. I used to be embarrassed about this, especially around the Stepford wife crowd, found anywhere, but especially known to congregate in churches. But now I look at my kids, and I realize that they’re not perfect, but they’re happy most of the time. They weren’t breastfed for years, but they have fewer allergies than their breastfed peers. They didn’t always walk and crawl and talk right when the book said they should, but my eldest hummed “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” to herself at less than a year.
Her little sister was more the scientist type than the artistic – at about 17 months she discovered through personal experimentation that super glue was, in fact, not a poisonous substance. And this was after quite a few hours of the dreaded Clifford the Big Red Dog, Teletubbies, and Big, Big World, a show that would make the staunchest environmentalist want to burn down a rain forest. But they did learn from these shows, and as far as I can tell, haven’t lost brain cells because of it. I might need to tone down the Disney channel, though, because I’m fairly sure I’ve lost some from it merely by secondhand exposure.
Sometimes I get mad at my kids and shout at them. Sometimes I’m too tired to play. Sometimes I have to GET OUT before I go completely insane. They aren’t in any structured activities save church and Girl Scouts. But thus far they haven’t written a tell-all book about me. And my eldest even wrote an essay praising my good qualities, including showing them vidoes on Youtube. Which might have made the teacher wonder. But, ah well. When I’m feeling down, I remember that at least I don’t beat them for sneezing. So, with any luck, they won’t grow up to be pigs after all.
The Caucus Race
The candidates are bigger dodos every year . . .
First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, (‘the exact shape doesn’t matter,’ it said,) and then all the party were placed along the course, here and there. There was no ‘One, two, three, and away,’ but they began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over.
– Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
*Note – this was originally published in 2011 back when my audience consisted of three people or so, one of them me. I decided to resurrect and update it some in honor of our upcoming doom election. Hope you enjoy it!
There is a cold, soul-stealing chill in the air. Leaves die and fall from the trees, as the world prepares for the killing frost. What could this be a sign of? That’s right – it’s the political season! Haha, I’m only kidding. Politics does not have a season, for yea, it is eternal. As soon as a president is elected, the opposing party mounts a campaign for the next election while the newly elected president tries to keep himself popular enough for reelection, unless he is the incumbent, in which case he just tries not to do anything too embarrassing for his party. You know, like randomly declaring war or messing around with interns or selling illegal weapons or just generally acting like an asshole.
Obviously, many presidents fail at this. The only president most people have any respect for is Abraham Lincoln, and that’s because we don’t remember much about him except that he freed the slaves and all, which was swell of him to do, what with us having been a “free” country for a hundred years. So Abe was cool. Also George Washington because he was first. We like them so much we have a federal holiday for them (and a three day weekend if we’re lucky). But they are the exception. Gone are the days when our leaders were idolized figures. We’ve been cynical about politics for a long time, but with the economy in the toilet, people are getting downright psychotic.
Case in point.
In Wonderland, there is a caucus race, in which several strange creatures run round and round again in a race with no clear beginning or end. So politics have not changed since Carroll’s time, nor really since the beginning of time. The only people that would subject themselves to being President are clearly mad, so our pool of candidates has created what is known as voter apathy. As in, Americans vote more for their favorite American Idol than they do for President. Really though, you can vote for American Idol on the Internet, whereas with the president you have to figure out what district you’re in (they change them every election for fun), track down the obscure location, stand in line (if you’re in Texas, I advise you vote Democrat – much faster lines), and figure out the screwed up ballots. Every state does it differently, with Florida winning the medal for stupidest voting methods ever. On the plus side, during the 2000 election we did get to use the term “pregnant chads”. When else would you have opportunity for that?
So let’s say you’re crazy – er ambitious – enough to run for President. What do you have to do? Well, it helps if you are a wealthy, middle-aged white male with plastic hair. If you can’t manage that, you’d better have a great campaign slogan. Like “Choose me. At least I’m not so and so!” Be your own man – or really hot woman (this helps the sexist men look over your fault of not having a penis. Cause you’ve got bosoms, which are better.) The People like someone who speaks his mind. Of course you’d better not speak your real mind, or you’ll embarrass everybody. You have to impress your party platform also, or no amount of plastic hair and waxed teeth are going to get you the nomination. Hint: If you are a Republican, try not to mention “choice” too much. And if you’re a Democrat, don’t talk about how your favorite dish is endangered seals. It won’t go over well. If you’re a Libertarian, you can say whatever the hell you want, because no one will vote for you anyway.
Typical political candidate.
But what if you don’t have any real viewpoints? What if you’re so stupid you only got through college because your wife (future First Lady!) did all your term papers for you while you drank heavily with your frat brothers? Not a problem. You don’t actually have to have views on the issues, or even know what they are necessarily. All you have to do is make the other guy look like more a loser than you are. This is known formally as Debate. The moderator will ask you questions to see how you stand on the issues. Oh, oh, questions! Again, don’t fret, project. And if that doesn’t work, change the subject. Observe the model below:
Moderator: Mr. Smith, what will you do to improve the economy?
Smith: Well, I will not do what Mr. Jones did.
Moderator: Great. What will you do?
Smith: Abortion is wrong. Jones likes abortion. He aborts babies for fun. In fact, he likes getting women pregnant just so he can perform more abortions. Abortion.
Moderator: That has nothing to do with the issue we are discussing.
Smith: Well it should. Abortion is important. Mr. Jones likes abortion. Also, he’s gay.
And so forth. Keep dancing around the questions while taking jabs at your opponent. Be sure you don’t say anything concrete that they can nail you on later. If they keep pressing you, claim that you are being prejudiced against because of your sex, race, national origin, or lack of intelligence. And then point out that the other candidate likes having orgies with nuns.
If you can do all this and secure your party’s nomination, you’ve got it made. Well, until you actually get elected. Then it’s time to start all over again.
aliceatwonderland 