Royal Theme

In keeping with the royal theme…I’m out of the blog office today.


I’m OFF doing all things royal….
So I’m either out for tea…a little bubbly…or the loo.


Anywhooooooooooo…………………


I hope to be back to being my usual royal pain in the ass next week.

Have a royally good weekend.

Cheerio for now.

Fairy Tale Wedding

OMG…Paris Hilton and I are on the same page. Well, not the pages of Us Weekly…but we are on the same page when it comes to THE ROYAL wedding.

We are both royally excited. NOT. Big whoop. Maybe the countdown to the royal wedding that started 60 days ago…has me jaded. Somebody shoot me.

I’ve begun to question myself. Shouldn’t I be getting excited about all the pomp and circumstance of the royal wedding…Kate’s gown, the carriages, the pageantry? After all, it is history in the making.

Maybe I need an attitude adjustment. Somebody slap me.

Maybe it’s because I already went goo-goo gaga….(before Lady Gaga) in 1981 over the royal wedding of Diana and Charles. We see how that ended. Fairy tale gone nightmare.

Plus my genetic make up is…one part sarcastic, one part cynical, one part crotchety, one part loon. Somebody hand me a drink.

Anywhooooo…………

There was also another great couple that married the same year as Prince Charles and Princess Diana…thirty years ago. The wedding of Luke and Laura…ahhh…watched my millions. Oh, and lest we not forget…the wedding of Kat and PaulA.

Our wedding wasn’t televised or videotaped. (We were married during the dark ages, before technology was invented.) Our pomp and our circumstance was small in comparison…but the end result was a true royal fairy tale.

Should Kate and William be lucky enough…they too will be married for thirty years, have amazing children…and…maybe...just maybe...Kate will make something of herself and blossom into a Blogger Extraordinaire. She couldn’t ask for more.

My wish for the royal couple’s life together…one that follows commoners PaulA and Kat.................

“And they lived happily ever after.”

No License Required

Did you hear about the minors in the news last week who were served alcohol?

Underage kids posing as legal age is nothing new. It’s an age old scam kids have been attempting to pull off through the ages. They’re working what I call the “Farkus Factor.” (Named after someone I know who used a license with the name of “Farkus.”)

Sometimes the license is perfect with an actual resemblance….but then sometimes…there is something else that gives it all away………….

Like when…imposter Farkus used his I.D. to gain entry into a Boston tavern. The bouncer examined the license and asked, “ You’re from New York?” Yea. Man. “Then why are you wearing a Red Sox cap?” Ummmmm

Anywhoooooo……..

The minors in the recent news never tried to pull a Farcus and flash a fake I.D. They didn’t have to…they were served direct to their high chairs. These kids weren’t even three years old.

Apparently there are places where minors don’t need to go through the trouble of photo shopping a fake I.D. They just need to go to Olive Garden or Applebees and ask for the “sippy cup.” There are some strong drinks being sipped through those straws.

At an Applebees in Michigan a child was given a margarita instead of an apple juice and at the Olive Garden in Lakeland, FL another child was given a tropical sangria instead of an orange juice. Woo hoo. Yippe ki yay.

I used to think it was the sugar responsible for kid's boisterous...crazy...lamp shade wearing behavior…but apparently it’s the “juice.”

Bartender, I’ll have what they’re having.

Earth Day Dirt

Last Friday, April 22, was Earth Day…so this past weekend many people took to the streets, parks, and beaches to do some spring cleaning. It’s all about taking care of Mother Earth.

For me, Earth Day has a different significance. An Earth Day can NOT go by without me remembering a particular Earth Day…many earth’s rotations ago. The day I wanted to bury an elementary school principal…six feet into the Motha Earth.

But instead of risking jail time away…I just stomped and tromped all over Mr. Principal with the tread of my earth shoes.

I’m sure you’re wondering what earthly reason I could have to go after a school principal...especially one who was very popular with parents and kids.

To break it down and sum it all up…Chelsea was in the fifth grade and had attended an Earth Day Fair during school. When she got off the bus, she excitedly told me that during the fair, a man in one of the booths stuck her with needles. A man? Needles?

I immediately called Mr. Principal. Apparently the man was an acupuncturist and used Chelsea to demonstrate his art of stick ‘em. When a teacher saw what was going on…she shut him down. But that was after Chels had become his pin cushion.

