No triviality too banal.

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 →


That didn’t last long at all

Yesterday was a great day.  I wrote something awesome that I’m proud of and I got lots of affirmation and love in return.


Today sucked.   It was not a work day.  All I had to do today was make a few phone calls and go to therapy.  Everything else was Bunny Fun Free time and I was rarin’ to go.  I need to do a little shoppin’, I gotta a little weekend footie action to catch up on, it’s a good day to sit outside with a Graham Greene novel, maybe cook a little, change the sheets (since my mind meld with Mr. D seems to be broken and it’s time for a night without dog hair up my nose), do some knittin’, or whatevs my highly imaginative, if partly dead, brain could devise.  That is not how it worked out.

JuveALeagueADPGigiPirloThe Greatest of the Great Juventini, Alessandro Del Piero, the Greatest Goalkeeper of All Time With The Possible Exception of Dino Zoff, Gianluigi Buffon, and the Regista of All Registas, Andrea Pirlo, reunited last summer for an exhibition match in Oz.  Little impresses Mr. Pirlo, but ADP does.  He’s one of the few who can challenge Pirlo in a dead ball situation, and Pirlo gives respect where respect is due, cos he’s got class.

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Dirtbunny’s Summer Retreat: The Rest of the Story

I’ve been hinting and teasing and sort-of-not-really disclosing about my deal for a long time.  I missed a good chunk of work this summer, but now I’m working again a bit.  The people I work with are a good bunch, but pretty much all of us are introverts, and the environment isn’t exactly glowing with warmth from the fire of mutual affection.  Or maybe it is and I just don’t know it because I have isolated myself so completely.  As there are everwhere, we have one or two people who live for being The One In The Know and are not above making shit up when they know something is going on but known nothing about it.  Today was my first big public day back, the first day when everyone would see me, and a good time to start coming up with a good story to explain Where Dirtbunny Has Been so you could be The One In The Know if that’s your inclination.

Juventus - UdineseSometimes Gigi Buffon finds himself having to explain very basic concepts to his defenders.  This annoys him.  It would annoy me too.

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Ginormous Changes Chez Dirtbunny

OK.  So Dirtbunny went away for a few months, where she discovered that she is one sick, but fixable, puppy.  Oh yeah, the world is still irrevocably fucked up and nobody seems to see it, but it’s not my imagination, and the things that make me “weird,” the way I see connections and patterns and trends that other people can’t, the way I can spot generally-accepted things that make no fucking sense, the foolish idealistic streak that leads me to think that if people just sat down and talked through problems in good faith everything would be fine?  My willingness to do the Norma Rae thing?  Hell, my willingness to do the right thing just because someone ought to at least try to do the right thing?  My empathic sense?  My intuitiveness?  My special ability to cut through all the red herrings and see the point?  My special and rare combination of left brain and right brain attributes?  That stuff all makes me a natural leader, only society only recognizes the sort of conventional leadership that it always has which is why the same sort of people always end up running things and make the same sorts of decisions that create the same sort of bullshit.  Which is why we are sending  U.S. military aid into a politically and morally ambiguous situation in the Middle East AGAIN knowing full well that the odds are pretty damn good that all the guns and bombs meant to kill bad guys, and all the soldiers we train to kill bad guys, all of it is going to end up killing good guys, and possibly even us, in 3-5 years, BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT HAPPENED IN AFGHANISTAN, THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED IN IRAQ IN THE 2000’S, THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED IN IRAQ IN THE 1990’S, THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED IN LEBANON, NICARAGUA, VIET NAM.  Must I go on?  So I’m happy to be weird, thank you, and I’m OK with seeing and noticing things that most people don’t, and I’m not ashamed to be idealistic or to have principles even if those ideals and principles lead me not to support the annual charity drive at work.  “You don’t support the Combined Federal Campaign?  OMG!  It’s such a good cause!  And you do it on principle?  How weird!”

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Dirtbunny is not dead, although her camera might be

It takes an army of highly-trained medical professionals to deal with Dirtbunny and all her weirdness, and what we’ve learned recently is that is it possible that she is not beyond help.  It’s no surprise that her mind is officially highly warped and demented, but here’s what is a surprise.  That alter ego?  The one with the desk job in an unfeeling bureaucracy, the soccer mom haircut, and the 100 pounds of self-hatred?  Dirtbunny has always been told that person is the dominant person and Dirtbunny is the unwanted, intrusive other personality.





It’s the Dirtbunny who is real.  That other person is what happens after decades of constant re-education along the lines of Dirtbunny is very very bad and everyone’s problems would be solved if only she would just learn to be good, i.e., not be such a bitch, i.e., not be such a Dirtbunny.  I HAVE BEEN OPPRESSED!  The medical term is “severe sustained stress.”  That’s right, bitchez.  Allowing yourself to be persuaded that your authentic self is bad and then actually trying to be someone else practically your whole life will fuck you up.   I am OK exactly the way I am and I know this because a variety of other crazy people and mental health professionals say I am The Bomb.


I am lucky in that Dirtbunny was never successfully killed off and managed to eke out a meager existence in force her way angrily into the imagination of Shut Up Girl, where she kept up a colorful imaginary existence.  She doesn’t have to wander around suburbia and wonder where she is like she’s been buried in a time capsule or something.


Yeah, so the work is ongoing.  Being brilliant, Dirtbunny realizes that the world cannot handle a full-on Dirtbunny, and that she will have to socialize some of her urges, especially as regards things and persons that/who are stupid, because prison is something generally to be avoided.  Shut Up Girl is like English Ivy.  She gots roots and runners all over the place so you may think you have ripped her out, but you have to be ever vigilant to make sure she isn’t trying to sneak back in and take over again.


And the blog?  Isn’t it cute how I pretend that there is actually someone out there reading this that I didn’t have to beg and prod to come here?   If you don’t want to be here, then go away.  I don’t want to be lied to and you have better things to do with your time.  Oh yeah.  I don’t know what happens to the blog.  I like to write.  I don’t always have handy topics or photos I can use.  My immediate market for footie stuff is basically gone, and the movies thing is fun for me but apparently horribly dull for everyone else,  assuming there is anyone else.  There’s the doggies and the yarn, there’s the recovery, oh there’s plenty of stuff, but I put myself out there and make myself vulnerable and don’t even know whether anyone is reading except for marketing robots.  I’ve been giving chunks of myself away and that’s fine, but if I decide that what I get out of it doesn’t make up for what I put into it, I’m probably going to give this up entirely so I can throw myself at other uninterested people.