Inside the mind of a person with a mood disorder

I was going to run the dishwasher. If I don't run the dishwasher, then the dishes will be dirty when The Man comes home, and he will spend the evening fussing over the dishes and I will be lonely and resentful. However, there is no detergent under the sink. There is supposed to be detergent under the sink. Well I'm not going down to the basement to see if there is a backup box of detergent. Cleaning supply replenishment from the basement is The Man's job. So the dishes won't get clean. So what? At least, when I am lonely and resentful and sulking about it, I'll have my ideological purity to keep me warm.



OK. I went down to the basement and retrieved a backup box of detergent (there were two, because Dirtbunny is exceptionally skilled at keeping the household well stocked, not that anyone notices or appreciates it). And I ran the dishwasher. Because I am a sheep. And a good soldier. A fucking good soldier and a fucking team player. Not that it ever got me anything.


Not that anyone cares. [sniff sniff]


[Dirtbunny goes off to weep and sulk anyway]

Nobody likes me

Everybody hates me

Going to the garden

To eat worms

Big fat squishy ones

Big long skinny ones.....

[I forget the rest]

An American call-up

As promised. Tim Howard, Goalkeeper for the US national team and for Everton in the Premiere League. Please to note that the Everton jersey advertises beer and includes two elephants in its logo. Dirtbunny likes elephants. Dirtbunny likes goalkeepers. Tim Howard is plenty good enough to join the side. He's in.

This just in

Prosecco is good. That is all.

Martedi dramaz

1. For the first time in ages, I did not anticipate the alarm going off, so it scared the crap outta me, and I hit the snooz twice.
2. Could not find decent bra. Had to settle for second-string bra. Going without not an option. (ewwww. bad mental image)
3. Sore back again. Hard time getting at my feet, and grateful that they are size ELEVEN and not size two or something.
4. Therapy. Ugh.
5. At work, receive comment from buddy about the blog. She mentions the hot guys, although that's not what she's there to discuss. Afterwards, Bunny's mind drifts (where else?) to ADP transfer rumors.
6. Dirtbunny reaches a decision: This is her first summer transfer window as a tifosa, and she has no experience in separating credible rumors from bullshit agents talking smack on behalf of clients who want more euros. Thinking about her favorite players going to different teams is incredibly upsetting *but see Capi to Juve, which was rare good news. Bunny does not need the stress. Bunny cannot affect the outcome. Bunny decides to stop looking at transfer gossip on the web. Checking in with three favorite fan sites=ok. Periodic checks of television schedules, WCQ standings, and FIFA world rankings=ok. Occasional glances at schedules to see when Champions League draw happens and when new Serie A season schedule is posted=ok. Carefully following Goal.com through every crappy link on every crappy "news" story that mentions any of the dirtbunnies=not ok. If anything important happens, officially and for real, then The Man will tell her.
7. Take Tiki to vet for bordatella vaccine, heartworm test, and flea stuff refills. Kirby comes too. He hides under the bench while we wait for Tiki. Much tangling up of Dirtbunny in the two leashes.
8. Make post-vet trip to dog bakery for post-vet treats. Kirby sees too many people enjoying the afternoon on the sidewalk outside Starbucks (the gross one we shun because it is disorganized and grubby, not the nice one near the nail salon), and he slips his collar and bolts. Bunny chases Kirby down, scoops him up, and carries him into dog bakery whilst juggling handbag and squirming Tiki pulling on his leash. Many teenagers freshly sprung from high school watch with interest from the gross Starbucks. Dog treats are purchased, and Tiki doesn't even pee on anything in the dog bakery. Bunny figures that Kirby will walk peacefully to the car because he will be eager to go home. She is wrong. Kirby slips his collar and makes for the nearest dark-colored car to hide under. Bunny catches him just before he goes under, whilst juggling handbag and squirming Tiki pulling on leash. Teenagers enjoy act two as much as they enjoyed act one. Dirtbunny thinks she must seem very very old and sad to them.
9. On drive home, idiot in Honda decorated with too many bumper stickers---wait. More than one bumper sticker is too many. Let's be more accurate.
10. Ahem. On drive home, idiot in Honda decorated with well over a dozen bumper stickers espousing left-wing political beliefs puts turn signal on as if to turn right. (Why am I telling you this?) Because she doesn't turn. She just goes to the intersection at the bottom of a very steep hill and stops there, in the middle of the road, on the main drag, with the right of way, to let another car approaching on a side street WITH A STOP SIGN cross over. SHE PUTS HER SIGNAL ON AS IF TO TURN, AND THEN SHE JUST STOPS IN TRAFFIC AT THE BOTTOM OF A VERY STEEP HILL, probably to "spread love and kindness" or commit a random act of kindness, or whatever, without regard for the lives behind her (me and The Boys and the several cars behind us). Kindness for one sort of person means serious risk of death for others. Grrr.
11. Manage to get home alive, offload dogs and dog supplies, and head out again for the Glutton Place, because I have a hankerin for Spaghetti e cippolle, and we need cippolle, as well as celery and bananas. Have a good time at the store. Snag second to last piece of Piave Vecchio (yum) and am about to buy some Barbera d'Alba when wine guy clues me in on big wine sale on Saturday (30% off any 12 bottles or more, mix or match). Do you have any idea what that would mean? At 30% off, my second-favorite $6.99 Barbera would be, well, super-cheap! Thanks, wine guy! Bunny decides to go home and taste test bottle of Prosecco to see if we like it. If we do, we'll stock up.
12. Arrive home, unpack groceries, and give dogs the treat we got at dog bakery. For a little while, am revered as a goddess.
13. Go down to the basement, turn on wireless, check on laundry (still wet from yesterday) and settle down for lunch: almonds and Piave Vecchio. It is 4 pm.
14. There will not be spaghetti e cippolle for dinner. We are having rotini with porcini sauce. Spaghetti e cippolle takes too long.
15. Oooh. I forgot the best part. This morning, while commuting, I dropped a size zero double pointed knitting needle into the abyss under the car seat. I asked The Man to please look for it a little when we stopped to drop him off. Not only did he successfully locate the needle I dropped, he also located another needle I must have dropped long ago and gave up on. I'm a knitting needle millionaire!
16. The Azzurri beat the Americans yesterday in a most satisfactory game--oops, I mean match. I have decided to call up an American player to FC Dirtbunny (but not Landon Donovan. He's a wanker.) I have also decided to forgive Giuseppe Rossi for having been born in New Jersey and for playing in Spain but calling himself "Italian." I have not forgiven him for shining so brightly and performing so wonderfully as the Azzurri second striker, because that is ADP's job. He is welcome to it when ADP retires, but not before.
17. Laundry is probably dry now, so I'm steeling myself up for another trip to [gasp] The Basement. Wish me luck.

