Like that thing that was mentioned earlier in this thread: it's like when a kid wipes out, you are overcome with hysterical laughter but then rush to their aid. Except if you tried to help Bunny, she's claw your face off cuz she's feral.
Hello, Sunday night drinkers! - Eat a pickle when you drink a glass of water before you pass out prevents teh hangover; but, the question was getting rid of one . . . hopefully, you've taken care of that by now. But, for future educational purposes, two Goody's and a Coke always works for me. - I thought the theme was "post pictures of hot women;" if we're not going to get story updates about Douchecanoe, we should get more hot women. Weren't we discussing nipples earlier?
You posting shots of big assed white women makes sooooo much more sense now. With that said, daaaayyyyum!(except for the tattoo.and the weird underwear.and she has really old looking hands.i think that's it.)
My desk calendar of daily quotes really nailed it this morning: "Never play cards with a man named Doc. Never eat at a place called Mom's. And never, ever, no matter what else you do in your whole life, never sleep with anyone whose troubles are worse than your own." - Nelson Algren, American writer I'll drink to that.
I really think a lot of you underrate Bunny. It's easy to be a flippant asshole on the net; I do it all the time. It's not so easy to actually articulate the reasons you struggle to cope with daily life. Particularly on the TMMB. There was a shit ton of misogyny on that board, and I can understand that after seeing the same twatwaffle reincarnated 200 times you'd be pretty quick to judge the 201st poster to crack a 'whore' joke. Admittedly, that was maybe not the place to explore your issues, but her posts were almost always interesting. I learned a fair bit about what it's like living with depression etc from her blog, and I sort of just want to give her a hug. I hope she's doing ok now. Savage Henry was just fucking awesome. Incredibly smart, well-reasoned guy with seemingly infinite patience. I miss his posts. I actually had a point when I started writing this post, but I seem to have lost it. On the upside, I just had some of the best sex of my life. On the downside, I then freaked out about possible pregnancy (just pulled out, no birth control, retarded, appalled at my own stupidity, etc etc). On the upside, she's taking the morning after pill tomorrow. On the downside, I feel like a total dick because she's going to have to suffer all the consequences. Sex is awesome but it carries a terrible curse. But it comes with a free frogurt. The frogurt is also cursed. But you get your choice of topping. And on that incoherent note, I'm going to finish this scotch and sleep. Night TiB.
Bunny was ...um.... Interesting. As a (self admitted, other opinions may differ) well adjusted, confident, and independent female, a lot of her posts made me want cry. I know she was trying to wave the I am woman, hear me roar flag, but lots of times she wasn't the one I wanted representing us. Your actions can speak a lot louder than your words. When your actions (granted I can't really claim to know anybody on the Internet) belie everything you say, they tend to lose some of their impact. I ate at a place called Mama's on Friday. It was yum, maybe not the same thing
The only post I ever remember enjoying from TheBunny was when she dropped what I call, the thread busters, which is the post that has the best thought out rationalized argument that covers all facets of the argument at hand and basically can't be topped, debate over, she won. In this case it was Eddie Murphy and his output of shit for the past decade and a half. SLF, of coarse was claiming that Eddie Murphy makes 20 mill on Shrek movies and was lauded for Dream Girls that he still was the same comedic talent he was in the 80's. She put it all out there and said that for a man that built his career on stellar crass, edgy, adult humor, the fact that he does well voicing kids and has done one film of note doesn't mean his creative abilities haven't dropped drastically otherwise. Im not laying it out as well as she did but if I ever got into that argument again I'd cite that post and be done with it.