The principal did his best to assure me that Chelsea would be fine and wouldn’t come down with the dreaded pin cushion disease that I was worried about. But it was hard to calm me down.

He knew I was upset: “Where on earth is it okay to stick your child in school without permission? Who on earth would do this? What on earth is going on?”

And my final promise/threat: “If ANYTHING happens to Chelsea…If she comes down with so much as a sniffle…You will be living a HELL on earth.”

Anywhoooooooooooooo………………….

It is instinctive for mothers to move heaven and earth to protect their young…no matter what species they belong to. And this Kat…would do anything to protect her kittens. Anything.

I’ve occasionally run into Mr. Principal around town…(not run over)…and we are very cordial, but I do give him the stink eye…just so he remembers that I have dirt on him.

And Mr. Principal never fails to forget my name. I’m sure he has told his wife…should he ever go missing…check the area for...earth shoe prints.

Happy Easter

As I walked through the Taj MaMall this week, my heart did the panga. It might sound like I was doing a little salsa or zumba, but actually it was my heart panging at the sight of all the sweet Easter outfits for children.

Ahhh…Easter at the Taj MaMall. Sights of sweet dresses with bows and sashes, Easter bonnets, little purses, and white patent leather shoes. Little plaid outfits for boys with Peter Pan collars. Those were the days my friends….Big C, Colinboy, and Wishy dressed in their Easter finest.

Kids love searching for their hidden Easter baskets as much as discovering what’s in them. A little note from the Easter Bunny with a rhyming rap...always helped our kids find their baskets. “Yo yo, E.B. here...get your rear in gear…look for your basket where ya daddy stashes beer.” (Okay, not exactly that rhyme…something a little sweeter.)

I’ll never forget a particular Easter, many Easter moons ago when I was just a kitten and not a Kat...the Easter Bunny brought me the best basket ever. Nestled in the green grass...I found an adorable yellow chick, a pack of candy cigarettes, and a pen that resembled a cigar. I believe I was the recipient of the Junior Smoker’s Easter Basket. I loved it. I could smoke my candy cigarettes while I did homework with my cigar pen.

Anywhoooooooooooooooo………………….

As I walked through theTaj MaMall…I came upon the Easter Bunny holding center court...and a little boy sitting next to him with a look of panic on his face.

I understand why kids would be creeped out by the Easter Bunny. The hollow head of the mute Easter Bunny with his fixed eyes and occasional head nod…doesn’t compare to the jolly rosy-cheeked Santa Claus. I think I remember torturing my kids once (or twice) with a visit to the 6-foot stoic hare. They learned to smile quickly for the camera…so they could get the heck out of there.

This Easter…I’m remembering Easter mornings long ago when after church the house was filled with joy and...candy wrappers, green plastic grass, patent leather shoes, bonnets, and a clip-on tie…strewn across the floor.

Those were the days, my friends. We’d thought they’d never end.

Happy Easter!

Donald Trump for President?

Sound the TRUMPets…Donald Trump for President.

What are the chances Donald Trump will run for President of the United States? Is this a show…a reality…or another reality show?

Let’s face it…The Donald is the King of Self-Promotion. You would be hard pressed to find another C-E-O with a larger E-G-O. I think he became a real-estate tycoon just to stamp his name on everything. Trump Towers, Trump Plaza, Trump Taj Mahal, Trump National Golf Course, on and on. If it can be bought and branded…his name is on it. He probably has a “Trump” tattoo.

Trump has stated that he will announce his Presidential bid during the finale of his Celebrity Apprentice Show. So is this a stunt to get more viewers? Hey, I’m already a faithful viewer. I’m eerily fascinated with his comb-over.

If this turns out to be just another ploy for attention…why would anyone listen to the Donald anymore? You can only cry wolf a few times...before the public hopes the wolf eats you and spits you out. (yum....tasty Trump meat.)

The Trumpster does have a few things going for him……
As the head of state, in the highest ranking office, he would have even more Trump cards to play. He's a natural leader when he carries all the Trump cards...and it would be very hard for other world leaders to out Trump him. He also would have no problem looking someone straight in the eye, pointing at them, and telling them “YOU’RE FIRED.” (His phrase is also branded.) Most importantly, his wife would be the First Hot Lady.

