No triviality too banal.


A Chance for Bug-eyed Redemption

When Dirtbunny was a kitten of 5 years old, she was traumatized by a horror movie she saw on TV.  That movie was “The Ghost and Mr. Chicken” starring Don Knotts.   Ever since, she has been the object of ridicule in her family.  You were afraid of Mr. Chicken.  Hahaha.  My family is cruel (where do you think I learned it) and they were completely unimpressed by my extenuating circumstances, i.e., I was five and I was sick.  You were afraid of Mr. Chicken.  Hahahaha.  It always comes back to that.  After I grew up and got married, even my husband got in on it.  You were afraid of Mr. Chicken Har har har.  Oh how I have suffered.


Well, guess what?  “The Ghost and Mr. Chicken” is going to be on TV (on the east coast) on Thursday.  Ima record it, ima watch it, and ima put this behind me once and for all.  I will be redeemed.

Except this is my life, so it isn’t that simple.  I went to program the DVR and, oh dear.  Encore (or Starz of whatever it is) is not part of my subscription.  Used to be included in the package.  Not any more.


So I will not be watching “The Ghost and Mr. Chicken.”  Was little Dirtbunny a sad little wimp for being afraid of Mr. Chicken?  Now we’ll never know.

What Has Your Congress Been Doing? H.R. 321, with a tangent on How Things Work in Government and Things in High School That Sucked

What Has Your Congress Been Doing?

The INSPIRE Women Act!  Apparently meant to encourage girls to pursue STEM careers.  A goal I wholeheartedly support, probably more than most of the people who voted for this thing, and certainly more than POTUS.  After all, a fuckable woman is wasted in STEM careers in those ugly lab coats and safety goggles.  A STEM girl, like a B-cup (or smaller) girl, can never be a 10, which is what girls should really aspire to be in Trump’s America.




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Calendario, Mercato, the Euros, Quinto Scudetto, Loooca, and whatever else happens to pop into my disorganized brain


The footy calendar was finally released this week and my life is beginning to have meaning again.  It’s not final, of course, because some of the matches will be on Saturdays, and some on Sundays, and the midweek matches get shuffled round too.  Plus, until UEFA conducts the draws for the European matches and nails down the match dates, the Italian teams involved in that can expect some additional shuffling.  Or it could snow, or more likely, flood.  But this provides the general contours of the season.

Some things jump out at me right away.  There will not be a match on my birthday, there might be a match during my brother’s wedding but it’s only Lazio so who cares, there’s an international break over the Columbus Day weekend so WHATEVER WILL I DO WITH MYSELF?, the last month of matches–Atalanta, Roma, and Bologna away, Crotone at home, and the derby at the J stadium–ought not to be too much of a challenge, aside from Roma.  I’d love to give props to the Toros, but you know what?  They ditched coach Ventura, who made them better than they actually are; they pissed off their good strikers by loaning in new strikers so the good Continue Reading →


I don’t have a lot to say about this.  I’m sure enough a leftie and I’m used to having opinions like mine ridiculed.  I don’t like Mr. Trump.  Never have.  I don’t like what he says.  I don’t like what happens at his events.  I don’t like his many many lies, which have been well-documented by other people and won’t be repeated here.


It is not enough to say that I don’t like what I imagine what the US would be like under a hypothetical President Trump.  I’m worried.  I’m frightened.

I don’t like to compare things to the Nazis.  I get excited sometimes and say stupid things, but I always regret it later.  And I certainly don’t claim to know very much about Weimar Germany and the rise of Hitler.  But if I remember correctly, it all started with talk about jobs and making Germany great again, with people willing to overlook the bad bigoted stuff because they liked the rah-rah rhetoric and the promise of prosperity.  Then, all of a sudden, the world was at war, dissenters of every flavor were rounded up and taken away, and the Holocaust was in full flower and people wondered how it all happened.

I hope I’m wrong, but I see the Trump phenomenon leading us in the same direction.  It has to stop before it gets truly out of control.

Make America great again.  Stop Trump.

Basta! also, Aw HELL no!

It’s hard to cram more than a year of life into a handful of bullet points, especially when one is as wordy as I, but I’m going to try.

