| Website Announcement! |
[Jul. 26th, 2006|09:30 pm] |
For all of you who have been complaining that I've let my website go to seed: you'll be happy to see that it just vomited up 18 months worth of updates.
What's new?
26 new movie reviews
10 new essays
1 new, easy-on-the-eyes site design.
New contact address for comments and inquiries: molly@bringmetheheadofscottbaio.com
And coming next week, new feature:
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| I hate shopping. For clothes. |
[Nov. 23rd, 2005|09:57 am] |
After work yesterday I decided to give in and go buy myself a pants suit, the reasoning being that I could wear it three days a week to Macy's with a different shell, which would trick everyone into believing it was a different outfit.
How hard is it to find a freaking black pants suit?
Nearly impossible. Filene's had a number of black pants suits, none of which fit correctly. Too tight across the chest, too big around the waist. Too small across the shoulders, too long in the sleeves. And even in the Petites department the pants were all way to long. After a couple of hours of this one does start to feel a little deformed.
I went next door to Virgin Records, because I had been waiting at least 6 weeks for some disposable income so I could pick up Julian Lennon's "Valotte", which they totally had at least 4 copies of 2 weeks ago. It had completely disappeared from the shelves, I'm guessing consigned to the unsorted, unalphabetized, "Under $10" holiday sale bins. So, I innocuously walked over to the boxed set section and saw that this
was on sale for 50 bucks (Marked down from $75). I was waiting until after Christmas to buy it... but I figure that it really is a cost-cutting measure. I'll stay in my room and listen to CDs instead of going out and spending money. Totally.
And it's so good! It has to be one of the best sets that Rhino has released in recent memory. They really dug and found some weird and wonderful stuff, including pre-Sonny Cher; pre-Country & Western Dolly Parton (a song urging her boyfriend not to drop out of high school!); The Tammys' (whose day job was singing back-up for Lou Christie) "Egyptian Shumba", which seems to be composed of equal parts of helium and Benzedrine; and of course The Whyte Boots' wonderful "Nightmare" which is about... uh, a girl who kills her romantic rival in a catfight.
The more conventional cuts are great too. The Shirelles' B-side "Boys" is straight up 50's-style R&B, Bessie Banks' version of "Go Now" puts the Moody Blues to shame, and Donna Lynn's "I'd Much Rather Be With the Girls" can stand proudly beside The Reigning Sound's remake.
However, my two favorite tracks are Reparata & the Delrons' psychedelic "Saturday Night Didn't Happen", about waking up with a hangover and trying to piece together the events of the previous night, including (Nooooooooo!) her man walking out on her. The keyboards and distortion kind of make it sounds like The Who was playing back up for them. It rocks!
...the other is Toni Basil's (almost 20 years before she hit with "Mickey") "I'm 28", which is about a would-be sexpot facing down impending or imagined spinsterhood. Which sounds pretty lame, but she wrings an amount of bitterness from the lyrics that is rather shocking.
Anyway. Best investment of $50 ever. |
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| Everyone loves surveys! |
[Nov. 21st, 2005|04:37 pm] |
TEN FIRSTS
First Best Friend: Probably Grace- we met on the first day of school when we were 5.
First Screen Name: mbg200. Generated automatically by NYU.
First Pet: Southside Johnny, the goldfish.
First Piercing: My ears when I was 10.
First Crush: Still too embarrassed to admit who...
First Record: Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians "Ghost of a Dog". On cassette
First Car: 1983 Dodge Omni
First Love: Not the '83 Omni
First stuffed animal: Pillsbury the polar bear was one of several brought to me while I was still in the hospital
NINE LASTS
Last Alcoholic Beverage: a prodigious quantity of vodka martinis. (Say it with me: "That's not a martini!")
Last Car ride: Probably with Cathie to my job at the World Trade Pit 3 months ago.
Last Movie Saw: theater: Wallace and Gromit TV: Some Like it Hot
Last Phone Call: Osterhaus bragging that he got to see Walk the Line before I did.
Last Cd Played: David Johansen "Live It Up" ("We fell in love with Veronica/
And every last one of The Ronettes...")
Last Bubble bath: Looooong time ago.
Last time you Cried: Have no idea.
EIGHT HAVE YOU EVERS
Have you ever dated one of your best friends: No. Which may be my problem.