Anywhooooooooooooo………

I’m a Republican (thank you very much)…but I’m not sure if I could vote for Donald. I agree with some of his statements…but…I might have to part ways…with his hairstyle.


Should The Donald decide to run for office…I offer a possible slogan (free of charge)…….. “Comb On Over to the Trump side.”

A Warm Spot for Nic Cage

Are you sick of hearing about another celeb flipping out? Every other day there is some celebrity, with some woman, doing some drinking, and a little something something.

This time it is Nicholas Cage.

Cage was arrested in New Orleans after drunkenly yelling at his wife over where their rental house was located. Don't you hate it when you forget where you live? Anyway, the cops were called and Nic being Nic...dared them to arrest him. (Note to self: Don't ever dare a cop.)

So Big Deal...just another celeb gone belligerent. But for me, this celeb is different because................
Nic and I are on a first name basis...
Well...not really.
Because we were once together...
in the same bar...and we shared the same couch.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Here's my Nic Cage Story.

PaulA and I and some friends were in NYC and decided to stop by the Whiskey Park for a night cap. After all...we are cool people, walking around...doing cool things.

And who do we see in the bar??? Nic Cage. And he didn't look happy. He actually looked pissed off. Of course he was surrounded by his peeps...but they weren't talking to him. They knew to stay clear or get their heads bit off.

If Nic was auditioning for a part that called for: brooding, sullen, and tormented...he would have had the part. NO Question. He wouldn't even have to read any lines...just give his Nic look.

During this Whiskey Bar scene, he was very quiet as he sat on a couch and stared at the floor. No one dared to bother him or autograph hound him. Heck, I wasn't about to go over and ask for an autograph. I knew better and apparently everyone there did too.

After 30 minutes of his Oscar winning performance...a limo pulled up and he left the scene...with this entourage in tow.

That's when I made my move. I ran over to the couch and sat down in his spot. And it was still warm. OOOoooooooo Feel the heat.

Anywhooooooooooo..................

Speaking as someone who really knows Nic, take my advice:

If Nic is in character with his brooding look...Stay Away. Do NOT talk to him...or bother him for an autograph. If he can't find his way home...help him out...before he loses his cool.

And if he gets up from a couch...sit right down. He leaves a nice warm spot.

Making Waves

When you marry someone, you marry everything that comes with them. You know THE vows... "in sickness and in health, in holey blue t-shirt and old brass lamp." Your spouse's favorite stuff is part of them. It's a package deal.

So when I married PaulA...I married his waterbed. Or the H2Obed, as I like to call it. (The Periodic Table of Elements is one of my favorite things.)

When we moved to Jacksonville, FL, I casually suggested leaving the H2Obed behind and buying a regular bed...but that idea was dead in the water as soon as I mentioned it.

Man Overboard! You would have thought I suggested something drastic...like kill it with scissors, and have it die a slow leak. PaulA poked so many holes in my argument that it didn't hold water with him. Being the compromising Kat that I am...I decided I didn't want to make waves. Blood is thicker than water, so I decided I should compromise.

We took the plunge...and the H2Obed moved with us.

Get a hose. Fill 'er up.

Anywhoooooooooooooooooooo........................

I eventually learned to sleep on the high seas. When PaulA would roll over and create a 3-foot wave, I learned to move with the wave and not fight it. Sometimes the undertow would take me back out and I'd go completely under and resurface; gasping for air. But that just happened maybe once or twice.

Over time I learned the advantage and power of the big waves. The H2Obed was especially helpful when I became pregnant. When I got so large that getting out of bed became difficult, PaulA would start a wave from his side and I would ride that wave out of bed. Hang 10.

When Baby C was born...she too learned to ride the waves. She could Hang 10 with her adorable baby toes.

But alas...you can lead a horse to water, but not make a Kat drink. When we later moved to St. Louis, the H2Obed did not make the journey. Come hell or high water...the idea of another H2Obed move was dead in the water with me. I knew PaulA would not like my suggestion, but I was willing to risk being in hot water with him.

I'm not sure if H2Obeds are popular anymore...or if it was just a fad, a craze, a thang. But I like to think back and remember ...my cute lifeguard, PaulA and his H2Obed...back in the day.

A Taxing Time

If you are a tax  procrastinator...today is your LUCKY DAY.