  • Ze blog:  I’ve been too depressed to write anything.  Also, my camera is broken and I rely on the photos I take out and about for inspiration.
  • Ze marriage:  Still exists.  There have been numerous petty snafus and some substantial delays attributable to one of the parties not taking care of business in a reasonable fashion.  I’m basically divorced now.  Once it is legal, nothing is going to change in my life.  So why rush?  We have disagreements about the division of assets, but there’s no point in being irritated that this is taking so long.  The ball is in his court.  He’ll get things moving when it becomes important to him.
  • Ze home life:  Tiki died in October.  He never really adjusted to the move, poor little guy.  With Tiki gone, Lucy has developed a brand-new case of separation anxiety.  If I’m not home from work before dark, she barks and barks and barks and barks and barks.  This makes my neighbors v. unhappy.  We’re working on that and it’s getting better.  Lucy still likes to sit in the window and bark at the usual passersby the countless evil Cossack dogs  marauding around the neighborhood and challenging her supremacy.  My apartment is too small and I miss my deck a lot but the TV is better here and I’ve learned that I can leave my yarn lying around wherever I want and Lucy is not going to eat it.  I always believed this was the case, but I was never allowed to test it.
  • Ze health.  Well, I have my therapist every week, my other therapist every other week, my psychiatrist every 6 weeks or sooner if my therapist says so.  On top of that, I’ve got my regular doctor, my foot doctor, my eye doctor, my orthopedist, my dentist, my ENT specialist, my endocrinologist, my audiologist, assorted labs and imaging centers, and trips to the pharmacy about every 10 days.  The last visit, I refilled one prescription and paid $394.  My therapist wants me to add in group therapy and get out and have a social life.  I keep burning myself, either on the oven racks or with my curling iron.  However, all of my numbers are good and I feel like crap all the time because I’m sleep-deprived, not because I’m sick.  This is progress.
  • Ze hair:  My hair has regained the fabulosity it had in my youth.  I suppose all the stress from the bad marriage was making it get brittle and break or fall out.
  • Ze football:  The Zebes won their fourth consecutive last year and are currently in contention for a fifth.  The competition is much closer this year so the matches are more exciting.  We lost some key players during the summer transfer weekend, none of whom can really be replaced.  Andrea Pirlo and Carlos Tevez had good reasons for leaving and I’m OK with that.  No one else in Italy has them either.  Arturo Vidal acted like a tit during the Copa America last summer, including a major drunk driving incident involving a totalled Ferrari and an argument with the arresting officer about how the arrest would be devastating for the Chilean prospects.  He got favorable terms (of course) and Chile won the copa.  Some new players came in too, and a few of them are awesome.
  • Ze hott:  Calcio is still packed with beautiful men, and I sill have a particular weakness for goalkeepers.  Some of the baby keepers are positively luscious.
  • Ze boyfriend:  Right now I’m watching this week’s match against Atalanta, and my boyfriend scored a goal in the run of play!   That’s not his thing.  He’s a defender who doesn’t score goals and doesn’t get red cards.  At age 34, he’s supposed to be in decline.  He’ll be 35 in May and he’s out of contract this summer.  Will Juve re-sign him?  They should.  He is still playing at a world-class level and the fans adore him.
  • Ze job:  The same as always.

Now that we are all up to date, let’s get to the real reason for this post.  So there’s this assignment I wanted.  It likely would have been mine according to longstanding practice and it made a lot of sense to give it to me for reasons that are far too boring to discuss.  But NO!  They gave it to an attorney in our office who we generally describe with words like “Officious prick,” “condescending asshole,” “how dare he/she/it!,” “weasel,” “manipulative twat,” “he/she/it has no idea what he/she/it is talking about,” and I could go on but you get the point.

So I was passed over in favor of the weasel.  Things have now gotten to the point where I (a) have to fight for primacy of place against someone who is so clearly beneath me and (b) I lose that fight.  OMG.  How much lower can I go?

No lower, I decided.  Today is the lowest I will ever get.  I can wallow in my misery and victimhood, or I can snap out of it and put my life back together.  If the wallowing path leads to having to compete with the weasel then I choose the other way.


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Dirtbunny is back

I’ve been meaning to come back with a BANG! but waiting for inspiration and opportunity to coincide hasn’t gotten me very far, so I’m just going to come back with a hiya.  Until I locate the USB cord for my camera, don’t expect any new photos from Chez Moi.


So.  The last year.  Let me explain.


No.  There is too much.  Let me sum up.


I spent two months last summer in the booby hatch where I learned that a great many things in my life at home that I had gotten used to were also seriously warped and disturbing to people who weren’t living with it.  Off I went into the wonderful real world, fresh and excited, with a bit of confidence that hadn’t been there before, and finally realizing my own value and talents.  And that shifted the dynamic at home, so things got worse.  So we went into counseling, then some unfortunate stuff not involving the relationship happened and things got even worse and by the time the snow stopped coming things were so bad that our counselor fired us because we were getting worse rather than better.

I was back to being severely depressed and he shut down so completely that we almost never spoke.  Finally, instead of trying to figure out what was wrong with me so I could give him what he wanted, I asked myself what I wanted.  And the answer is that I want something that I can never get from him.  If I am going to be alone and desperately lonely, I would rather be that way because there is no one else in the house than because there is someone else in the house who won’t engage with me and literally leaves the room when I walk in.  So Lucy and Tiki and I moved into a one-bedroom apartment nearby.



It’s been tough.  Tiki has been sick and I’ve had a beastly case of tendonitis and there’s the boxes and chaos and piles of crap lying around and never knowing where anything is that goes along with moving.  But it’s all good.  I can take care of myself. I can pump my own gas and take out my own garbage and walk my own dogs and, well, everything.  I’ve been doing it since I was 17 after all.

I am about 95% unpacked now.  I’ve given away about ten boxes of clothes and books and knick-knacks and I don’t remember what-all and it turns out that my completely unspecial compact disc collection is worth $130 at the used record store.  I have relocated all my important documents and recreated my filing system, and I am making significant progress in getting my money de-commingled from Mr D’s money.

