2 days ago, a friend of my roommates (and also of mine) who used to live in the loft that I live in, surprised us on his way home for Thanksgiving. He brought us a bottle of homemade beer and a painting that his roommate painted.
Without knowing any sort of a tiny piece of the horrible bunny-death fiasco, the painting he gave us depicts a dead rabbit, partially covered in a blanket, with a bottle spilling orange colored liquid just next to him. There is a shopping cart in the background and the painting is called “Homeless Rabbit Dies of Carrot Overdose.” It’s hanging on our living room wall. It absolutely spectacular, I really love it. I want to buy another one of his paintings.
So after we had a little chuckle about that, Mckenna and I went to the house we were at right before the little car incident happened. This group of drunk people were there, and one girl remembered me from a party I threw because I had bunnies in the back yard. Mckenna told her that, unfortunately, the bunnies died…
She started screaming at me, “YOU KILLED YOUR BUNNIES!! YOU KILLED YOUR BUNNIES??!” and no one else knew what was going on and so they started asking, shocked, “You killed your bunny rabbits??! Why did you do that???” The girl continued to yell this, and then the guy standing next to her realized he had a rabbit emblem on the back of his t-shirt and the girl was pointing to the shirt yelling, “You killed your bunnies! You killed this little animal!”
It was so dramatic, I didn’t know what to do… I was shocked. This was before I’d taken any shots, by the way. My eyes welled up, not because I felt sad but because I felt overwhelmed and infuriated! Mckenna was frantically trying to defend me, yelling back, “The bunnies DIED! THEY DIED! She did not kill them!”
And all I got in edge-wise was, “I’m trying to have a good humor about this but I’m having a hard time.”
And then I caught my reflection in the window, wearing a wife beater, a cardigan, dark eyeshadow and a black manicure… and I wondered if I was coming off as prudish and stringent, like some sort of soft animal lover, or if I was coming off as a bad ass since I had black nail polish on. But I decided it was neither.
So now I’m kicking myself for allowing ANYONE to speak to me the way I let that obnoxious slut speak to me. Maybe she was a lost cause anyway, and I don’t negotiate with obnoxious sluts. Moral of the story is:
When an obnoxious slut makes you feel upset, perhaps you should follow your instincts, ignore your better judgement, pound a couple shots, and pound her in the face accordingly. Garnish with carrots, serves 10.
This is me, Warholized.
So tonight Mckenna and I hot tubbed in Avila Beach for an hour and a half, to soak our sore, battered bodies. I feel more sore now than I did before we dipped, but hopefully I’ll feel better in the morn. I’ve got some gnarly bruises and some major swelling on my booty/hip but I’m thankful it’s not a lot worse like it could have been. Happy Monday everyone. We’re almost there, the holiday break is close.