Don't get too excited...it's not like you can be delinquent like the delinquent Richard Hatch.  Even if you are a survivor on a remote island...you cannot escape the long arms of THE MAN.

(Question to self:  Why am I calling the IRS ...the man? It must be a 70s throwback.)

It so happens that this  year we have been given a reprieve of more time.  Federal income taxes aren't due until Monday, April 18th.  Far out.  Three more days to think about them, talk about them, stress over them, and do nothing. 

And with e-filing...we don't have to truck on down to the post office.  Right on brother.

Taxes are one of those tasks we tend to put off until the  last possible minute, unless of course, the man OWES us...our own hard earned  bread. (Love 70s slang.)

Each year filing taxes is a pain..and a reminder of who we are really working for.  And it ain't THE Donald. 

I play a minor supporting  role in getting our 1040 prepared.  My job is to come up with the totals for charitable donations.   (Question to H&R Blockheads ...is The Treatment Center for Whacky Obsessive Bloggers  considered a deductible charitable expense?)  

Anywhooooo................

Do you know why your taxes aren't due until Monday? Or a better question...Do you care why your taxes aren't due until Monday?  Like the man...I'm   gonna stick it to you anyway.  

The reason is that April 15th is a holiday in  Washington D.C.  Washington normally celebrates Emancipation Day on April 16th but because this year it falls on a Saturday..the day of observance was moved to Friday, the 15th. Dig it?

So tax day got bumped.    And nothing is better than the  bump...unless of course it's the hustle.

As the saying goes...there are some things you can't escape...death...taxes...and blogs about deathly taxes.

Go ahead...Sock it to me!

Curry Rant

I have to share an email Sistersledge recently sent me:

Subject: !Rant!

Ann Curry sucks! She doesn't know how to interview someone who has gone through a traumatic experience! Someone should give her a script to follow because she doesn't have a clue. Her low comforting voice is stupid!

Have a nice day!

I got a real kick out Sistersledge's email for three reasons:
1. Ranting apparently runs in our family.
2. Ann Curry does SUCK. (Like. A. Hoover.)
3. When a rant is followed by "Have a nice day"...the "ranter" looks less like Charlie Sheen.

I couldn't agree more with Sistersledge. PaulA and I are always yelling at the TV during Curry interviews...especially if it is with someone who has suffered emotional or physical hardship. Suddenly it becomes the Ann Curry Show.

In an effort to come off as empathetic and sympathetic...Curry goes over the top. She hunches her shoulders, leans toward the person, and pats their knee. (Sometimes the essence of Curry can be too strong.) Her voice turns deep and serious, and her head nods like a bobblehead doll. I'm thinking her serious tone comes from envisioning her life without her 3 million dollar/yr salary.

It takes her about 5 minutes to get through one rambling, stumbling question...then she cuts them off when they begin answering.

Anywhooooooooooooooooooo.............................

I'm not saying NBC should fire Curry. It would be hard to rid the studio of Curry. Curry has real staying power.

Curry does have some benefits (beside medicinal). Curry is good on assignments...far away from the studio. She's reported from war zones and even bungee jumped off a bridge. You could never call her chicken Curry.

So who are Kat and Sistersledge to judge her? I realize there are those who are real fans of Curry.

Different spices for different palates. I prefer sweet and sour over Curry any day.

HAVE A NICE DAY!

Squirrel Gone Wild

If you live in Bennington, Vermont...you better think twice about leaving your house. You could be jumped from behind...by a squirrel.

Okay, I realize this sounds like just another nutty story from Kat, but it's TRUE. Apparently there is a feisty squirrel terrorizing the townspeople of Bennington.

I realize that some folks have a fear of squirrels...squirrellyphobia. The mere thought of them drives them nuts...straight into macadamia madness.

Being from Vermont, I am used to seeing squirrels. Heck, some of my best friends were squirrelly, so I never understood the phobia. Squirrels seem so little and innocent...innocently playing with their nuts all day. But apparently the fear of a squirrel-gone-wild is justified. And I thought spring break was over already.

This particular squirrel isn't one of those nice flying squirrels that saves the day from Boris and Natasha types. He's the Freddy Krueger of Squirrels...jumping out of nowhere and on the backs of Vermonters. He's the Nightmare of Bennington's Elm Street.

