So I don't really know what to do right now. I'm not exactly well, and I don't want to go fall into an eightball or a keg, and smack is pricey, so hey, why not blog?
Wanna hear a funny story?
I have this thing about Watermelon in the summer. Gotta have it. Like, every night. I go through two or three baby seedless Watermelons a week. I wish I lived in Japan so I could have a pantry full of stackable square Watermelon. I wish I lived on a Watermelon farm. I'd be stained pink.
I have this red tupperware bowl I put the sliced melon into (Jesus H. Christ, this is making me want melon). It's about the same color a really ripe melon is, pinkish, but a hot pink so hot its almost red. A big red bowl full of melon. Yum.
Anyway, one night, my ex and I were hanging out eating melon. He was sitting on the couch and I was on the floor playing with [dog name redacted]. We were watching television, and apparently, my head was blocking his view of the TV. He was all pissy, because he's a dick, and he said something like, "Get your big assed head out of the way!"
I thought, "What the hell do you mean, big head?"
It was kind of a shock. I don't really look in the mirror much, if at all. My brain does this weird little thing when it tries to interpret visual information of it's body's appearance. It comes in in this fun house mirror type way with everything awry, and the mirror adds ten pounds, or in my case, fifty pounds, and my head just becomes this little pin at the top of a mass of warped body tissue. I kind of thought my head was small.
"What are you talking about? My head's not big?"
"Seriously, Bunny? You have one of the biggest balloon heads I've ever seen."
To settle this, I went to my room and got a tape measure; the measurement it provided proved nothing, really, as women don't measure their heads. They measure their waists and tits and asses.
"I don't believe you. My head is totally normal."
"Its huge."
"No it's not."
"It's HUGE Bunny," he said, flailing his little hands about for emphasis. "It's...it's..." he said, looking around the room, spying for something comparable in size. "It's as big as that red bowl."
"Shut the fuck up; it is not."
Now, the bowl is enormous. It's like those bowls you fill with macaroni salad and take to cookouts. You could marinate a whole fuckin' chicken in this bowl, or put several boxes worth of Chex Mix in it for Superbowl.
"There's no way my head is this big. Nuh uh."
And to prove my head was not as big as the gargantuan noodle salad bowl, I sopped up the Watermelon juice with a paper towel and placed the bowl on my head, expecting it to roll around loosely, hang down over my chin and dwarf me. I would show that bastard! I had my very best, "fuck you, you're wrong" face on while I did it.
But then the strangest thing happened. The gargantuan noodle salad bowl fit my head real well. Like, really really well, like a hat would. My ex burst into laughter and ran for his camera, hoping to capture and post on the internet as humiliating a pic as the one he took of my post New Year's Immodium AD shit. I was too flummoxed to pay attention. I took the bowl off my head and stared into its dark recesses, enough recesses to hold a Costco-sized bag of cheese poofs. Christ. My head was enormous. I did not previously know that.
That was how I found out I have a really big head. I wouldn't know just how big until a little later, when I went to OTM for boxing headgear and--to the hilarity of the cocksuckers that work there--ended up buying the size that is called "Extra Large." Ahem, MENS Extra Large, that is.
Posted by The Bunny at 5:31 PM