Herbicide died on Friday. I found him at an odd angle in his cage. He looked like he had gotten caught on the cage door somehow, and snapped his neck in the attempt to free himself. Rabbits have notoriously delicate necks, and inversely proportionately crazy freakouts when they're caught on something.
I uploaded the rest of the pictures I had of him to
his site and changed the top to stop showing how old he is. It strikes me as rather melancholy now, but still, he was a fucking cute rabbit.
I dug him a grave in the backyard that night. Cried my eyes out. I hadn't felt that sort of pain for a long time.
But I'm okay now. It sucks; but that's how it goes. I'm not looking forward to Adrienne's reaction.
Partying my ass off at Dawn's house for St Patrick's day sure helped alot. That was a brilliant party. I must have made at least 40 Irish Carbombs for various people. Whenever I left the carbomb station, I would set three or four there ready-made for whoever came along, and whenever I came back they were gone. Apparently I took 211 pictures. I am so embarrassed about that, I must have been annoying as fuck. I hope most everyone was a drunk as I was so they didn't care. I just finished paring them down and they're almost a hundred web-worthy pics. I'll probably have them posted sometime tomorrow.
Highlights:
- Dancing like a psychotic Leprechaun.
- I scared away this incredible asshole who was hitting on Kim and being a dick to Chris by making him aware of how completely drunk I was and thus ready to totally beat the shit out of him.
- Everyone I came with puked their guts out, except for me and Chris.
Lowlights: