The Tale of a Little Bunny

It was a dream that seemed completely unattainable.

Ever since I was a little girl, I desperately wanted to catch a wild rabbit and make it my own. I wanted to play with it. Pet it. Be a friend.

I would chase them, but never catch one.

I gave up the hope, but never the dream.

On Monday, my mom called me and asked me to come over because she had a surprise.

A surprise, indeed!

She had rescued a little baby bunny from the razor-sharp fangs of a blood-thirsty hound. The wildlife center where she volunteered simply didn't have room for him. So, she was going to take care of him herself and release him in a week.

I couldn't believe it! A baby bunny! A wild rabbit!

He wasn't much fun at first. He didn't move much and barely ate. He didn't like being held. But as the days went on, he brightened up. He started eating (loved apples and hated cabbage). He loved to snuggle in my lap (his favorite was getting his ears rubbed). He was curious and would hop all over the couch, ears perking up at all the colorful sights around the room. He even licked my arm, which is the ultimate sign of affection from a rabbit. It means they've bonded with you to the point where they want to groom you.

It seemed he was finally ready for release, so we had planned to take him to a nearby park this afternoon. I was crushed we had to let him go, but I figured that perhaps it was for the best. After all, he would meet new friends and perhaps have a family of his own one day.

But he died this morning.

His internal injuries must have been worse than we thought. His eyes were open, which meant he probably had been awake until the end.

It breaks my heart. I can only hope that I provided him some happiness and comfort during his pain. I hope that he knew how much I loved him.

Goodbye, baby bunny.

Are you a dirty girl?

I'm going to be completely honest.

Dirty Girl is not the greatest movie in the world.

The dialogue is syrupy. The premise is cheesy. The music is awkward.

But none of that matters because this movie is FUN.

It's kind of like the theatrical version of a strawberry Starburst. It's a unnaturally sweet. It's just a tiny bit sour. It's not good for you at all. But when you look back, you don't regret opening that wrapper.

This 2010 film revolves around Danielle (Juno Temple) who is the ultimate dirty girl. She's a promiscuous little bad ass suffering through high school in the mid-1980s. As if that isn't bad enough, she lives in a little trailer with her crazy mom.

The sassy blonde is forced to partner with a miserable overweight gay kid, Clarke (Jeremy Dozier), for a homework assignment and the two realize they have more in common than they thought: they're both outsiders and hopelessly misunderstood.

When Danielle realizes her mom intends on marrying a creepy religious man, she persuades Clarke to drop everything and cross the country to search for her real father.

There's bad singing. There's dancing. There's heartache. There's realization.

It sorted reminded me of Napoleon Dynamite fused with Mean Girls.

The cast of Dirty Girl is pretty amazing. William H. Macy, Milla Jovovitch, and Mary Steenburgen are just a few of the big names. Plus, I was pretty impressed with the two young stars.

It's important to note the film highlights the struggles of gay acceptance, which is obviously our civil rights movement right now.

It's a poignant little film perfect for a girls night in or lazy afternoon.

I highly recommend netflixing it.

The most iconic woman you don't know

She's a legend.

And chances are, you probably don't even know her name.

Moms Mabley.

A stage name, of course. But one that became a household name and world-wide sensation in the 1950s and 60s.

She was once deemed the "funniest woman in the world."

But her childhood was far from humorous.

The great-granddaughter of a slave, Jackie "Moms" Mabley was born in North Carolina in 1897. When she was 11, her father, a businessman and volunteer firefighter, died when his fire truck exploded. Soon after, her mom was killed by a mail truck on Christmas morning.

By the time she was 15, the orphan had been raped twice, once by an older black man and another time by a white sheriff. Both rapes resulted in pregnancy. Both babies were given up for adoption.

Her step-father encouraged her to get married, but her grandmother convinced her to strike out on her own. After all, she had singing and dancing talent which couldn't be ignored. Following her grandma's advice, Jackie ran off to Cleveland to join a traveling show.

It was the best decision she ever made. Realizing her sense of humor was far more spectacular than her dancing gams, Jackie turned to comedy. It wasn't long before Jackie was discovered by a famous vaudeville duo and they asked her to join them.

Soon, Jackie was performing at legendary venues, such as the Cotton Club, the Savoy Ballroom, and later, the Apollo Theater. During the 1920s Harlem Renaissance Jackie had become part of an elite circle of performers and jazz musicians who would shape the world.

And although she was having relationships with both men and women, Jackie kept her sexuality to herself. After all, she believed sexuality was something to be expressed, not defined.

Her risqué stand-up comedy routines shocked and delighted audiences who had never encountered someone like her before. She dressed like a man. She talked openly about subjects like racism.

In 1960, she made history by performing for a white audience at Carnegie Hall. It was so successful, her career took off even further, earning her guest appearances on all the hottest television shows of the era.

Her persona, as a frumpy grumpy ol' woman, became one of the most recognized characters in showbiz.

Well into her 60s, Jackie was already shaping the future of comedy for women...and for everyone. She went on to record more than two dozen comedy albums. At 75 years old, she even became the oldest person to ever have a top 40 hit.

In 1975, Jackie passed away from heart failure. She was survived by four children (in addition to the two she had given up for adoption).

Strangely and sadly, her status as a comedic pioneer vanished into thin air after her death. When we look back on the history of comedy, we think of other names first.

Fortunately, Whoopi Goldberg is going to change that soon.

Frustrated that nobody had ever heard of the comedienne who inspired her entire career, Whoopi decided to produce and direct an HBO documentary called "Moms Mabley: I Got Something to Tell You," which will air this fall.

A little late for her legend to be remembered, but better late than never, right?