is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
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BuffyTwo the Bison: Electric Buffaloo.
Last weekend, on the subway, Gus and I were seated across from an advertisement emblazoned with a photo of a cute penguin. I have no idea what the advertisement was for. But, after looking at it for awhile, I said, "I would like to hug a penguin." After some silence, Gus said, "they probably smell bad."
Now, what is it with people and their hyper-realistic responses to my fanciful declarations? I mean, do you think I'm ever really going to be in a position to hug a penguin? But "they probably smell" is the SAME THING that Halliday said to me at the top of Mount Hoffman in Yosemite when, despite having to be on constant guard to keep marmots from stealing my sandwich (which seemed hilarious at the time because we were at almost 11,000 feet and I lacked oxygen), I declared that marmots look huggable. He then added that my marmot looked mangey.
And so I gave Gus the same answer I gave Halliday. MY penguin would be penguin-bathed with Gee Your Penguin Smells Terrific Brand Penguin Wash, and thus would smell like roses, or squeaky clean penguins, or Fracas de Robert Piguet (and you can't really top that). My penguin and I would hug all the time.
The time that Evany bought me a stuffed bison gives us the counter-example of how you might deal with my love of animal-hugging. We were in the midst of driving across the country, the long way, taking mostly 2-lane highways and doing lots of stopping, hiking, diner-food eating, and so on. We were in Yellowstone, in the gift shop, after having spent the day climbing mountains and spotting bears and bison and elk and all manner of animals you don't really want to run into in the wild, or hug. I was looking at the stuffed bison because it was so cute, but for some reason I wouldn't let myself buy it. I was having one of those crazy grown-woman-doesn't-need-stuffed-animal moments. Or I was thinking: I am moving across the country with a car full of crap... do I need a bison? But anyway, I walked away.
The next morning (and I am certain that if I searched this diary I would find that I have told this story at least twice before, but I'm the boss) Evany went to go get coffee and when she returned her purse was strangely bulge-y. She said, "hey! wait, oh, how did THIS get in here?!", heh, and handed me my very own stuffed animal bison, which I promptly hugged and named Buffy the Bison. Buffy rode on the back dash during the day and slept in bed with me at night. She made it through a full year in Amherst, and then moved to Pennsylvania with me.
But she didn't survive a 3-day trip back to Amherst. I flew back to throw a birthday party for my friend Tom, and his dog Pip destroyed Buffy. It was sad. Even sadder was how sad I was in a house full of people who could not understand what a grown woman was doing traveling with a stuffed bison in the first place.
And you, reader, you are on one side or the other of this divide. Either it makes perfect sense to you that I would like to hug a stuffed animal while sleeping or you think it is cuckoopants. It's OK with me either way.
Oh, and instead of letting Tom throw Buffy in the garbage I brought her carcass home in a bag thinking I'd sew her back together, but that didn't end up being feasible.
It was much worse than when Birdy (the dog) mauled Dolph (the pink stuffed dolphin I used to keep at Caroleen's for when I stayed there). Dolph lost an eye, but got a stylish pink eyepatch.
Dolph has a longer name but there's a story attached to it and, really, how much more can you take of this just now?
Anyway, about a year after Pip destroyed Buffy, my dad bought me a stuffed bison for xmas. It wasn't the same kind of stuffed bison, but it sure was cute. Her name is BuffyTwo the Bison: Electric Buffaloo. (This is in the tradition of Pinkemily Oneword Duckinson, a pink duck named by my sister and given to me.)
Buffytwo lives in Brooklyn, with Siegroy the White Tiger. Dolph lives in Philadelphia. Pinkemily was destroyed by a washing machine. It is a dangerous world out there. Always hug a penguin when you can.
11:45 p.m. - November 20, 2008
sduckie - 2008-11-21 06:17:57
The other day my friend and I were looking at a magazine and came across a picture of a penguin; she promptly announced, "I hate penguins." I found this statement amusing and odd. She has never met a penguin in person (penguin). So why all the rage?
But at least your entry makes sense to me. Who hates penguins for no good reason? Whereas it is more reasonable to want to hug a cute animal. Thanks for the story.
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Texas Cousin - 2008-11-21 21:56:20
Hey where are you going for Thanksgiving? We'd love to see you in Vermont if you are around. Otherwise we are in the city tomorrow-Monday. Let's try to hook up if poss.
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Vladimir Estragon - 2008-11-22 07:49:53
I used to rather like penguins, until I saw that interminable "March of the Penguins" movie at the drive-in. (We were waiting for "American Graffiti" to start.) When the horror finally ended, there was a collective groan of relief from adults throughout the audience. Now, I don't care if they smell, or freeze their eggs, or are eaten by Morgan Freeman. They're dead to me.
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meow - 2008-11-25 03:07:49
Just this morning I was thinking "Gee, Emily smells pretty bad. I need to wash her."
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