The Rabbit Archives

Another conversation. Kind of.

Rabbit: So…    I was wondering if you thought that maybe it would be a good idea to let Sikorsky sleep in the garage.

Me: [blank stare]

Rabbit: You know, so she doesn’t get too cold

Me: [even blanker stare]

Now before you go and get the wrong impression of me just let me explain that I don’t hate animals. Mostly. And I feel bad for any stray cats who have to suffer freezing temperatures during the colder months, but we live in freaking FLORIDA. The highs here have been in the low 80′s. I don’t think Sikorsky is weathering too bad.

And, seriously , people. Who is this person and what has he done with my husband?

Apparently going to a fancy shmancy party thing like we did last night has a strange effect on Rabbit and me. Because we don’t really know how to behave at things like this, we seem to regress into some less-than-normal conversations.
It’s kind of like when you’re a kid and it’s your first time sitting at the grownup’s table and you are trying to act older but it just isn’t working so you give up completely…

Yeah. Like that. Only it isn’t our first time at the grownup’s table. And we’re not kids anymore.

Me: There is something missing from this table.
Rabbit: What’s that?
Me: A unicorn. A small unicorn.
Rabbit: What is it with unicorns all the time? Hey, look, Superman must have been here.
Me: What? What the heck are you talking about?
Rabbit: He left his crystals all over the ceiling.
Me: How come you can talk about Superman but I can’t talk about unicorns?
Rabbit: Because UNICORNS. AREN’T. REAL.
Me: Yes they are. They’re in the Bible
Rabbit: No they’re not. Narwhals are real. Unicorns are mythical. Big difference.
Me: Yes they are. It actually says unicorn in the King James version.
Rabbit: That could mean anything. That could mean rhinoceros.
Me: But it says UNICORN not rhinoceros.
Rabbit: Unicorn means one horn. Or one… corn? That’s weird.
Me: Narwhal means one-toothed unicorn. Or something like that.
Rabbit: What? That’s stupid. What does it have to do with teeth?
Me: The Narwhal’s horn IS a tooth.
Rabbit: No.
Me: Yes.
Rabbit: So you’re telling me he’s got a tooth that comes out of his head?
Me: No. That would be dumb. It comes out of his mouth. It’s one long tooth but he doesn’t use it for getting food. He more sword fights with it.
Rabbit: This is awesome. Here, let me joust you with my one tooth.
Me: I see your tooth is as big as mine.
Rabbit: You know what’s weird is how you know so much about Narwhals.
Me: I watched Elf.
Rabbit: And seriously, why is it called a uniCORN? Why not a uniHORN?

This is about when we realized the entire table was looking at us and I said to Rabbit:
Remember the last time we were caught being completely goofy in our own little world? It was at the Haddings and, coincidentally, we were talking about corn then too. Jimmy Crack Corn… or some variation of that song.

But actually I was wrong. I don’t know what I was remembering about Jimmy Crack Corn but while visiting our friends, the Haddings, after a pretty stressful week preparing for Kait’s graduation, Rabbit and I were de-stressing by laughing about hanger-nails, not cracking corn. Don’t ask because, honestly, I have no idea.  We’re like ginormous children. Except nobody has to remind us to brush our teeth.

P.S. You can’t actually learn anything about Narwhals from watching Elf so don’t go out and buy the movie hoping for a good homeschooling lesson. You’ll be disappointed. Probably.

So, this shindig is pretty fancy shmancy I guess. There were even hors d’oeuvres on trays being carried around by people in loose oriental-yoga attire and we could just take what we wanted and put our empty glasses and fancy skewers back on the tray like in the movies.


And then we sat down at the dinner table finally and are now waiting for dinner to be served and there are more than a half dozen pieces of silverware to choose from.


Who needs this much silverware? Really? It is just a three course meal.
And Rabbit just started talking about the Superman crystals on the ceiling and I realize now more than ever that we are definitely far outside our element.

P.S. I totally had to look up the spelling of Hors d’oeuvres.

Rabbit and I were watching X-Files the other night… Again. It’s what we must do because there are 9 seasons and being on season 8 we’ve still got a season and a half to go, and then the two movies, before we can concentrate on anything else.  I would say that it’s getting old but it’s not and it has actually given me a new appreciation for weird. And I liked weird BEFORE I started watching the X-Files.

So, like I said, we were watching the X-Files and I was so tired and my ankles and heels were throbbing because I hurt them running and I was just sitting there not saying much at all and finally Rabbit turned to me and said, Are you okay? And I said, Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. And he said, Oh. Because you’re very witless tonight.

Now, I’d heard the word witless before but couldn’t recall in what context so I asked Google.


Apparently my husbands opinion of me isn’t what I thought it was.

So, either Rabbit thinks quiet = stupid or he didn’t really know what he was saying which I’m guessing is the latter because, while I’m silly and random, I’m no fool…  I don’t think.


No. Never mind. I’m just going to stop now.

Update: I just looked up fatuous. It means pointless and I’m never looking up a word ever again.

The other day the Rabbit noticed some weird bug bite thing going on on his stomach and it itched and was spreading and then started to hurt. I suggested that he caught (or was given) some sort of X-Files-ish thing while in the Bahamas hunting underwater aliens with his helicopter but he just laughed a little like I was kidding but I wasn’t and it got worse and he had to go to the doctor and the doctor said, Your wife was right.
But not about him being infected with alien babies. I was right when I said if it wasn’t an alien disease it was probably shingles.

So, yeah. The Rabbit has shingles. Or at least that’s what they’re calling it to cover for something much more conspiracy theory-ish.
I’m not sayin’. I’m just sayin’. I’ve seen that one military pilot alien rash episode of the X-Files, people. It’s scary stuff.