Everything is Normal

La la la. Happy happy happy. No problems here. No obsessing is being done. Just thinkin about stuff that makes me happy. La la la.



Panooch credibly wearing a tie:



Man-love, Czech-style, starring Petr Cech and Zdenek Grygera:

Naughty, naughty boy:

Happy smurfs in training (left to right: Loooca, Davide Santon [18 years old, getting his first caps], Sleepy and Gian, Simone Pepe [I'm still waiting to be persuaded that he is Azzurri material], Fabi [avec sideburns of shame], and Nicki [out of focus]):

Sleepy and Gigi, all wet, and super-cool, as usual:

Smurfs, smurfs, smurfs (Sleepy [smiling instead of brooding], Nicki [hairs blowing in the wind] Gian [yes, I can tell even though all you can see are ear plus sideburn], Santon again [being very serious, trying to prove himself to the big boys], and Capi [with dimples and eye twinkling]):

Gigi, flirting with photographers (and Dirtbunny) at the airport, now with extra man-purse [Why? I repeat: Why?]:

Bath boy getting ready to shake:

Mr. June, wearing his massage pants and rowing the sand:

Don't believe me? Take a closer look:

That boat is on the beach. Silly Loooca.

Sun-loving friend Sammy, warming his pink spotted belly:

Milanistas Daniele Bonera and Giuseppe Favalli, pretending to be Dolce & Gabbana models:

[Handsome, but silly at the same time. I guess I just don't get fashion.]






And Rino, en fuego, as usual:

rrrrrrrr. May he kick some American butt today, and I'm sorry if that makes me a bad American, but the heart wants what it wants.

.

.

[ewww, channeling Woody Allen rationalizations. Plz send help]

Go to your quiet place

Yeah, like I'm not still obsessing over transfer rumors.



Even if ADP came to play in DC (and why would he when China and Spain undoubtedly could pay him better), and even if he moved in next door (and why would he want a crappy 60-year-old colonial with no garage, a crappy yard, and crazy loud Dirtbunny neighbors), it would be bad.



Real-life ADP: golf-playing, bad-haircut-getting, NBA-loving, man-purse-carrying, married-with-children.





Imaginary boyfriend ADP: none of the above, bears at best only a passing resemblance to real-life ADP's carefully-managed public image.



We have learned from "Back to the Future," "Harry Potter," etc. that time travel is not to be messed with cuz bad stuff happens.


Imaginary boyfriend ADP, perfect as he is, must never meet real-life ADP-next-door with family and flaws, or some sort of breach in the space-time continuum would ...., it would......, I dunno, something bad would happen. Something really bad.


ADP must stay in Italy.


This is all crap anyway, right? This is just his agent trying to set up a strong negotiating position, right?

Luca Lunedi

Screw it. Who can think about Loooca when ADP's agent is upsetting us all with vague statements such as (to paraphrase) "His contract is up soon, and if you don't want him, there are plenty who do."

Here is one such statement:

http://www.channel4.com/sport/football_italia/jun15g.html






Here is another:




http://www.goal.com/en/news/10/italy/2009/06/15/1325791/juventus-icon-alessandro-del-piero-tempted-by-la-primera



Here is the sound of Bunny's head hitting the floor when she passes out:





[thunk!]





Spain?





China?





MLS?





