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Drock Goes Both Ways; BunnySis Shits Pants - August 16, 2005

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Isn't it funny how Kharma can bitchslap you back into reality, even if the intent of your ego trip isn't wholly serious? This just happened to BunnySis.
 
We went out on Wednesday night. Drock (Vinyard's new name) and my old roommate Brnagle, were meeting at my very favorite bar for drinks. If you don't know which bar this is, it's called 'Goldstar,' it's on Division, and it is all that and a bag of jerky. You should go there, and when you do I suggest bringing hot slutty lesbians who like bunnies in tow. They won't be sorry. (Also, I like junk. Leave the skinnies at home).
 
There was excellent music, and excellent conversation, two things which lead to overconsumption of alcohol. And being that a bottle of Bud is always a mere dollar in price at Goldstar, yes folks, best bar in town, we had far too many of them.

The bar closed, and Brnagel said goodnight. Drock, BunnySis and I decided to say hello to a 4am bar. Well, Drock and BunnySis did. I went home to walk my snouts like a good mommy. On the way to our cab, BunnySis was randomly approached by a cute guy with frosted hair. He was asking her out when I ran up and shouted into his frost, shouted something super classy like "SHE'S HOT! LOOK AT THOSE TITS!"  Drock threw me into a cab so I wouldn't cock block, which I think would have been more of a shock block, like "Your sister bears an amazing resemblance to Corky from 'Life Goes on' so I think I'll go home now."
 
The next morning, I woke on my "couch" to laughter. Drock and BunnySis were in my bed, fully clothed (its not that kind of story, kids) and laughing about what had happened at the 4am bar they went to while I walked my dogs. Apparently, a flamingly gay man and his pseudo-straight friend (complete with diamond encrusted wedding band twisted into homo swirls of platinum) were drinking there, and they struck up a conversation with BunnySis that went as such:
 
"Sweetie, LOVE the top."
"Thank you."
"And the hair? Redken shades, highlights with single process gloss color over them."
"Oh my god! Yes, how did you know?"
"I'm a stylist."
"Perfect! I just moved here. I'm looking for a new one."
"I'm expensive, but you're hot, so I'll give you twenty percent off."
"I LOVE you."
"No. I LOVE you."
 
Now, it's important to mention that this is the time of night that Drock cannot be expected to take responsibility for his actions. He has a very bad liver due to a quacky doctor prescribing hepatoxic medicine and not mentioning he shouldn't drink on it. He drinks anyway, because he is Drock, finds self-destruction sexy, and does whatever he wants whether his liver likes it or not. Sadly, a liver is not a human being. You can boss it around as much as you like, but ultimately, it will shut you down if it doesn't like what you're doing to it. There is no way to outsmart the liver.
 
So the slow release liver bomb was about to go off in Drock's gut. He was handed a Tequila Sunrise by his new gay friends, and he decided to drink it anyway. I guess he wanted to go down in style. While sipping the Tequila Sunrise, he mentioned that he was having back problems, and that his back currently hurt. Gay Stylist offered him some Xanax for the pain, which he took.
 
Now. We readers know that Xanax is an anti-anxiety drug, not a pain killer, but Drock did not have experience with the drug. If he had, he would have known what the rest of us know, that Xanax are "Fuck-it" pills, because the roof could be falling, and so long as you have Xanax, you say, "ah, fuck it." But our gay friend here is using them for a different reason. To him, they are "fuck-him" pills.
 
BunnySis engaged pseudo-straight guy in conversation about female fertility. Apparently pseudo-straight guy is having problems impregenating his wife, and him being at a gay bar with a gay friend at 4am on a Wednesday could be a contributing factor to this. BunnySis tried to lightly suggest that he might be gay, but was getting nowhere. After an hour of this she turned around to find a heavily drugged Drock receiving a back rub from the flamer.
 
I can imagine some major emergencies, car bombs, shrapnel, Anthrax in the water; all of them come close to the sensation of turning around on one's bar stool and seeing a drugged Drock getting a back massage from a flaming homosexual who is trying to put his penis where it doesn't belong. Frightening.
 
BunnySis prayed "please, dear god, don't wake up," and collected Drock into a cab.
 
I was retold the story the next morning, as we were driving Drock to the nearest PopEyes for chicken, where he berated the drive-thru attendant for her idiocy inbetween hilarious contrarian statements such as: "No child has ever said anything of interest," and "Italians can't spell." We all got tasty chicken product, and ate it with Drock at his home. It did not settle well in BunnySis' stomach.
 
BunnySis is a private pooper, one of those rare beasts that cannot poop in any bathroom but her own. Though Drock's home is at least fifteen miles south of mine, she refused to poop there. Instead, she chose to drive the distance at full speed, shifting from tiny cheek to tiny cheek and making groan noises with her face as pinched as the bitter beer guy. By the time we reached my apartment she was about to blow. About to blow, but still jovial.
 
As we were walking up the stairs to my apartment (I live on the fourth floor), I asked her if she was going to tell her frosted date about her private pooping problem.
 
"No!"
"You want me to?"
"No!!!!"
"You're so hot you get asked out on street corners by random frosted guys."
"I know! Right?"
"You're hot."
"I'M HOT."
 
And as she said the words "I'm hot," though she meant them in a very tongue-in-cheek kind of way, she tripped on a stair and fell face first, shoes flying off, purse upended and emptied. She began to laugh, and that was when it happened. A big wet fart escaped her tiny ass cheeks. I heard, "pffffffffft."
 
She looked up at me and said, eyes wide and paranoid, "I just shit my pants."
 
You're so hot, BunnySis. So hot.

Posted by The Bunny at 9:29 PM

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Comments

OH...MY...GOD...I just had the best laugh I've had in ages, thank you, Bunny.

-Megan

Posted by: Megan at August 19, 2005 12:28 PM

Your stories keep my boring job intresting... and i thank god that other ppl have phobias of random washrooms...

Posted by: Dani Gurl at August 19, 2005 04:22 PM

haha. go great. lets hang out!

Posted by: melissa at August 24, 2005 09:56 AM

Oh that hilarious bunnysis! Will her humorous predicaments ever find an end?

I guess that's the price you pay for a phobia/habit you can or cannot control.

I can only imagine the expression she made though, priceless.

Posted by: Lars [TypeKey Profile Page] at September 9, 2005 11:46 AM

Its stories like this and some of tuckers that make the slow days at work go by so much quicker. i dont know what i would do without your site

Posted by: Chris at December 16, 2008 09:48 AM

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