Archive for the ‘Squirrels/bunnies/mascots’ Category

What your house looks like when a bunny lives in it

As proud bunny owners, Zach and I sacrifice a lot to make our house inhabitable for our wittle bitty fwuffy-wuffy furball of joy. And we don’t make any effort to hide it anymore. Yes, we’ve effectively become Those People. Please enjoy some depictions of this madness below.

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First off, the Bunny House! Though Pancake loves it, I suspect Martha Stewart will not be calling to do a feature on it anytime soon.

Then there’s the smaller, less popular Vacation Home. It’s less popular because whenever we tell Pancake she’s “going on vacation,” it actually means she’s “going to the scary vet,” where they will poke and prod her. She does not poke, nor prod, well.

The Bunny Maze is much more popular. Hours of fun, and no scary vets in there!

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Bunnies like to chew. On everything. All the time. It’s in their nature, and there’s no stopping it. To accommodate this, we try to provide Pancake with various natural bunny-chewing things. Such as sticks (store-bought, of course).

Phone books and bunny-shaped toys.

Old paper towel rolls.

Now, despite crap like this littering our entire living room, Pancake naturally gravitates toward the stuff she’s not supposed to chew on. Like electrical cords, which we’ve covered with plastic cord protectors, with a mild to moderate success rate.

Or remotes, which we’ve made a habit of facing down when not in use.

But sometimes we forget.

She also tends to chew on the edge where the carpet meets the tile, which we’ve deterred by covering it with a stylish combination of rugs and sheets.

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When she’s not chewing on things, Pancake partakes in various activities, such as pushing neatly stacked DVDs off the TV stand.

She also enjoys eating hay, which is consequently scattered across our home. Nom nom nom!

Pancake also enjoys a good burrow under the couch. Because of this, we have to leave the recliners open at all times, since she’s less likely to hide under those sections if they’re open, meaning she’s less likely to get squished.

Also, before anybody, ANYBODY, is allowed to open or close them, they must have visual on the bunny, and that visual must be somewhere other than under the opposing ends of the couch. This is best left to the professionals. (NOTE: If you ever come over to my house and squish my bunny, I will squish you. And not in a good way.)

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I’m sure by now you’ve noticed that Pancake is a fwuffy-wuffy wufferton. This means she needs a good brushin’ once a week or so. Pancake hardly likes to be touched, let alone picked up and brushed, so we had to get creative with our methods. The most effective one we’ve affectionately termed The Bunny Grab. It consists of several steps:

1) Block off all hiding places with pillows and such (under the couch, namely, which we often don’t bother unblocking anymore);

2) Locate the bunny and grab a blanket;

3) Chase said bunny around with said blanket, usually while she thumps out of pure, unadulterated fear;

4) Corner the bunny and cover her with the blanket;

5) Pick up the bunny while she’s rendered blind and helpless; and

(There’s a bunny somewhere in there, I promise.)

6) Take the bunny to the closet in the guest room, where she can hop around a bit while we brush her and she doesn’t have to sit squirming in our laps the whole time.

And that folks, is how you successfully complete The Bunny Grab. It might sound cruel, but there’s no getting around it — she has to be brushed every once in a while or her system will clog with fur and make her really sick. It’s not fun for us, either, but we do it out of love.

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You can see that maintaining a safe and healthy Bunny Room is hard work, which is why the doors to all the People Rooms in our home are closed at all times.

Curious by nature, Pancake desperately wants to explore the People Rooms whenever she gets a chance. Let the bunny into a People Room at your own risk though, as you’ll probably subject yourself to anywhere from five to 90 minutes of low-speed bunny chase as she rummages around under the bed, until you eventually spook her out with a broom handle.

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After reading about all the upkeep a bunny-friendly home requires, you’re probably questioning our sanity. I don’t blame you, and I am the first to admit it’s not easy being a bunny slave. But it’s a lot harder to say no to a face like this.

A tribute to … POPPLES!

Hey, remember Popples? Of course you do, because they totally KICKED. ASS.