Here's an old post Savage Henry wrote regarding Internet Dating (spoiler for length): Spoiler I've been on two internet dates. One ended with me getting hot tea poured deliberately into my lap, and the other one was a fucking disaster. Several years ago, I went through a period of pretty low self esteem. I had just gotten out of the military and had a five year long relationship end on bad terms. I was adrift in life, and women could smell it on me. It was like I had a phantasmal neon sign above my head that read "Mid twenties male. Brash, annoying, desperate, clingy." There was no love out there for your faithful scribe. I did what every idiot does at that point, which was to convince myself that if I could just get the right girl, everything would look up. The ladies were not so enthusiastic about my cart before the horseness. I turned to eHarmony to remedy this unfortunate situation. After the month long vetting process, I finally arranged a date. The girl was a Mary Kay salesperson (make up ladies are hot, right?) and seemed to be about where I was in life. I drove over to her apartment to take her to dinner, visions of meeting my future wife playing in my head. I just knew that this would be The One - we were going to become a team and pull each other out of our collective funks, building each other's self esteem. Together, we were going to conquer the world. I pulled up outside her building (she didn't give me her actual apartment number for PERSEC reasons) in the rain and called her. After she said she was coming out, I began watching for her. I am a gentleman and always open the door for a lady, but I wanted to stay in my warm dry truck as long as possible. After several false alarms, I heard a knock on my passenger side door. My finely tuned jungle sense had somehow missed the future love of my life walking across the parking lot. I sprung into action, much chagrined. Had I messed up her first impression already? I hopped out, and went around to the passenger side door. The creature I beheld was nothing like the one that had danced in my mind on the trip over. There were no long, lean thighs. There was no feminine jawline, no perfect (but tastefully concealed) busom pushing through a sheer (but tasteful, you see?) blouse. Absent were soulful (but glinting with subtle mischief!) eyes. I was looking at a human tub of shit. This poor girl had let herself go to the point of repulsiveness. She had two and a half chins, a pannus that hung to her knock-knees, and tiny, beady eyes that were permanently squinting due to the oppressive weight of facial fat. Dear Reader, I believe I actually took several steps back. "Hi, Savage Henry! I'm so excited to meet you. Where are we going to eat?" My mind raced. I had reservations at a five star restaurant. I was prepared to invest three or four hundred dollars on dinner with the vision in my head. There is no sense skimping on the woman who was to be my salvation, I had reasoned. But this? Hell no. "I figured we could head over to The Macaroni Grill. They have pretty good food, I guess." Quick thinking, right? Smooth, too. Not smooth or quick enough to back out of this date, though. I was bullied into opening the truck door by social convention, and my inability to be a total asshole to an obese girl. Have you ever seen films of the paratroopers getting on planes prior to jumping into Normandy? Burdened by a hundred pounds of gear and parachute, those brave men struggled up the ladders into DC-3s, teetering on the threshold until they got a helpful shove from the man behind them. Watching this woman get into my truck was quite similar. She huffed and puffed, quivered and jiggled, and finally slopped herself into the passenger's seat. My huge Dodge truck with a 3/4 ton suspension groaned. When I got back on my side, I swear my truck had a ten degree list to starboard. Walking in to the restaurant with her, I was as embarrassed as I have been since a very unfortunate incident in fourth grade. The men cast pitying looks at me, and the women were not much better. The servers looked at her greedily, knowing there was economic opportunity in a woman who obviously ate so much. Dinner conversation was uncomfortable, until I struck upon an idea. I asked about her past relationships. If I wasn't going to get to know the future Mrs. Savage Henry, I could at least do anthropological research into the kind of man who sought a woman such as this. She was emboldened by my seeming interest in her. "Oh, I don't date a lot. I was seeing this guy for awhile, but he cheated on me and gave me an STD." "Oh..An STD?...So...uh...what did you get?" Like she had won a raffle or grab bag or something. "I have genital warts. Don't worry, though - I get them frozen off and you won't catch anything. We can still have sex." "...." "I hope we do have sex later. I'm having a really good time with you. I promise it will be great." The last part was said with what I assume was a conspiratorial wink, but it looked like some adipose triggered facial tic. "Okay." I said. That was the final blow for me. At that point in my life, I might have sunk so low as to use this poor creature for sex, but the thought of warts on my unit put the kibosh on that. We sped through dinner, her surely thinking I was excited by the promise of wading through folds of Limburger scented chub in search of her diseased lady parts, and me wishing for an ejection seat instead of a booth. When we pulled up in front of her apartment building after dinner, I made the usual excuses about being tired and having to work early in the morning. "You'll call me, right?" I envisioned her very own phantasmal neon sign spinning over her head. It read "Female, mid-twenties. Fat, boring, desperate, and a PERMANENT FUCKING STD." I went home, deleted her number, and drank half a bottle of Jack.
My biggest memory was that no matter how you feel about your relationships, no matter how happy and supportive/supported you are, no matter how each person exists as equal partners, she would claim that everybody in a relationship was co-dependent. Which I guess if you look at the nature of relationships if and of themselves, you can make a claim that they are co-dependent. But maybe not in the way that she seemed to mean. There is a certain amount of freedom in opening yourself up and admitting that you are ok sharing your life with another (and vice versa). But what do I know, apparently I am co-dependent