Have you ever been arrested? No
Have you ever skinny dipped: Yes
Have you ever been on tv: Yes
Have you ever kissed someone, and then regretted it? Not the kiss per se
Have you ever had a sex dream about someone? Yes
Have you ever had sex? Who, me?
SEVEN THINGS YOU ARE WEARING
1. Sensible black shoes
2. Black knee-highs
3. Black pants that didn't drape across my midsection 3 months ago.
4. Underwear (black)
5. Brassiere(black)
6. Purple faux-Pucci, faux-silk scarf
7. Black angora sweater that has inspired stoners to bury their face in my bosom and exclaim "So... fuzzy!"
SIX THINGS YOU'VE DONE TODAY
1. Woke up at 6:30
2. Made instant oatmeal in a coffee cup
3. Showered
4. Dressed
5. Got on subway
6. Got new plan for cell phone
FIVE FAVORITE THINGS IN NO ORDER
1. Tibby and Mr. Wiggles
2. Gainful employment
3. Whiskey sours
4. Plenty of clean underwear
5. Decent movies on the Late Show
FOUR PEOPLE YOU CAN TELL ALMOST ANYTHING TO
1. Ra-ette
2.
3.
4.
THREE CHOICES
1.Black or White: Black. As my soul.
2.Hot or Cold: Cold. As my heart.
3.Chocolate or Vanilla: Vanilla. As my... wait, that doesn't work.
TWO THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE
1. Live in Europe for awhile
2. Smite my enemies. Or at least outlive them.
ONE THING YOU REGRET
Wasting time. |
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| Can't get the kind of love that I want, or I need/ So let's just dance... |
[Nov. 21st, 2005|02:30 pm] |
I am still alive, and even demi-employed.
Thursday I got my NYC library card in the mail, which brought me no end of good cheer. The Ft. Washington branch is tiny (smaller than the old Seymour Library in Brockport) and has a decent, but limited, selection of books, a bad selection of CDs, and a pretty good classic film collection on video. I immediately checked out a pile of books and every decent CD that they had. (Once I got the CD player in my room working, I realized that all I had brought down with me was a Bob Dylan boxed set and David Johansen's "Live It Up". Both of which are wonderful, but listening to either "Quinn the Eskimo" or "Frenchette" too many times will probably cause a mental breakdown eventually.) (I had to stretch the definition of what I "like" to "listen to"- I ended up with the Yardbirds, yes, but also Phil Ochs...) I always feel better when there is a library nearby.
Friday I had an interview with Roberto Cavalli, the fashion designer, for a job at their showroom. It seemed like a really exciting, glamorous job... but the pay and the hours sucked. I would have dealt with the pay, but the hours would have excluded the possibility of taking a second job, so that was out.
One of my employment agencies called with a 3-day assignment at Van Wagner Communications, who does all of the Times Square billboard advertising. I was still in midtown, so I went and met the staff and had an hour's training. (Gaining more than a few Brownie points in the process.) And... that's where I am now. It's a really nice assignment.
After I finished at Van Wagner Friday, I had an interview (through another agency) with a software company over near Herald Square. The owner of the company was a total douchebag, and I decided in about 15 seconds that I wasn't going to take the job even if offered. (He complained about his current employees, sprang a typing test on me, complained about the results of the typing test, and mostly just glared at me throughout the interview.) The job was temp-to-perm and only paid $9.25 an hour for the first 15 weeks, and then went up to a whopping $30k/yr to be the office manager, bookkeeper and personal assistant to said douchebag. My don't-care attitude must have made an impression, because I was called back and offered the job within the hour. I politely declined. The recruiter pressed for a reason. I was evasive. She asked me what I thought of the owner. "Oh, he was fine." Let somebody else tell them they're recruiting for a jerk.
At some point last week I got hired evenings at Macy's. Not as an elf (although I'm inclined to agree with Mr. Piechota's assessment that I would make "the most adorable elf ever"), but as a sales clerk in the ladies' coat department, which I'm guessing is pretty much the most boring item ever to sell. Fine.
Yesterday I had 9 hours of the most ineptly hilarious retail-sales training ever. The computer-training modules didn't work. The trainer answered all questions with "Don't worry, guys, I said I would take care of you..." Best of all, when he found out the training videos were being used by somebody else, he stood up and described them to us. ("This one starts out with the manager telling the sales associate that he had a really great time last night...")
But, I'm in a pretty great mood nonetheless. I have a library card and friends that enjoy my company. The plundering of my retirement account came through today, so I'm paying off the balance on my car loan and getting a cell phone with an actual contract. Plus some clothes that aren't 4 sizes too big. And some groceries. :P |
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| Maybe I'm being shallow, but... |
[Nov. 8th, 2005|11:59 am] |
What the hell happened to Jon Favreau and Vince Vaughn?
I'm pretty sure that any woman with a pulse who was of age in the mid-90's remembers these guys, right?
Together their combination of super-smooth bedroom eyes and lantern-jawed adorable dorkiness set many hearts a-flutter, right?
Well, for some reason I had Access Hollywood or Inside Edition or something on last night and they were covering the premiere of Zathura, and they turned up together on the red carpet. Looking like ( this ) |
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| Memorandum |
[Nov. 7th, 2005|02:32 pm] |
To: Staff
Please don't eat the Temp's yogurt out of the mini fridge.
Especially after she's already informed that her assignment will be ending in 2 days.
She will just get mad, and select a tastier, more expensive lunch out of the fridge at random and eat it without feeling a bit guilty. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 3rd, 2005|01:01 pm] |
I totally need this book:
I was browsing through it at Barnes & Noble yesterday. As you may have guessed, it's photos and reminicenses about Bar Mitzvahs from the 70's and 80's. I'm not sure why I need it; maybe it's the complusive social history collector in me. Maybe I just want to see somebody else's awkward phase enshrined for once.
Best anecdote: the kid who decides that he wants his Bar Mitzvah to be Madonna-themed. "My parents still didn't figure out that I was gay." |
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| Music that no one but me cares about. |
[Nov. 3rd, 2005|11:04 am] |
Yeah, that cheered me up.
The performances at last night's release party for Rhino Records box set One Kiss Can Lead to Another: Girl Group Sounds Lost and Found were just incredible! I'm still just in awe this morning.
It was standing-room only for the performance, so I sort of elbowed my way up front (I can get away with it because I'm short) which I didn't realize was the VIP section. So, I got to spend the entire concert with, literally, Mary Weiss of the Shangri-las on my right and Arlene Smith from the Chantels on my left.
Unfortunately, I didn't bring a camera, but here is a set list: ( Read more... )
After the Goodees' and the Toys' sets, it kind of became a huge free-for-all, with everyone singing back-up for everyone else's group. Lala Brooks grabbed the Toys, The Goodees and Margaret Ross to make "Da Doo Ron Ron" Wall of Sound-ish; Maxine Brown topped her by pulling people out of the audience to "help out" on "Hold On! I'm Comin'". (Which was so funky that even this rhythmless white girl was shaking a tail feather.)
What impressed me at least as much as the vocals were their dance moves- from the Goodees' synchronized choreography, to Lala Brooks' Tina Turner-esque bumps and grinds.
And I got to have a very nice conversation with Lillian Walker outside of the club afterward. At least I tried- she told me a little bit about working in the studio and touring with the different acts, I just kept telling her how wonderful she was.
I really, really hope that they do some kind of tie-in tour for the set. The performances were so far above the quality of the stereotypical "oldies act", that I'm sure it could be marketed to a wider audience. I go to a lot of rock shows, and trust me- every single act rocked.
Makes my heart go Dum Dum Ditty, makes my heart go Dum Dum Ditty...
That's going to be stuck in my head for the rest of the week, though. |
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| I'm going Bollywood. |
[Oct. 31st, 2005|10:41 am] |
So, the name of the movie is Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna and it apparently stars two of top box-office draws from India. I was talking with a reporter from Newsday who was covering the production, and he said it was the first Bollywood movie to be filmed on location in NYC.
The call for extras was actually pretty small (40 of us, compared to about 1500 at Yankee Stadium), and everyone commented on how nicely we were treated by the crew. (We actually got direction from the director, instead of having a PA yelling at us through a bullhorn.)
