Urban Cougars

Zeus and I often laugh about the phenomenon of the "Urban Cougar" (and indeed, I even outdid myself by purchasing a "Cougar Hunter" tshirt for Christmas!) but lately that idea has taken on new meaning for me. Who else has noticed a lot of Cougar prowling going on lately? And by Cougar prowling, I mean law school girls getting "drunk" and lingering around parties/bars/street corners until the wee hours waiting for law school guys (and the occasional townie) to get juuuuust drunk enough to "fall behind the herd." It's like watching a lioness hunting a wildebeast - she waits until the weakest wildebeast has fallen behind the rest of the herd, and then...she POUNCES! She latches on to the wounded wildebeast and drags him, weak, helpless and alone, back to her lair.
And no, I am not describing my personal dating style. I just found it interesting to notice a little urban jungle role reversal going on here. No longer are men the predators - nay, now men have to travel in groups and, like the Canadian Monty, leave no man behind, lest some starved, ruthless cougar should stalk him and drag him off to parts unknown. Be wary, men, because now the ladies are the hunters and the men are the hunted.
Although that doesn't leave us in any prized position - I'm not exactly looking for a weak, wounded wildebeast, if you know what I mean. So I guess the like minded women out there will just have to be content with a glass of brandy and the heads we've already got mounted in our saloons (ooh, the innuendo...so good!) and wait for the next big game migration.

(Ok, that does it - Big Game Hunting is officially my new favorite metaphor, surpassing discussing people like foreign nations, i.e. the "International State of The Roni," and their interactions like trade negotiations, detente, or war.)

More Things That Rock

[Initial Thing That Rocks removed due to sensitive nature of the topic and fear of adverse repercussions. Anyone interested in a story of The Roni's own humiliation can email her for the exerpted portion of this post. Needless to say, it rocked.]

What else rocks? The Bunny ROCKS. Why? Who else would, upon hearing something she found marginally offensive (presumably a dangling participle - nothing's more obnoxious), immidiately throw down and start shit right there on the street. Sure she broke her nose, got two black eyes and may or may not have a contract out on her life in several countries, including Nicaragua, but you don't even want to see the other guy. Unsavory. So you go, Bunny, for being the meanest, toughest, most pugilistic of The Panty Posse. All the ladies can breathe a sigh of relief knowing you have our backs. And most of the dudes can too, because let's face it, when was the last time any of them threw down? Grade school? Maybe. But I doubt it.

More things that rock? Spring time. You know what it makes me want to do? Take my pants off and dance in chocolate pudding. And no, that wasn't an overshare. That was merely a preview of what's to come when The Roni finally moves into The House That Love Built. The ladies in residence will be sponsoring the aforementioned chocolate pudding wrestling party in the fall to celebrate - mark your calendars.

And finally, what rocks the most, more than pudding and frosty margaritas and small furry animals with anger management problems? GEORGE MASON BASKETBALL!! That's right folks, The Roni is making a bold statement with that one, but who can deny it? Everyone likes a come from behind victory (please, spare me - I saw it, ok? I certainly don't need you to point out the dirty double entendres for me - pretty much got them covered on my own, thank you very much) but this one takes the cake. I was lucky enough to be COURTSIDE for the game on sunday, and let's just say that I needed several hits from the defibrillator to keep me from going into massive tachycardia.
I'll give you some highlights:
We'll start back a few weeks when a certain CBS announcer may or may not have said something to the effect that Mason did not deserve to get a bid to the big dance. Well, a big thank you very much to that announcer who shall remain nameless when the MCI center (oops, Verizon center) erupted in a "BILLY PACKER" chant at the end of the game. That was awesome.
Also awesome, but in an "oh my god, I can feel my own heart stopping" kind of way? When Tony Skinn missed his freaking foul shots towards the end of regulation time and thus failed to ice their win and thus opened the door for The Bane of My Existence (well, one of the many) to TIE THE FREAKING GAME AT THE BUZZER. I swear I saw Blue and started heading towards the Light when that happened. It was like a scene from Flatliners.
Awesomer than that? The minute Calhoun realized Mason had done it. The stunned, "bring me the cattle prod" look on his face was vraiment sans prix. Made the whole thing that much more sweet. He can take his "we're basically playing a road game," "don't have a full day off" griping and shove it up his Boston-accent-spewing pie hole.
And finally, the best of all moments? Seeing Pappa Roni on stage with the team in a Championship hat and shirt.

So there you have it, from me to you, a few things that rock. I hope you enjoyed our time together. I know I have.

For Shame!

