Bunnies and Hairs

So, you know what I like? Bunnies!

Why hello. I'm a cute little bunny...



Airplane ears...



Oh! What's up there?

Now, I'm hoping that, by now, you are wondering what sort of medium these cute little buns are coming to you on. The answer is much better than Ink-On-Paper or Charcoal-on-Canvas. The answer is this: My-New-Bunny-Shirt:

I saw this in a store, and before I knew what I was doing, I was hopping up to the counter to check out. I may have also had a cocktail before I bought it... And I shall wear it muchly! I actually think it's quite classy.



Bunny and Bunny Shirt

You know what I don't like? My new haircut (and no, I'm not going to show you pictures). Today, I decided I would go get a new haircut for our CD Release Show (which is this coming weekend), but I was stupid and cheaped-out and went to Hair Cuttery. Now, I'm still trying to figure out if I look more like Mrs. Brady or Bobby Brady. I cried for like two hours after I got home. So, I must now find time during this insanely busy week to get my hair re-cut (and, hopefully, fixed).

Oy. Maybe I should just wear my bunny shirt around my head like a turban.

Nicknames

Today on Dooce.com, "The Dooce" (Heather Armstrong) was discussing nicknames and where "Dooce" came from because it is almost the 10-year anniversary of the website. She asked for comments on what people's nicknames are. That got me thinking about the nicknames I've had in the past, and the nicknames I have now. So, here are all the ones I can think of:

-"Ryannie": My parents called me this for awhile as a kid. My mom says it with a West Virginia accent. My dad actually sometimes still calls me this.

-"RyanBee": In elementary school, there were two Ryan's in my grade. So, we each got the distinction of being distinguished by our last name initials. SO, for years, everyone called me "Ryan B." But the way people said it made it sound like it was all one word: "Ryanbee." I don't know why they didn't just call me "Girl Ryan" or "Ryan Sans Penis" or something... (the other Ryan was a boy...)

-"RJ": I remember trying to make people call me this (my middle initial is J) in elementary school, but it never stuck. I thought it sounded cool...

-"Rye Bread": I frickin' hate this one. This girl started calling me this in 3rd grade, and I HATED it... Especially cuz I hate Rye Bread.

-"Sneezy Head": I have kinda fluffy hair. In middle and high school, when I wasn't using conditioner (yes, I already know I failed Girl 101), my hair was QUITE fluffy. So, when people would hug me, they usually got a face-full of fluff. My mom dubbed me "Sneezy-Head" as a result.

-"Booger": Another one from my mom. Just 'cause. My sister's counterpart nickname is "Rotten." I think hers is nicer than mine...

-"Babas": When I got to college, life started anew. All students were assigned email addresses as freshman based on their first initial, middle initial, and first four letters of their last name, so mine was rjbaba@wm.edu (This is inactive, so don' try sending shit to it). People were amused by the "baba" part of mine, I guess. So, I became "Babas." Funny thing is, Chris called me that for awhile before we became "an item." It's actually pretty weird to think of that now.

-"Bert": This one is hilarious (to me, at least!) Chris and I and some of our good friends went on a Spring Break trip to Memphis, TN freshman year of college (Chris and I were not yet "an item" at this point). One of my good friends (who was my bandmate, my roommate for two years, and my all-around partner-in-crime), who I call "Parker," pretty much planned the trip, and I think we sat together on the bus most of the way back (and yes, we took a Greyhound. 22 hours there, 13 hours back to Southwest VA. Oy. That's a whole other story...). Anyways, we were cracked-out on no sleep and probably too much coffee, and we invented a language, which we dubbed "Bertian." The way you speak "Bertian" is to add the word "Bert" onto the end of words. So the bus would have been "Bus-Bert!" And there's a sort of way you're supposed to say it, but it's hard to explain. Let's just say that it always has an exlamation point on the end! I believe I laughed for like 3-hours straight at "Bertian." After that, I became, simply, "Bert." I'm sure Parker will be mortified if she ever reads this. :)

-"Ryan-Loo": My good friend Jared always calls people (actually, usually females) "Insert-Name-Here-Loo."

-"Toast," "Toasty," "Toaster": This one is pretty amusing too. My friend Gina is the only one who calls me these. I told her the "Rye Bread" story, and she started calling me "Toast!" Quite cute and clever.

-"Babus": Chris calls me this one. It's like a Latin version of "Babe." You know, like an Ancient Roman Babe With a Toga Showing a Little Leg.