And the extras actually seemed more functional than the typical people whom try to make a living at it. Most of them had day jobs, and were first timers who happened to be Indian film fans. Although there was one super-creepy guy who looked like a huge(r) version of Ron Jeremy, who showed up with these two Asian girls that he spent the time between takes ordering around and screaming at ("Woman, I told you get me a donut, you lazy bitch!") He also spent nine hours making up new verses to "New York, New York" until everyone wanted to pretty much gang up and beat the crap out of him. ("New York, New York, a horrible place, I want to punch you in the face..." I'm sure Adolph Green was rolling over in his grave, dahling.) But most of the people seemed pretty normal.
We were shooting at the NYS Superior Court building, which was doubling as a train station in the movie. It was freezing. We did five scenes:
Walking down the stairs with my boyfriend
Walking up the other side of the stairs alone
Walking down the stairs while talking on a cellphone to excitedly great my boyfriend (not the same one as above)
Having an animated conversation in front of a fountain with the first boyfriend
Running up the stairs
That last shot was great, because the action in the foreground involved a child actor who wouldn't get hysterical enough for the camera: in the scene his mother was getting driven away in an ambulance and he was supposed to scream and cry. Eventually the director actually told him to imagine that it was his dog that got run over, not his mom. It worked.
I got to see the rushes from that last sequence, and sure enough, you can see my head bobbing up and down as I run up the stairs for the 20th time. My knees are still killing me.
I have no idea if I made it into any other shots, but one of my costume changes was a bright orange jacket, so I should be pretty easy to pick out if I did.
Oh, and I did manage to ruin an entire take myself! Since it was supposed to be a train station, they gave us all luggage to carry, and at one point I got handed a really cheap vinyl book bag, and it was so cold that the shoulder strap got stiff and slipped off of my shoulder so I tried to surreptitiously bend over and pick it up without breaking stride, but they caught it.
And what is the best part of working on a Bollywood production? Craft services gives you Indian food for lunch. |
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| Any shopgirl or young mechanic/ can be a panic, with just a good-looking pan. |
[Oct. 28th, 2005|02:35 pm] |
I got a call back from the casting agency that I sent my resume and headshot to, and this weekend I'm doing extra work in a movie. But wait, it gets funnier: it's a Bollywood musical. I even get costume changes this time!
(Six years ago Osterhaus and I were extras in the God-awful Kevin Costner vehicle For the Love of the Game. The only thing I gained from the experience was nerd points for being in a Sam Raimi movie. For about 1/8 of a second.)
I don't know why they're filming a Bollywood musical down at City Hall, and I don't really care. Just give me my three costume changes, lunch, and some more money to support my International Playgirl lifestyle. |
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| Get thee to a video store! |
[Oct. 26th, 2005|11:58 am] |
Because I'm bored: five lesser-known movies you must rent on video tape or DVD!
I just found out that this was released on DVD! The cover art doesn't do it justice- it makes it look like a B-Prison flick, when really it is closer to the Warner Bros. "social problem" pictures of the early 30's. Imagine a combination of I am a Fugative from a Chain Gang and Three on a Match, with a dash of both The Crowd and It's a Wonderful Life thrown in for good measure. When the movie opens, five friends are graduating from Miss Williams' (perennial favorite Aline MacMahon) junior high school class. The students are poor, but academically gifted, and Miss Williams is confident that they'll go on to achieve great things. The film follows their disappointments and failures of trying to make good during the Depression, focusing on Frankie (Wallace Ford) who has turned to a life of petty crime. They individually prepare to return home for a class reunion, just as Frankie is arrested on murder charges. His old friends rally around him, including John (a really young Van Heflin) who has become a lawyer and takes his case to try and save him from the electric chair.
I can only think of two movies that are worth watching for the opening sequence alone: Touch of Evil is one, and this is the other. Dan Duryea smokes a cigarette on the sidewalk outside a high rise building, flicks away the ash, as the camera pans up the side of the building and through the venetian blinds where is estranged wife is having an affair. The wife turns up murdered (of course), and her lover is implicated. In short order Duryea (also a suspect) and the wife of the accused(June Vincent) team up to do some sleuthing on there own- they suspect creepy nightclub owner Peter Lorre (who wouldn't?) and go so far as to get hired in his club in order to spy on him.
Another cheating wife turns up dead at the beginning of this one- this time the secretary of the accused(Ella Raines) sets out to prove her boss's innocence by tracking down the title character, who can provide him with an alibi. She tarts herself up and starts hanging out in nightclubs, "undercover", and at one point picks up speed junkie and jazz musician Elisha Cook, Jr who takes her to an all-night jam session. This sequence, (with the drum solo dubbed by Buddy Rich) has been variously described as "masturbatory" and "orgiastic"; neither adjective does it justice. The supporting cast includes Franchot Tone, Thomas Gomez and Carmen Miranda's sister, Aurora.