He’s not really sick or anything but the doc gave him something strong for any future pain anyway. Real strong. Like Percocet. I really hope this stays mild though. I’ve heard that shingles can be awful. Also, I really want to get the garage cleaned out. I have plans for that place.

The Rabbit is back from the Bermuda Triangle. He didn’t get dead or anything but I have a sneaking suspicion that he might not be who he says he is anymore. For one, he’s molting and two, well, molting should be enough. Also, there is no two. He’s acting pretty normal for being his alternate self or an alien or something.

Except for the fact that the people around the corner from us have a unicorn statue in their garden which is AWESOME but when I suggested how great an idea that was the Rabbit said no in a don’t be ridiculous kind of way as if having a unicorn in the garden is wrong or something but then I figured he didn’t want me to have a unicorn because we’d seem like copy cats or something and I said good call.  So I suggested that we could get an equally awesome pegasus instead and he said no to that too and he is so going to rue the day he told me I couldn’t have a horse with wings, y’all.

Just think pink flamingos, people. Or even better, pink flamingos riding pegasuses. Pegasi? Pegasai?

What on earth is the plural for pegasus?

It’s been a tragically unfunny week.

I haven’t blogged much and I know you’re all disappointed but I’ve been busy moving. Like into a new house which is awesome because it’s at the beach but we’ve moved 10 times and this one has been the worst move ever. Imagine what it might be like to hire a bunch of 6 year olds to package your stuff.  Yeah. I’m just glad it was on the government’s dime. And we only lived here for 3 days before I got flagged down in my 12 passenger van and asked if I could haul a bunch of guys to the ships because white 12 passenger Chevy vans are what the military uses around here to bus guys around. I’m now thinking I may have young sailor types asking me for rides all the time. The Rabbit might take issue with this.

Meanwhile, back in the Bermuda Triangle, the Rabbit has been busy dropping torpedoes on underwater alien colonies probably and wrestling 7 foot stingrays and snorkeling and finding me a big conch shell and apparently getting so much sun that he needed to go to bed at 7. 

I miss him.

That’s all I have to say. Hopefully I’ll be less tragically unfunny tomorrow and will be able to write you the most hilarious thing you’ve ever read. Or maybe not. I’m not promising anything people.

Okay, so I haven’t posted in a few days and I know you guys are all sitting on the edges of your seats waiting to hear the latest Rabbit in the Bermuda Triangle saga. Well, I’ve got some news for you and you better just hang onto your britches because what I’m about to tell you is totally The Monster at the End of This Book type stuff.

Remember how I talked about the giant people-eating owls that live on Andros Island in the Bermuda Triangle and how the Rabbit is in the Bermuda Triangle on Andros Island doing aquatic alien surveillance probably and we were all worried that he was going to get owl bit or something?

Well, here is the only owl the Rabbit has seen and I seriously don’t know what to think. Is this thing going to be doing any eating of people? Like the Rabbit?
Wait. Don’t owls eat stuff like Rabbits?
This isn’t looking too good I don’t think.

I’m still not convinced that this is the mythical Chickcharney but whatever because seriously, what kind of coincidence is it that I write a post about giant menacing owls and there just happens to be this thing living in the helicopter hangar the Rabbit walks around in every single day? The man LIVES on the wild side, I tell you.

Then the Rabbit got shot at with a styrofoam missile only he didn’t tell me it was styrofoam until after it happened so I went all day hoping and praying that he would do really well on the evading part of his helicopter flying exercise because people would be SHOOTING MISSILES AT HIM. After that he went snorkeling and the people told him, Watch out for sharks. And barracudas.

In other news, Craigslist is being a total jerk.

Also, I taste like bread. Or tea. Apparently I’m like a staple.

And, who can ignore this? I certainly can’t.

I ran across some very informative articles and discussions about the military base the Rabbit has been sent to for a few weeks which is in the Bahamas on a base the government calls AUTEC and I don’t even know what that stands for but the place is known to conspiracy theorists as “just like Area 51 but different” and “is probably a stargate” and, as it turns out, the Rabbit is actually taking part in a secret government project to capture aliens from another dimension that know how to swim.  Probably.
Also, turns out he’s in the Bermuda Triangle on an island inhabited by giant troll owls who eat people and he doesn’t even know it and I can’t even call him to warn him because apparently phone calls are pretty much impossible except on special days and I can’t even make this crap up.

Baby, if you read this remember to keep a circle of ash with you at all times and for the love of all that is sane do not agree to push any buttons. Also, beware of bald men in fedoras.

So, a week or so ago the Rabbit convinced me to sit in his helicopter and I was sure I had gone 25 years back in time because it all looked very Atari and I decided right then and there that flying in a helicopter is on my least favorite things to do list because Atari was very pixely and unrealistic and I don’t ever want to feel like that. I’m not saying I don’t like Ataris, I’m just saying that I don’t want to be flying around in one.  So I sat there and pretended and the Rabbit took some pictures of me with my phone and I almost broke the Navy and now I’m typing this blog post a week later and I don’t have much else to say about the whole event except, dang I was having a good hair day.

And also, It has become obvious that the Rabbit doesn’t know me very well because this is how he imagines me to look while flying a helicopter:

This is how I imagine me to look while I fly a helicopter: (much more realistic)


I promise I was not really flying in either of these photos and if you look closely at each picture you will see strong indications that we are, in fact, still inside the hangar.  I don’t fly. And I have no desire to anger the government. You know, assuming the government reads my blog.

And as if it wasn’t bad enough that I was surrounded by snakes and had possibly murdered Santa I really had to go pee and the Rabbit forced me to use the men’s head because, There’s no girl’s head on this floor, and that doesn’t sound bizarre at all and I thought once again that this is really not somewhere I should be ever. 

But at least I got to fly. Pseudoly (can I say that?).

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