-"Ryan the Girl": I made this up. Turns out, there is already some other Ryan the Girl out there who cooks and blogs about it. Slut.

I feel like I'm leaving one out, but I can't figure out what it is. What are your nicknames?

*** UPDATE: Two people have now pointed out that I left nicknames out! My bad! Here are two more:

-"Reenst": I've called my sister "Bean" for as long as I can remember. That has been morphed into all sorts of things like "Bean-face," "Beanie," and "Beanst." Her counter to "Beanst" is "Reenst!"

-"Ryjan": I worked with a woman named Danelle (who goes by Danny). She called me "Ryjanelle" once, which was hilarious, and that got shortened to "Ryjan." She is now "Danjan!"

Playlist 3: Shamless Self-Promotion

There's only ONE SONG ON THIS PLAYLIST. My band's single from our new album, At Long Last (being released March 5!), is now available for listening and for downloading (first 200 downloads are FREE) at http://rockrivergypsies.bandcamp.com/. It's called "Hey Anne," and Chris and I co-wrote it (Yes, cue the long, drawn-out "awwwww...").

It's all happening!

Ain't we cute? Photo by G. Milo Farineau.

"I'm-Sorry" Bok Choy

The last time Chris and I tried clipping Coltrane's nails by ourselves, I came away from the encounter with a giant gash across my left wrist. I spent the entire holiday season wearing long-sleeve shirts not only to keep warm, but also to keep my loved ones from thinking I was a danger to myself.

So, the deed needed doing again, and I came across a sign at my local pet store that mentioned that an animal groomer had started coming by on weekends. I picked up his card, which said that he had experience with dogs, cats, rabbits, and ferrets. Naturally, I called him to make an appointment to get Coltrane's nails done; surely a professional would be better at it than myself.

Not so much:

We get there with my poor, scared bun in his carrier, and the guy walks in with a very spoiled, mean poodle-y thing with a poofy haircut. He sets up shop in the nasty, warehouse-looking "back room," puts the poodle in a tiny cage (from that moment on, the background music to this whole experience was Yippy-Yaps that scared Coltrane to death), and told me that he should be fine, but that he would come get me if he needed help. Two-point-six seconds in, the guy waves me into this "back room" because my rabbit has, apparently, drawn blood.

Now, I knew this wasn't going to be easy; Coltrane is very scared of being "handled," because, to him, it seems like he is surely going to be eaten (prey animals are all wired to be this way. "Cuddle Buns" are groomed from birth to be ok with being handled). But yeah, that's why I thought a PRO would be able to do a better job than myself.

Mr. Groomer-Man exacted his revenge (by accident), by cutting through the quick on one of Coltrane's back toes, and I watched in horror as my bunny rabbit's blood started dripping onto the towel he was wrapped in. My heart was in my throat, and it was all I could do to keep from taking those clippers and de-toe-ing the guy. Even though Coltrane was blinded with fright at this point, I made the guy finish (since we came out there, the trauma was already done, and I was going to have to pay him anyways).

We got little Coltrane home, and he wouldn't even take a carrot because he was so scared and so mad. His eyes were sort of glazed over, and he just wanted to get away from me. I feel incredibly awful, and I've spent a good portion of the day trying to win back his favor.

Just now, we went to the grocery store. I was trying to figure out what kind of veggie to get for Coltrane as an "I'm Sorry" offering. The things he gets often are Romaine Lettuce, Red-Leaf Lettuce, Green-Leaf Lettuce, and Cilantro (because they are the most reasonably-priced, bun-friendly items in the produce section), so I wanted to get him something a little more exotic. My first thought was to get him fresh Basil, because I know he likes it, but they were out. So, the next-best thing I could think of was Bok Choy. So, we're home now, and Coltrane is munching away at his "I'm-Sorry" Bok Choy, and even letting me pet him a little...

Things That Rock About Having a Job Again

-Moneymoneymoneymoney! MONEY!(It's a gas...)
   -(subcategories): Sushi!
   -Red wine!
   -Going out to dinner/lunch/breakfast!
   -Not spending down my savings account anymore!
   -Saving on a regular basis.
-Not having to worry about never getting hired.
-Getting dressed everyday.
-Appreciating the time I do get with Chris.
-Meeting cool, new people.
-Feeling useful and accomplishing tasks daily.
-Being able to keep feeding Coltrane.
-Um, work laptop and a blackberry. 'Nuff said.
-Making a difference by working for a green company.
-Kicking ASS.