November 7
I'm talking to my weeping grandmother, I'll have you know...
How is it that I wound up with mean, hateful rabbits? I mean, who's ever heard of a MEAN rabbit? And yet, every morning, as I reach my hand into the cage to feed them (heh, new tentative names: Grr and Eek) the brown one (Grr*, for reasons that'll become apparent in like two words) lunges forward GROWLING and kicking his (her?) little paws out. Growling. A rabbit. S/he bites, too. Precious. The other rabbit (Eek, see?) huddles in the corner, backing away from my deadly hand and making itself as tiny as possible. I can not imagine what I've done to deserve these Bad Personality rabbits. Man. Also, my dogs have decided that they're terrifying. The rabbits, I mean. Not the dogs. I can not say whether or not the dogs believe themselves to be terrifying, but really, other than their stench and ability to coat me in fur when they're not anywhere nearby, they're not too scary.
Anyhow, rabbits typically do a little chasing around the cage. It's fun! They're playing. My dogs are used to this. Or, they were. The fact that they're suddenly all freaked out that there are rabbits in the house making noise should have been the first sign that there is something seriously wrong with this particular SET of rabbits. Even their play is a little evil. Celeste and Isabelle spent all of their time humping. These rabbits? Chase one another around and BITE. EACHOTHER!! They race in circles around the cage, smashing into the walls, thumping, making weird noises and biting. FORGET trying to pick them up. Jesus christ, you'd think I was taking them out to their certain death. The brown one (Grr, heh!)flails and scraches and FREAKS OUT more intensely than I have ever seen an animal freak out for ANY REASON OTHER THAN IMMEDIATE DEATH. You should know, too, that the freaking out about being picked up thing happened long before Grr (heh!) started to GROWL and BITE at feeding time. I took my cue from it--don't like to be picked up? Okay, I won't pick you up, so it's not like I tortured it into biting.
I believe firmly that an animal you feed and care for should not bite you, and should certainly not GROWL at you. Sadly, if this shit continues, Grr may find his/herself navigating the streets of New Haven solo. Don't bite me, man!
*I already know that Grr is the name of the dog on Invader Zim. Yep, I do!
I'm not embarrassed to admit (well, maybe a little embarrassed) that I've been shopping like a maniac this week. I can't even exactly say why I've been doing it, just that I have. On Saturday, I went to three malls. Three. People, that's just not right. I do love a good mall trip, it's true, but three is sort of obscene. The reason for the three mall thing was pretty simple: I was after a certain pair of shoes. The timeline was sort of like this:
1.) Filenes in Mall #1: See shoes. Ask for them in range of sizes (8-9) in any of three colors (tan, brown, light blue). Am presented with color I like least in unaceptable size (9: way too big). Make decision to go to Filenes at...
2.) Filenes in Mall #2: See shoes in only light blue. Ask for them in 8.5. Am presented with a size 9, and the option of buying floor model. I consider that, as I run off to Macy's, which is down the hall. They have the shoes in brown, in only a size 1. Back to Filene's. I decide that I will take the light blue shoes and additionally, I will shop for some sassy boots to wear with my wedding outfit. I gather together all of these boots to try on, when the fire bells start going off. I, along with every other woman in the store, totally ignore the alarm, and the possibility of a fiery death, all because there's a great shoe sale going on! When the taped "EVACUATE THE BUILDING" begins playing, and I notice all of the sales people gathering their shit, I leave. By this time, I am committed to these blue shoes, and decide to wait until a.) the building burns down or b.) we're allowed back in.
The fireman show up and run around the building. It takes 45 minutes for them to determine that there's no fire, it was a false alarm, and for them to let us all back in.
I make a beeline for my little pile of boots (heh, also: I was the first person inside, it would have been an ideal time for me to go on a stealing spree). I try about 3 pair and finally settle for one. (important: I can't really walk in them, but decide that they look cute, and I won't be doing too much walking...) I take them, along with the blue suede shoes (did I mention that the shoes are suede? They're suede. And blue. That's right) up to the register and the girl rings me out. $147. I am a little confused, because all of the boots I'd tried on were in the $39.99-59.99 range. EXCEPT, of course, the ones I chose. They were $99.99. I express a little astonishment, but the salesperson ignores me, saying that I'll look great in them, once I finally get past that whole staggering around like a drunkard thing (kidding, that's actually what I said to her: "100 dollars for boots I CAN'T EVEN WALK IN?!") She never gives me the opportunity to back out of the sale, clearly beliving that I'm a sucker. I decide to go to:
3.) Mall #3, to return the $99.99 boots. See? I'm not THAT much of a sucker, AND, they've got the shoes I wanted, the blue suede ones I bought IN BLACK!! Not only that, they're in my size. I buy them, return the $99.99 boots, and we're all good to go. Except, sadly, that I still have no wedding boots. I take care of that the next day at DSW: the GIANT DISCOUNT SHOE WAREHOUSE. At the GIANT DISCOUNT SHOE WAREHOUSE, I am unable to decide between boots I can't quite zip (to myself: "Whatever, who's going to be looking at the insides of my legs?! They look good from the OUTSIDE, and that's what counts...") and a pair of cool looking heels. I buy them both.
That's right. I bought 4 pair (well 5, but one pair were returned) of shoes this weekend. I won't even get into the other stuff I bought. I SAID I was embarrassed, didn't I? I am. Truly.
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