I've been shamed by my adoring fans who post comments more than I publish!! 'Tis truly a disservice both to the public, who cannot survive on bread alone - nay, they need The Roni - and to The Roni herself who is studying instead of posting!
Now that's a damn lie, and we all know it. In fact, if you must know the truth, The Roni has been too busy with her head up her own enormous ass to lock it up. You know those spells where you get so wrapped up with the day to day goings on that you completely lose track of your priorities? (Also, btw, I just had to ask The Bunny how to spell "lose." You're lucky she's here, or else you'd just have read "completely loose track of your priorities?" Listen, The Roni has a tremendously fabulous J-Lo/Mimi-esque ass, you can't expect her to be good at everything!)Well I just emerged from one of those spells. I was so busy thinking about going to the gym and my fabulous array of aerobics classes, and shopping online for beauty products from Bliss, and wearing my fabulous new blue suede Marc Jacobs pumps, and well, mostly just daydreaming about all the potential love in the air, that I completely forgot what really matters in this world. And I would like to thank the NCAA and all my Close Personal Friends, who reminded me that what really matters in this crazy, mixed up place we call Charvegas (note, dear readers, I did not say "The Real World." Because what matters there escapes me, and I'd prefer not to hurt my brain by thinking on any more grand a scale then TGLSOAT) is sitting in a sports bar drinking $3 big girl Bud Lights and eating as much fried food as possible with people who think you're awesome and who you think are awesome. Really, could there be anything better than that? No. And that's why day dreaming about sunshine and roses and people you'd really really like to like you, while fun and helpful in wiling away those dreary hours "in class" (you fools! I can't believe you still buy into that!), just isn't where your head needs to be right now.
This weekend was the perfect reminder of how great bars are (BARS!! I have missed you since January, the last I saw you - damn you Feb Club!) and how freaking fabulous college basketball is, and how awesome it is to sit around and shoot the shit with hilarious people. (Lucky all you who get to share a booth with The Roni at BW2s because she is hilarious!) Even better if you're on the softball field with those people and they say awesome things to your largely all-girls softball team like "On the count of three, everyone get your period!" or "what time is it? I can't tell because there isn't a stove around!"
And that brings me to my second (third? 18th? I can't keep track - I'm a girl, so numbers are hard for me...) point. I freaking love softball. I used to kind of tolerate it, then I stopped playing entirely, but then I gave it a second chance, and like Tequila, when you turn away from it for a while and then come back, it's better than ever. (That is also a daggum lie. You should know that The Roni hates tequila. They used to be intimate. It ended badly. She never wants to have anything to do with it again, unless it's in a delicious, delicious Margarita. Preferably the ones made by Foxxy because those are DAMNED good. Speaking of which, you know what sounds good right now? Margaritas. But I digress...) In the past week I have played more softball than I know what to do with myself. But it all reminds me what matters in this world. My head is clear now, and I see that I need to spend more time in bars, drinking beers, eating fried food, playing softball (preferably with aforementioned beers) and chilling with the Panty Posse, and Zeus and all the rest of that loveable cast of characters. Forget about the suck that can be Charvegas and remember the sheer unadulterated awesomeness that it can be. So everyone get to a bar, get on the field, raise a frosty mug and celebrate the fact that we have a year and a bit more to enjoy the High Life, the Champagne of...well, that metaphor ended with a dull thud. But you see where I was going with that.

Spring is in the air

The gods are aligned against The Roni. As much as she wants to put her feet up and get comfy with a big glass of bitter, jaded cynicism, it seems that everyone, everywhere is standing in her way.
First it was spring break. The Roni spent the past week in Paris being surrounded beautiful sights, beautiful lovers, beautiful fois gras and pain au chocolate, and I'll be damned if I could muster up the strength to be bitter. It was just too plumb hard.
And then I come back, and what do I find but gorgeous, 80 degree weather and all the smiling faces of the Panty Posse welcoming me back. It all made me, dare I say it, optimistic!
And then, and here the gods really must have been plotting, but I got my belated valentine's day present from The NS - which was a lovely book on "The Art of Making Love" - and on the inside cover she had inscribed a little message reminding me of my very own words, to love love and "put our bitter, jaded cynicism to bed." See http://princessandpeanut.blogspot.com/2006/01/love-is-in-air.html (Damn you, internet! Recording my "words" and reminding everyone of my "optimism"! If I want to be a jaded old bag, I should have the right to be, without everyone, ahem, hoisting me on my own petard!)
And so The Roni lay down her sword, as it were. I gave up. Try as I might, I can't fight the gods - once again I am a slave to my own cursed optimism! I love love! I love the birds chirping and the sun shining and flirtatious emails and come hither eyelid batting! I love coyish blushing and naughty minx eyebrow raises! I love it all, damnit! I have been bitten by, as the french say, L'Amour!
Now let's be clear, this is not me saying I am actually in like with anyone in particular. No no no! That ship has sailed. Many times. And that ship has been rejected by foreign ports right and left lately, my friends. So the ship is in the harbor, if you know what I mean. (That made no sense.) My point is simply that, in the spirit of spring and youthful flirtatious, we should all indulge our inner lover for a bit. (Lover pron: luvah) Open that bottle of wine when you're watching 8th and Ocean tonight! Send that elipses-filled email to that certain someone in your 100+ person Crim Adjudication class! Wink at the bartender when you're out on the town!
The pont is this, friends, it's time to get off the bench! Get out there and make something happen. It is the winter of our discontent no longer; spring forward! Preferably on to some fine young thing you've seen around. The Roni is certainly looking to stir up some drama. After all, what else am I going to do this spring if I can't send coyish, witty emails in class?