Sunday, June 12, 2005


Hey, 'yall!
There are a couple of things that folks that don't know me very well keep asking me. One is, "How did you get the name 'Bunky'?" And the other is "What's up with this 'Bunny and Baja' thing?"

So here's the story:

Bunky was my name long before anyone called me Carolyn. My grandmother told me that my dad was standing outside the nursery just after I was born, peering in, and said,"That's my Bunky." Someone said,"Are you really going to name her that?" He said,"Carol (his wife, my mother) will never let me do that." He was right, and they named me after her instead. But no one ever called me Carolyn until I was a teen, and my family and close friends still call me Bunky. So when I joined Mohave and everyone had a nickname, I gave them mine. I think it fits me better, and was given to me out of love, so I'm keeping it.

Bunny and Baja:

They are two plush rabbits- the kind you find at Walgreens in pre-packed Easter Baskets. Jeff was looking tired and sad one day after a hard work day and I made one of them talk to him. He laughed really hard, and I felt like I had something there. That was Bunny. Dust E. Bunny, to be exact.
His character quickly developed into a Little-Lord Fonterleroi-meets Queer-Eye and Priscilla, Queen of the Desert -- a permanently three-year old snooty kid who enjoys shopping, cross dressing and window dressing, and drinking Mai Tais on the beach, is mad about Starbucks and Donna Karan, and thinks Jeff is his father. He is the perfect Odd Couple to pair as best friend to Baja, who came later.
Baja was in an Easter Basket I got Jeff. He really got his name from the Baja Beach Club, where we would go to blow off steam. But his story is that among his people, babies get their names from whatever their mothers spouts out at the moment they are born. HIs father's name was Baja, and he was the eleventh and last of the litter. His Mom thought she was done, but the doc said "one more." "God Dammit, Baja!", she holered. So he is now known as G.D. Baja, or just "Baja"since he thinks "God" is a bit pretentious.
His character developed into a 73-year old former scientist and CIA agent who is on the run contsantly from the Feds after that "I think I lost your Aircraft Carrier...Sorry..." incident.
He hides out, hanging with us, and turning all of our appliances into "exciting pyrotechnic devices." (So in other words, if you're over here, don't touch the VCR. In fact, if it has any buttons or knobs, or can be operated with a remote, it is best to stay at least 15 ft. away...)
He talks a lot. A whole lot. And his English is broken and difficult to understand. His main language is Carrotfootian, but he speaks countless others. You can sometimes hear him on our answering machine, so don't be alarmed.

Did you really read all of this? Good Lord! I'm so sorry!


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