So If You Want To Love Me Then Darlin' Don't Refrain

Arbeit Does Not Make You Frei

I like to keep Mr. Bunndini's blog light hearted and pithy because there are enough bad vibes in the world already but I've been working on a project for the past few days which has made me very reflective. I have been scanning my grandmother's photo albums for a family blog and among the shots of scenic picnics in the alps was this little gem:

My grandmother Hedi and great grandfather Bruno Valentin in the summer of 1935 on an autumn bike ride in Hannover Germany. Jews standing in front of a nazi flag. Doesn't get much more eerie.

My Hatred Of Christmas Starts Earlier Every Year, My Love Of Monkeys Never Wanes.

Christmas carols are making me a shut-in. Sure I could blame my broken foot which is healing at the speed of molasses, my eternal hacking cough or the sub zero temperatures outside but I've dealt with worse. In 1985 I went to see a band at The Arts Club immediately after getting hit on the head with a bottle thrown from a speeding car, knocked unconscious, driven bleeding to the hospital by strangers and stitched and tetanus shotted up. Just last month I was hobbling around The Narrow on a cane doing Jager shots. I can make it through bloodshed, bar fights, bank robberies, break-ups, family dinners and most other uncomfortable situations with a generally positive attitude but something about the month immediately proceeding christmas makes me want to kill. This year I'm not buying anyone over the age of 12 presents and both Pollyanna and Mavis Stapler will be in town so if I can just avoid too many stores with canned holiday music the world should be safe from my wrath.

I'm Not Internationally Known But I'm Known To Rock The Microphone

When life blows sometimes the best thing you can be is a dick.

Wham Bam I Am A Clam

Why can't you do it?

Why can't you set your monkey free?

Always giving in to it 

Do you love your monkey or do you love me?

Why can't you do it

Why do I have to share my baby with a monkey?

With a monkey
Monkey

Lalalalala

St. Elmo's Fire

So as we all know I "mysteriously" broke my foot in Philadelphia many weeks ago but it did not stop me from enjoying the rest of my time in New York with Polyanna and Mavis Stapler (or subsequent business trips to scenic Winnipeg and Kelowna). I also acquired a lung infection because lets face it kids when Mr. Bunndini gets sick he really gets sick; 8 weeks of limping and coughing horrifically loud until I throw up kinda sick. I now appear to be on the mend and would like to thank some of the friends who helped me through the tough times:

Tiny Babybel cheeses they say that great things are only worth having if you have to work hard for them and you and your multiple layers of red shiny packaging prove just that.

Mr. Strub's pickled eggs I wish I knew how to quit you.

I was just a Bunndini standing in front of a Ventolin inhaler asking it to love her. And love me you did. You even loved me when I went out and smoked a cigarette and had a coughing fit at the bar. 

Ciao Bella coconut sorbet from Whole Foods you complete me.

Lasty to my trusty couch Captain Cozy I salute you. I also want to give a shout out to my PVR Mr. Furley who has been my rock for years and continues to stand by me no matter what I put him through.

Her Milkshake Brings All The Monkeys To The Yard

Rhonda and I are going to the McDonald's drive thru window for a couple of happy meals. She's still pissed that I bought her that pack of menthol cigarettes.

The Business Of Monkey

BUSTING A MOVE (verb): Next days function, high class luncheon. Food is served and you're stone cold munchin'. Music comes on, people start to dance but then you ate so much you nearly split your pants. A girl starts walkin, guys start gawkin' sits down next to you and starts talkin'. Says she wanna dance cus she likes the groove so come on fatso and just bust a move.

I Kissed Him, But I Never Knew Him

There are two kinds of people in the world. You're either holding the leash, or you're a monkey wearing a hat.

You're Barking Up The Wrong Bunndini

It's Friday night and the forecast calls for rain (until April) and my broken foot has decided that we (me and my broken foot) are staying in to watch a video of a chimpanzee riding on a segway on youtube over and over. Mr. Bunndini has also deciding that it is officially monkey week and Mr. Bunndini is nothing if not decisive (and a lover of monkeys).

Just Imagine What They Could Do With Opposable Thumbs

A Kiss On the Hand May Be Quite Continental

Cheese Not Children

At Whole Foods you get a 10 cent discount if you bring your own shopping bag so can I get a discount for not having children? One less person on the planet has to be infinitely more environmentally friendly then one less plastic bag in a landfill. We could collect all the points on an airmiles type card and when we'd saved up enough could all go on childless vacations. Huzzah!

Fractured Metatarsal Bone

On my planet "to rest" is to rest, to cease using energy. To me it is quite illogical to run up and down on green grass using energy instead of saving it.

-Spock

All That And A Bag Of Chips

My office buddy Jake prefers sauerkraut to ripple chips on hot dog day. Mustard.

I Want To Spock You Like An Animal

It's almost that time of the year again. The time when Mr. Bunndini tries to find creative ways to avoid his family (and by family I mean mother). They live a mere 10 minute drive away all year long but yet somehow we have to all be together to celebrate every single precious moment of the holiday season including the buying of the tree, trimming of aforementioned tree, hanging the stockings, christmas eve drinking fucking cocoa in front of the fireplace, all day long passive aggressive christmas day, boxing day, the day after boxing day and every second in between. News flash: It happens every year people and also in case you forgot we are jewish atheists so the whole birth of christ conundrum should not really apply to us. It raises the question of which came first the enforced tree trimming party or my hatred of christmas? Please save me.