What's better than a B-movie with Peter Lorre or Elisha Cook, Jr? A B-movie with Peter Lorre and Elisha Cook, Jr! Reporter John McGuire has gained fame for reporting on a number of mysterious murders, and helping to convict cab driver Cook for them. He starts having second thoughts about the conviction- could the real murderer be creepy (what else?) Peter Lorre? Often cited as the first example of Film Noir, it does pioneer the use of expressionistic dream sequences, voice-overs, and Wrong Man syndrome.
Yasujiro Ozu made a number of films after World War II depicting the westernization of Japan and breakdown of the traditional family, but this one, a lightweight domestic comedy, is his funniest and giddiest: two young brothers go on strike, taking a vow of silence, when their parents refuse to buy a television set. This drama plays out against the backdrop of a gossipy Tokyo suburb and the adults' equally silly dramas- did one of the housewives embezzle funds from the ladies club to buy a washing machine? What's up with that slutty Mrs. Maroyama laying around the house in her pajamas all day? Will the older sister's would-be suitor ever get up the nerve to ask her out?
Also: trombone-overdubbed farting sound effects. |
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| "...but they marry brunettes." |
[Oct. 24th, 2005|12:05 pm] |
I've gotten nothing but compliments on my hair at work this morning. Personally, I still think it makes me look a little anemic and/or teenaged angsty.
Yesterday was the opening of the jewelry trade show at the Javits Center, which meant that I had to be out the door and on the train by 6:30 am. I spent all day typing in names with too few vowels into an ancient computer and printing out name badges. They were really paranoid that a member of the general public might, God forbid, get into the show, so they had hired temps from a different agency to check credentials, which led to a hilarious turf war between the Kelly people and the Platinum Staffing people.
After 7 hours of this, I decided I rather loved the crazy unemployables that I was working with, including a middle aged woman who specialized in scoring free candy. (Tip: the Virgin Megastore in Times Square has bins of free Big Red gum on the first and second floors, and they don't bug you even if you take, like, 40 packs!) One of her friends was working the exhibitor-pass machine, so she ventured onto the sales floor and returned with about a pound of free Nestle bars that the exhibitors were giving away.
Book reviews:
I concede: Tom Wolfe is out of touch with Today's Young People. I Am Charlotte Simmons is supposed to be an expose on the corrupt and corrupting nature of Campus Life In The New Millennium. Unfortunately, he gets it wrong, both in the big picture and the details. The title character is a virginal and brilliant Appalachian girl, awarded a full scholarship to a prestigious university. Unfortunately, she's also extremely unlikable, so when she loses her virginity to a frat boy (after 450 pages of build up), there isn't much sympathy for her spending the next 300 pages wallowing in self pity. In fact, none of the characters, students or faculty, are at all likable. Sometimes it can work (it did in Wolfe's Bonfire of the Vanities) but in this case you just feel like you're wasting your time without any plot or character development.
The little details are wrong in a creepy-old-guy-in-the-white-suit-eavesdropping-at-a-frat-party way, too. Slang is mangled and misused, pop cultural references fall flat (In Tom Wolfe World, college students are all really into Britney Spears.) Technology also seems to elude him (Charlotte's roommate shows up at school with a fax machine? Students use "beepers" instead of cell phones? By the time he refers to "instant messaging on e-mail", he's firmly established himself as still being rooted in the manual typewriter era.)
I read this one while stranded in the subway tunnel last week, and I think I may have to be all turned around on Kurt Vonnegut, whom I've never cared for. When does the world need an anti-war novel that works this well? Uh...now.
(Although I kept reading all of the aliens' dialog in Mooninite voices inside my head: "Of course you'll never understand, it only exists in the fourth dimension.") |
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| Working in a coal mine, going down down down... |
[Oct. 22nd, 2005|07:54 pm] |
People who temp in NYC are crazy in a can't-hold-down-a-job kind of way that is unique to NYC.
Today I worked 4 hours setting up a trade show at the Javits Center. (Not the Donald Trump show like I thought I was getting.)