The bottom line is that all of this is really good news.  I was desperately unhappy and I had 15 years of proof that it was never going to get any better no mater what I did, because absolutely none of our problems had anything to do with me.  I wish I had been healthy enough to figure this out sooner.   I’m very angry about all the years I wasted learning that lesson.  This has shaken my faith in my own intuition a LOT, but I keep reminding myself that it’s extraordinarily reliable and the only reason it wasn’t working this time (or rather that I chose to ignore it when it was working) is that I so badly wanted it to be wrong.



I’m not thinking much about the scary future.  I have divorce-related business I have to tend to and I have a lot to make up at work and responsibilities to my canine family and I need time for the impact of this huge change to sink in and time to reconnect with all the friends I’ve neglected.  And find the USB cable to my camera and my IRA statements and figure out how to buy groceries for one person instead of for an army of big eaters (or one big eater and one person with an eating disorder).  And figure out how to pill Tiki without splattering peanut butter or whatever all over the place.



So I’ve mostly finished a post about the last year or so to bring everyone up to date, but stuff happened today and I’m angry and likely to be inappropriate.  We’ll come back to that later. Instead, you get a minipost.


The beagles and I went to the Petsmart today because they needed new tags and I needed a gallon of Nature’s Miracle.  While we were there, we went up and down all the dog aisles looking for promising foods that Tiki might eat.  (I’ll explain later.)  Lucy behaved like you would expect, attempting to steal anything attractive off the lower shelves whenever she had the chance.  As I spent a little time in the incontinence aisle, I noticed something.  Beagles.  Everywhere.  One of the brands of pee pads has a beagle on its packaging.  Doggie diapers?  Beagles on the packaging.  A brand of stain remover?  Beagles.  And up front, you can now rent a gigantic steam cleaner for your carpet and on the poster?




By the way, the cashiers have a box of treats under each register.  By the time I finished checking out, Lucy had located the treats and buried nearly her whole head in the box.  Bad girl.  Everyone else thought she was “cute.”


Dirtbunny is in Trouble Again

I’m pretty sure I mentioned that I went to the psychiatrist on Thursday.  I saw one of my three therapists this afternoon and calls were made and messages were left and now I have been summoned to my psychiatrist’s office for an early appointment tomorrow.    I JUST saw her.  It’s like she knows about the unspoken thoughts in my head.  Tricking me into going to the hospital is one thing, but how did she manage to get a surveillance chip into my brain to monitor my thoughts?  I think I ought to pack a week’s worth of meds and a change of clothes, just in case.

P.S.  Juve beat Roma yesterday with an unexpected Marchisio-style goal from, of all people, the rarely-scoring Leonardo Bonucci in the 85th minute.  I know how to pick ’em, I certainly do.


This is him celebrating his goal in Azzurro against Norway last month (another rarity).  I couldn’t be bothered to look for a current photo tonight, but this is what he does when he scores.  It looks like mouth full o’ spooge to me, but it apparently has some sort of shut your mouth, stop talkin’ smack about the Bonucci not scoring no goals meaning.  Same fuzzy hair.  Same eyebrows.  Same pursed lips and puffed cheeks.  Different colored stripes.  Oh I’m a lucky lucky girl with all my glorious Zebee defenders.

This post powered by befuddlement.  Seriously.  What does she want with me?  She can’t really know what I’ve been thinking.  How is that possible?

Not So Fast There, Dirtbunny

Crap, crap, and crap.  So I’ve been back at work for about a month now and the work itself is going fine and the adjustment is going better than expected and there were some predictable rough spots because it’s still the same place it has always been.  On Thursday, I hear about some shit that’s gone down and, well, that’s disappointing but not really surprising,  and I find out that no one has picked up the Kumbaya project I tried to start last spring and, well, that’s disappointing but not really surprising.  And I’m driving to the psychiatrist in the beautiful afternoon sunshine and I’m congratulating myself on how well I’m handling this.  It’s not in my head.  I’m not ruminating, I’m not speech-writing, I’m barely even thinking about this.  I have made so much progress.  I am awesome.

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Way Behind on the Football

Yeah.  So going back to work and making 18 medical appointments per week, plus trying to watch 32 hours of football, and plowing through the National Film Registry, she is starting to wear on Dirtbunny, and Dirtbunny is paying for it in zee blog.  So today you get some stuff from Matchdays 4 and 5 so we’ll be sort of caught up with football before the Zebes set foot on the pitch at the Vicente Calderón.


Cesena is a newly-promoted team that we kind of like because it’s an underdog, because it gave Vincenzo Iaquinta a couple months of work, it gave us Emanuele Giaccherini, its nickname is the seahorses (aw), and it is currently training one of Juve’s baby keepers, Nicola Leali.  Now that’s all well and good, but we still should beat them handily, especially at home, and we did.

Juventus - Cesena

Cesena started out very busily with three handballs in the box in the first 17 minutes.  You could possible excuse the first one.  The second one was a blatant intentional handball and a penalty no-call.  The third one may or not have been worthy of a penalty, but Mr. Giacomelli awarded one, and Arturo Vidal converted, as he almost always does. Continue Reading →