The only possible non-Bianconeri solution is for him to sign with DC United. The house next door is for sale, hovel that it is. He could live here practically incognito because no one gives a shi--oops--hoot, yeah, no one gives a hoot about futbol. But even that (although good for my relationship with ADP) would be the kiss of death for his career.



And if he did move in next door, I'd have to cut down all those expensive bushes so I could spy on him more effectively--oops--I mean so we could swap recipes over the fence more easily. Kirby likes to escape over there. Maybe I could stop discouraging that behavior. "Kirby! Where'd you go little fella? Kirby! Oh hi neighbor. Seems my little explorer has crossed over again. I'm looking for him. That's why I'm creeping around under your windows. Have you seen my little buddy?"





Nay! It is bad! Bad!



[thunk thunk thunk!]

Luca Lunedi

Mr. February:



This one is clearly more about the car than the calciotorre.


OK, I just made that word up.


Ahem. Anyway, do you think there's enough leg room in that little roadster for him? It's a nice-looking car. I'd feel really bad if I scraped that car on a parking garage pylon.

FC Dirtbunny update

So yesterday, a team of Azzurri juniors and second-stringers met Northern Ireland in an international friendly. The Azzurri won handily 3-nil on goals by, well, it's a long story.



1. One goal by Rossi, the Azzurri from Teaneck, NJ who plays in Spain. His Jersey-ness detracts from his Azzurri-ness every time they mention it, which they do a lot, since they are broadcasting to an American audience and assume that we will love him more if they keep harping on the fact that he's not Italian. He is a good player however, only that is bad for ADP because he plays the same position as ADP.



2. One goal by Foggia, who is evil because he plays for Lazio, which is evil because it is the most fascist team in Italy. And by that, I do not mean, woah Man your bogus rules are fascist. I mean fascist as in political fascists, the party of Mussolini, and proud of it. Also, Lazio beat the Bianconeri twice in the Coppa Italia.



3. One goal by Serge Pelissier, who scored a hat trick against the Bianconeri for the Flying Donkeys. Despite myself, I find myself liking the donkeys even though the Bianconeri should have beaten them.







I have three other things to say about the game.



1. Rino played. He is coming off a long injury. God how I love him! Watching him scramble around the pitch made my heart all warm and happy.





2. How pretty is Federico Marchetti anyway and how come I haven't noticed him before?


3. Fabi's new sideburns are an abomination, even by Italian standards. I hereby sentence him to tonsorial rehab. He can continue to train with the Dirtbunnies but he gets no playing time and can't sit next to me on the bench until he gets his facial hair sorted out. It hurts me to have to impose discipline, but some things are just flat-out unacceptable.




The Azzurri have another friendly this week against New Zealand, and then they start the confederations cup next week, at which point the seniors will presumably play, although not ADP, because Marcello Lippi is an idiot.

Stuppid

[look it up on Bunny's FAQ]



So two weeks ago, Professor The Man was at Pork Barrel University and at some point early on during that week, Dirtbunny's answering machine kicked the bucket. Ever since, we have been meaning to get a new one. We know we can get a really good one for lots of money at the big box electronic store, but that means driving and crazy parking garages and escalators and all of those commercial-experience things that give Dirtbunny anxiety attacks.

Or we could get an inexpensive one at the local Radio Shack, and not be entirely sure of the quality of what we get.



Or we could sign up for voicemail through the Phone Company, but I suspect that will cost us $5 per month plus maybe another $8 per month in inexplicable fees and taxes, and I'm opposed to giving more money to the Phone Company, especially if I don't know what my billing statement means.


So we have been dithering. We almost went out for one yesterday, but Dirtbunny had a case of the vapors and had to retire to her boudoir. Whilst asleep, Dirtbunny had a dream. A wonderful dream about an answering machine. In which Dirtbunny examined an answering machine and saw that it had an "on/off" switch.

Dirtbunny retained that dream (most of them go off into the ether once she wakes up). And this morning Dirtbunny asked herself, I wonder she sez does our answering machine have an on/off switch? She disconnected the machine from the wall and flipped it over. Nope nothing on the back but nine years of dust. Nothing on the sides except volume controls. Oh well. It was worth a shot.


Dirtbunny put the machine down on the kitchen counter and looked at the face of the machine one last time. There sure are a lot of unnecessary buttons and switches on the front, that's for sure.


Wait!

Oh. My. God.


A button labeled on/off.


Could it be?

Bunny presses the button. The answering machine indicator lights up. There is a message! Dirtbunny plays the message. The answering machine works. Shopping trip is unnecessary, and answering-machine money can now be spent on vet bills or yarn.

I haven't felt this dumb since I started taking the wrong pills and made myself seriously sick for a week.

Life without futbol

......sucks. Seriously. I actually watched 30 seconds of "According to Jim" last night before The Man pried the remote from my catatonic hands and sent me to bed.

Luca Lundei

His protests are magnificent, remember?







Also, news flash. If That Wanker, Iaquinta, has---oh----10,000 or so more games like the last few he's had for the Bianconeri, it is possible, maybe, that Dirtbunny might allow him to rehabilitate himself. Maybe. For now, he's That Wanker*.