My co-workers all looked and sounded like Rosanne Rosanadana and have been temping for something like 20 years. The offered me many valuable pieces of advice (like "bring a sandwich" and "wear a sweater") and then talked my ear off with gossip about people that I didn't know. (Can you believe that Laurie at the firm left all of her xeroxing for Amanda?! I'm appalled!)
One of them used to be an entertainment lawyer and asked me what I did during the week. I told her that I was a secretary, to which she replied "I assume you're in the fashion industry since you're dressed so well." (Yay, JC Penney's petites clearance rack.) I told her that it was actually the advertising industry and she said that she liked my hair because it was very "1930's looking" and told me I should wear a suit tomorrow for the show opening.
Speaking of hair...
Gentleman, when a girl dyes her hair black, the proper response is "Say, you do look like Joan Jett!"
The improper response is to chase her around the house for two hours yelling "L'il Molly Goth-head!" in a falsetto. |
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| The hassles of the Common Woman. |
[Oct. 19th, 2005|10:14 am] |
Because we don't yet live in a socialist paradise (and because the health insurance that I'm paying through the nose for hasn't kicked in yet), I don't get to go to a doctor like a normal person to get my birth control pills refilled. Planned Parenthood is booking appointments 2 months in advance down here, and all of the VD clinics (they actually call them that!) are more than happy to give me all of the free Morning-After Pills I can carry away, nobody was willing to write me a script for my pills without an appointment, and nobody was willing to give me an appointment before I ran out. I tried calling my family practitioner in Rochester, and ending up getting into a long-distance fight with his nurse (crazy bitch). So, I typed "Birth Control" and "New York City" into a search engine and one of the listings to come up was something called Empire State Women's Health Services. Sounds legit, right?
So, I called them yesterday morning and told them that I need an appointment to get a check-up and a refill, and could they manage to squeeze me in this week? "Sure, when would you like to come?" "Oh, anytime around the lunch hour would be good." "Today?" "Uh... yeah, today would be great." I got to pick the time.
So, at lunch I get on the train and go up to the address they gave me which is in Koreatown. Huh. The building is kind of tenement-y. When I get up to the office, the first two things I notice are that there's cheap wood paneling on all of the walls, which makes it look like a temporary office on a construction site; also it's the middle of the day and I'm the only patient. The nurse (doing double-duty as the receptionist) takes me back to the exam room (no weigh-in, no urine sample, no taking of my sex/health history) and I notice a pair of women's shoes on the floor next to the exam table. Great. This is actually a front, I'm going to be kidnapped and sold into white slavery in Pyongyang.
The Dr. arrives in a cloud of cigarette smoke. He hardly speaks any English so we comically shout at each other and make hand gestures. ("BREAST EXAM? YOU HAVE PAMPHLET?" "YES! I HAVE PAMPHLET!") He does the exam, still doesn't ask me anything about my health history, and writes me a script for 6 months of pills. I pay cash and leave.
Lesson learned: if you want prescription drugs without a hassle, go to Koreatown. If you want a gyno exam in English without cigarette smoke, book early with Planned Parenthood.
After work I went to see Vic and the Little Blue Pills play at Border's over on 2nd Ave. They were an hour and a half late showing up, and there was only one Little Blue Pill on hand (Ara Babajian, who also drums for The Slackers). God, bands must hate playing book store gigs- they left the Muzak on, for one thing, plus there were 800 little kids running around knocking into their amps, intercoms going off, etc. Plus they had been double-booked with a Psychic Healing Fair, so they got stuck in a little alcove while gigantic hippies ran around with their healing crystals.
Vic and Ara (I've decided I'm entitled to call them Vic and Ara...) were good sports about it. A couple of other Slackers fans showed up, and they took requests and tried not to play too many songs with the word "Fuck" in it. I'm totally going to their gig in Tribeca next week.
I was going to go to Dumpling Man afterward, but when I got down there they were packed, so I went across the street to Crif Dogs and got a veggie dog with tomato, onion, jalapenos and cucumbers. Which, was pretty much the best thing ever. |
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| Mr. Wiggles takes a trip. |
[Oct. 16th, 2005|05:42 pm] |
Jet-set Bunny!
He's staying with my sister in Atlanta until I get my own place. He does not look like he was impressed by his first airplane ride. |
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