In case you missed out on the greatest toy fad of the ’80s, Popples were these magical teddy bear/bunny/pompom/clown crossover stuffed animals with sweet pouches they could roll up into.

The concept behind Popples was quite simple: You pop it in. You pop it out. Pop, pop, Popples! Giggles ensued. They could also keep some pretty neat shit in those pouches.

There were several varieties of Popples, such as:

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Standard Popple

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Baby Popple

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Sporty Popple

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Popples in a Boot

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French Popples

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Pompous Popples

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Edible Popple

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Card Catalog Popple

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Pervert Popples

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Drunk Off Their Asses on a Merry-Go-Round Popples

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Hippie Stoned Out of His Mind on a Bean Bag Popple

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Popples enjoying the annual Popple Convention

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And of course, the Original Popple

Easter egg hunts = humanity at its worst

Probably because you pushed him down, you little shit.

“I’m gonna push people out of the way and run over them.”

That’s what a 5-year-old at the egg hunt I planned said to a newspaper reporter yesterday. Apparently, these are the sorts of values I’m instilling in our young people by putting on this event.

I mean, I’m not really into the whole Jesus thing, but I’m pretty sure “pushing people out of the way” and “running them over” weren’t what he had in mind when he sacrificed himself for the good of  the order, or whatever.

And it’s not just the kids who have this mindset at the Eggstravaganza. Many of the parents aren’t afraid to block or push other kids out of the way just so their offspring have a better shot at getting some crappy Easter stickers and diabetes-inducing candy (and, some years, inappropriate tattoos). And apparently, before I took the helm, organizers would put the bike-winning coupons in special gold and silver eggs easily distinguishable from the rest of the field, and — I swear I’m not making this up — some parents would bring binoculars so they could spot these special eggs beforehand and tell their kid where to run.

Simply put, mass Easter egg hunts bring out the worst in humanity.

As you can imagine, this incites some conflicting feelings for me. On the one hand, I’m indoctrinating America’s future with the values of greed and selfishness. On the other hand, it pays the bills. (And hey, at least a convicted sex offender wasn’t arrested at MY egg hunt …)

Fortunately, yesterday’s event was the last that will cause this crisis of conscience plaguing my mind. That’s right, I have  a new job! Well, sort of. One of my co-workers is retiring, and I’m transitioning into her strictly writing/editing position that involves only minimal participation in events. We’ll hire someone else to replace me, and I’ll transfer this crisis onto that poor unsuspecting soul.

I hope whoever that is has the best Easter of their life this year, because it’s going to be a long, loooooong time before they enjoy it again.

Yet another awesome national holiday

Because I’m apparently all about national holidays in 2011, I thought I’d write a post in honor of National Pancake Day. Which is obviously just an excuse to post a photo of my most favoritest pancake: Miss Pancake T. Bunsen, fwuffy wuffy bunny extraordinaire!

I’m cuter than you!

National Pancake Day is sponsored by IHOP, which is, coincidentally, Pancake’s favorite restaurant.

Get it? IHOP? Like a bunny hops? Hahahahahaahahahaha!!!

OK, yeahhh … sorry.

That Punxsutawney Phil is full of sh*t

You’re lucky you’re so cute and fat, Phil.

So, famed groundhog Punxsutawney Phil did not see his shadow today, which, according to legend, means there are only two more weeks of winter left.

But I know better than to believe his bullshit, at least in Montana. Winter has never ended in mid-February in Montana. Never. Even when the rest of the world succumbs to global warming and the ocean swallows up Florida, it will still be winter in Montana. And Punxsutawney Phil will still be a liar.

Basically, Montana needs to recruit its own woodland creature to make wintery predictions:

  • If he doesn’t see his shadow, it means there are only six more weeks of winter left – yay! Pina coladas for everyone!
  • If he sees it, though, it means there are six weeks of winter left, then a few days of sunshine and temps hovering around 60 — just to get your hopes up — followed by a massive blizzard that dumps at least a foot of snow, most likely on the first day of spring. This pattern will continue off and on until mid-May.

The woodland creature will always see his shadow. Always. But hey, the summers are nice!

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