The Vermont Chamber of Commerce can't be happy with this bad publicity. "Visit Bennington, Vermont - home of the Satonic Squirrel." They would prefer to be known for their gorgeous green mountains, amazing ski resorts, and yummy Ben and Jerry's ice cream.

Great Idea for a new Ben and Jerry's flavor: the Nutty Squirrel...maple ice cream chocked full of acorns.

Anywhooooooooooo...............................

What makes a squirrel want to scare the bejesus out of innocent Vermonters? That question is a tough nut to crack. It could have something to do with all that clean Vermont air.

Fresh air breeds tough, badass creatures who will bust a nut if they have to. I would venture to say, this particular squirrel, like a lot of Vermont creatures, has balls to go along with its nuts.

Let the Flogging Begin

With the promise of the spring season comes the anticipation of birds singing, daffodils blooming, and the game of GOLF.

Gimme a G...O...L...F. Whatta ya got?

FLOG. That's golf spelled backwards and that's what occurs when I play the game. I flog myself with a stick for 18 holes. And boy does it hurt. YOUCH.

Each spring season I am excited about the game...as are most golfers. I'm always hopeful that during the winter a fairy magically granted me golf skills...and turned me into a decent, respectable player. Instead of granting me the usual magically delicious Lucky Charms.

Anywhooooooooo................

When I first get out for the season, I actually play well. Everything is par for the course (just an expression. I'm not that accurate.) The sun is shining...the course is pretty...and I'm out with friends. What could be more fun than playing golf with my peeps on a nice sunny day? Well...maybe drinking wine with my peeps...any day.

I even manage to drive the ball in the fairway...make some good chips...and a few good putts. That's exactly when I start thinking "I got game." And my friends start thinking it too. The bubbles over their heads say, "Yes! The fairy golf god finally visited Kat. Woo Hoo."

Unfortunately just as my peeps start thinking there is hope for my game...my game turns to flogging. That's when reality shits. I mean, hits. P.U. My game stinks.

It only takes a few rounds before I realize I'm STILL the hack golfer that I was last season.

So after another specialty Kat trick shot...one where my ball bounces off two trees and then lands back at my feet...I notice them rubbing their noses. I knew it ...my peeps think I stink too.

Ahhh Spring. Anticipation of another flogging season.

Baby FACE

I couldn't resist writing about this picture. Plus I got NADA, ZILCH, CRAP to write about today. So I'll start with this picture and see where it take me.





I'm not related to this little monkey baby...but I would totally take it.
Okay, well...not steal the baby. I wouldn't steal it...that's wrong.
I'd have the baby...except I wouldn't want to give birth to it...
I'd take care of it...Well, maybe...I'd babysit it...
for a few hours...when I wasn't busy.

And by "it"...I mean "baby." But I do adore this baby face.

Anywhoooooooo........................

My other favorite baby...other than the three I birthed....is the eTrade baby. Oh, so cute and Oh, so smart. I guess my three were a little slow. They didn't start trading until they were 3 years old...and then they were just day trading their toys.

I have to admit, I'm not a big fan of the new baby in the eTrade commericials. Apparently, I'm not the only one who thinks that. Some have said that the new eTrade baby is ugly. Hey, there's no such thing as an ugly baby. That's an oxymoron...moron.

Unfortunately the original eTrade baby grew itself out of work...so they were forced to replace him. But not successfully.

Let's face it baby...most originals are hard to replace.

Even Charlie Sheen in 2.5 Men is hard to replace. Think about it...Who could the network find that has both Tiger Blood and Adonis DNA...to take Sheen's place?

Not so easy.

Huskies - Best In Show

The dog contest is over. By now we all know what dog was BEST IN SHOW...The University of Connecticut HUSKIES! Woof Woof

Okay, so the show wasn't exactly pretty.

Okay, so the show was kinda ugly.

But the Huskies were less ugly than the Bulldogs. (I could have told you that before the game. But maybe you like the Bulldog wrinkled snout and underbite.)

As spectators, we might have seen a lot more panting than prancing...a lot more fatigue than finesse, but it was still a fun show to watch. So we should throw them a bone. Or a biscuit.

So what caused both dogs to not perform like they normally do in the grand ring? Were the Bulldogs and Huskies distracted...by the size of the arena...the bright lights...the spectators? People screaming and waving their hands can pull a dog off his mark.