This, for sure. The way she wrote it, then deleted, then backpeddled on it while still admitting it was all true was kind of scary. She also legitimately thought she was psychic, which as far as I know has yet to be proven anything but false. I'm excited for her book though. Apparently it's a lock for the NYT bestseller list. BTW, here's the text, spoilered for length: Spoiler Humiliating Last night Tucker blew me off. Again. I went insane. I cut off all my hair with kitchen scissors like Frida Khalo. Today I examined the fallout (actually quite cute and flippy. I am good at everything). I also thought, "Bunny... there is something terribly awry. Why are you so angry? Why have you become a bitter and horrible person since you met Tucker?" Today, while I'm working, Tucker is hovering over me asking me the same question. I have decided to make an itemized list of reasons why I might want to cut off all my hair like a rape victim. [Note: This is truly humiliating. If anyone were to make a medicine to cure low self-esteem, I'd take it in spades; I'd do the 10k walk for closet self-loathers, and wear the empty wine bottle lapel pin. I wish to God these FACTS were fabricated or embellished, but the awful truth is that they are not. I only hope this helps the other girls who don't like themselves]. What it is like to date Tucker Max. -You will get fried chicken for your birthday. Later that night when you both go to a bar, you will want a diet coke, but won't get one because that is one less beer that he can drink. -He will hang up on your favorite aunt, and be stunned when you get upset that he referred to your mother as "that fucking bitch" because she called you at a late hour. -He will scream at you because you don't like the instant coffee he bought you. -He will never kiss you, and barely fuck you, even if you beg him to for months. You are now the Virgin Mary. He will still try to coerce crazy whores into coming to Chicago to fuck him. He will kiss them because they are whores, and don't you know that you're only supposed to give good passionate sex to women that you don't know or give a shit about? I didn't know that either. -You will beg him to take a shower, which he will not do. But he will shave his face to have long make-out sessions with any random girl. -You will read every piece of writing he has ever done and be supportive of all his creative outlets. When you then ask him to read your own novel he will drop it after chapter one because it's a waste of his time. He's not good at editing. -You will give him the greatest head of his life on a regular basis. He will still suck in bed. -He will make sure you know that you aren't very hot, only sort of cute, and that your head is too big for the rest of your body. You also have unattractive dark circles under your eyes and your tits are too small. He will never compliment you. -You will be bi-sexual and okay with him sleeping with other women, but this will not be enough. He needs freedom. -If he is an insensitive asshole to you, it is only because you are selfish. You should understand that his parents sucked and now you have to pay for this. How this is logical, I'm not really sure. -When he has major surgery you will not leave his side. You will spend day night waiting on him hand and foot, making sure he is comfortable and well cared for. You will even wipe his ass when he takes a shit. Later he will tell you that it was all unnecessary. He didn't need or want you to be there. -When he is supposed to pick you up and take you to a party, he will get black-out drunk and fuck some girl instead of showing up. -He will tell you he loves you and wants to have children with you. When you then get pregnant, he will say that he has about two to four more years of drinking and whoring left to do, so a baby isn't in the cards. He will coerce you into an abortion by threatening to give away your dog if you try to have the child. Then he will be evasive so that you will be forced to dump him and he can get off scot-free. -When you get upset about this, he will tell you that you are over-emotional. When you try to explain how this hurts, he will ignore you till you find yourself screaming and breaking things. He will explain these outbursts to his drinking buddies as so: "Yeah she's fucking crazy. She flips out on me like every third day." -When you go to stay with your parents (read: bawl day and night) for two weeks, he will fuck other women in your bed. The night you return he will try to go out with a whore he's just met and wonder why you're upset about that. He needs his freedom. -When you are at your parents, he won't take your calls. Instead he will spend his time e-mailing some whore. Later, he will not stop e-mailing this same whore, because all whores come before your feelings even if the whores are half as attractive and barely capable of forming cogent sentences. -When his ex-girlfriend dies and then comes back to life, you will nurse him through the depression. You will even be fine with her coming to stay at your own fucking apartment so that he can decide which of you he wants. This is so that you can be fair to both of them because you are a good person. unlike them. -Later on you will catch him telling this covert bitch who pretended to be nice to you that he is only keeping you around because you are willing to support him financially. They will laugh at you behind your back for being "over-emotional." Oh how silly you are! -When Tucker bounces back from his depression you will not be needed anymore. You will just hand over the keys to his car and not say a word when he drives it all over Chicagoland while black-out drunk. -When girls come to the apartment, he will become "Cooooool Tucker Max." He will dress and act differently. He will be an asshole to you. Why are you upset? Don't you know "this is the Tucker Max show?" This pathetic statement is his actual quote. -And finally (though I could write pages and pages of this horrible shit): When you've been stood up by the very first date you've planned in a year, you will call Tucker and ask to hang out with him. He will not come pick you up in YOUR OWN FUCKING CAR, because HE lost your license the night before and you won't be able to get into the club he's going to. When you ask if it 's possible to go anywhere else he will refuse because there are free drinks and whores in said club. Whores are very special. Much more special than the woman that did all the above things out of unconditional love FOR A FUCKING YEAR!
As much as I love this place, every so often I do miss the complete unabashed and unhinged crazy that some of the board members poured out. It did get tiresome after a while, but every so often those rants were comedy gold. Though the scary thing was, I didn't think TheBunny was *that* crazy back then. Either I missed a lot of the mental posts or (more likely) I was a hell of a lot more naive and forgiving to crazy back in those days. Actually now that I've thought about it, I do like that I don't have to put up with a fraction of mentally unbalanced posts. In other news, work was horrible so I'm in desperate need for a decent drink.
. Regarding Bunny (sounds like a suitable Oxygen Channel Drama), to quote the late, great Douglas Adams: "Mostly Harmless." Granted, he was talking about the Earth and Humans in general, but I think it's appropriate. To quote myself: "Batshit Crazy." Yes, it's legalese, in the common vernacular, it means "Batshit Crazy."
There were much, much crazier females than Bunny. A penny for your thoughts? Or... rather... $1.25 for your thoughts?