Anywhoooooooooooooooo...............

Every dog has his day, but this was the Huskies' night. The Huskies' handler, Jim Calhoun, had spent all season grooming his dogs for this big show. And the Huskies beat out their competition in all areas of show: appearance, agility, structure, movement, and temperament.

Granted, Calhoun had a good pedigree to work with, but they are young Huskies...many are mere pups...EXCEPT for Top Dog, Kemba.

The score was the Final JUDGE. 53-41

HUSKIES.....BEST IN SHOW

(ps. If any teams with dog mascots are in the final next year, I'm in big doggie-do. I've exhausted all dog references.)

Dog Fight in Houston

Dog fighting is illegal...except when it's the University of Connecticut Huskies VS the Butler University Bulldogs in the NCAA Basketball Tournament.

And Ladies and Gentlemen...this game promises to be a dog-eat-dog contest in the heart of Houston. Hot diggity dog meat. Both teams will want to dominate early and will fight each other to the bitter end...to be the last dog standing.

The Bulldogs are dogs to watch...if you can get past their ugly faces. I prefer the face of the Husky. This Kat is rooting for UCONN. After all, I do live in Connecticut, and I also sing the National Anthem at Husky games. Besides my Alma mater is the University of Vermont, which doesn't make a habit of going to the NCAA Basketball Tournment. (Different story on ice and snow.)

The Final is being held at Reliant Stadium on a big stage...big in importance and big in place. Everything is BIG in Texas. Both dogs want to play their best and will refuse to dog-it before the final minute has been played.

Both the Huskies and the Bulldogs have played before in a Final for the National Championship. Both dogs have worked hard and been trained every trick in the playbook. Rolling over and playing dead is NOT an option. They will be expected to follow every command from their leader...or end up in the doghouse.

When asked....they will jump. Or run. Or chase. Or sit and stay on the bench. (And beg to get back in the fight.) It will be a tough dog fight and not a walk in the park...but an ole fashioned licking. Anyway it goes....sometimes it's the lucky dog that ends up being top dog.

Anywhooooooooooooo.................

There will be a lot of people watching the dog fight tonight. Whether courtside among 75,000 other fans, on television, or online...there will be big names and celebs tuning in...like the Bush's and Snoop Dog. You can bet Michael Vick will also be watching...he hates to miss a good dog fight.

Should the Huskies become dominant over the Bulldogs and win this dog fight...it will be a BIG treat for the Huskies AND all their fans.

GO HUSKIES!

GOTCHA

It's April First...so watch out today for pranks, mischief, and tomfoolery...you never know where it will come from. It can even come from reputable sources...professors, the newspaper, the radio...the PaulA.

About ten years ago on April 1st, Burger King announced they were offering the "Left-handed Whopper." The condiments were rotated 180 degrees so the toppings would no longer squish out from the right side of the bun. Equal rights for lefty burger lovers.

Thousands of customers requested the new left-handed Whopper...and others made sure they got the original right-handed burger. Apparently there were a lot of gulp-able people who swallowed that one WHOLE. But why wouldn't they...we have left-hand scissors? It might even be a mandate in the "Bill of Equal Handed Rights." Hey, you gotta hand it to BK...(left or right?)...What a Whopper of a prank.

I used to love April Fool's Day when the kids were little.
Colinboy would limp in the door after school and say, "Mom, I broke my leg. APRIL FOOL'S! Then he'd take off in a full sprint across the room.
Big C would put on a sad face and say, "Mom, I flunked my spelling test. APRIL FOOL'S! I got a 100!
Wishy would get excited and yell, "Momma, there's a big spider behind you! APRIL FOOL'S.
Those pranksters were so clever. I don't how they did it...but they GOT me every time.

Anywhooooooooooo...............

Everyone is a jokester on April 1st...even PaulA. This morning he sent an email to the family that he was getting his head shaved before noon for charity and would send out a picture later.

PaulA's brother emailed back: I hope you don't end up looking like that shooter in Arizona. But the kids freaked...at least for a little while. Big C called me from work and Colinboy kept texting me.

I hated to do it...but I had to play along with PaulA's ruse...at least for a little while. I thought of all those time those little devils GOT me.....
Pay Back is a Bitch.

Kudos to PaulA for a clever April Fool's GOTCHA.

PS. Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit