In Which Bunny's Horrible No-Good Day Ends not so Badly After All

Oh, Man, but yesterday sucked.



First, I dreamed that I was living in a one-room rat-infested apartment with The Man and Bossboy, only there were leaky pipes in the walls, so water was spouting forth from several places. Dream Bunny, of course, was expected to handle this. Nice.



Then, I hit the snooze two extra times before I could get up. Twarnt easy. I seriously considered just lying there and trying to disappear. I eventually rousted myself by asking WWADPD? ADP would get his perfect Italian ass out of bed and get it to training and if he ran into any fans, he would smile and sign autographs and not be a dick. That's what he would do. Thus, Bunny must also get up and get through the day.


Then, I puked. This is not terribly uncommon for days when I have to go to the office, but I really prefer not to barf, given the choice.

I decided to wear my Prince of Darkness costume (black pants, black top, and black sweater) except for these:










and a pair of shoes that may or may not be forbidden under our dress code. "Is grey area" as coach said in The Cutting Edge. (I know. Shit movie, but we love it.) These socks made me feel like John Belushi in Animal House, in the scene where he dresses in his cat burglar outfit and white socks to go spy on the girls in the sorority house.



I dried my hair. It came out uncommonly big:



because I always use too much or too little product. Boy do my highlights need a touch-up.



Since I was wearing the Prince of Darkness suit, I decided to go all out and wear the Raccoon eye makeup. Why not announce to the entire world

I AM GRUMPY

without even opening my mouth. Sometimes I do it this way:





That's Bunny Bitchface at an office Holiday Party. Guess who didn't want to be there? Guess who didn't want her photo taken?


So, raccoon. Problem, though, because I ditched all my old eye pencils, including the black one, and the new grey one is too subtle. I want a message that screams:

KEEP AWAY!

and a tasteful grey was not going to cut it. Bummer. I did, however, have a new sapphire eye pencil. Nothing subtle about that. So I drew great big smeary blue circles around my eyes, and then I added some glittery pink eye shadow and a dark pink lip gloss for that bigmouth look, and I put on my earrings that don't match (earrings are not covered in the dress code) and thus attired, all

BACK OFF. DO NOT TOUCH!

..I trudged off to Mordor via the Black Gate, I mean the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge.




Everything is supposed to be magically better now because we have President Hopey-Changey, but I'm still fat and grouchy, and traffic is still crappy, and 17th Street was still partially blocked for the unending renovation of the Old Executive Office Building--now with cinder blocks 18 inches into the center lane in addition to orange and white striped traffic barrels!



But H Street is clear now that new POTUS-HC has moved out of the hotel and into the White House. They finished the renovations at St. John's church, so it was easier pulling over to let out The Man for his short walk to the Department of Bureaus, or whatever I call it. The AFL-CIO building had a giant banner facing the White House that said "Welcome Sasha and Malia!" and all the other union HQ buildings along 16th Street had new "Yay for Unions" banners hanging up.


And so I get to the Teeny Tiny Government Entity and I enter the parking garage and here are my first two thoughts:



1: The seat belt is pinching my boobs. Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch. I can't be the only person with boobs who drives. Can they not design a seat belt for people with boobs? Why? whywhywhy



2: And I parked in my usual spot that I choose because it's never blocked by the valet if I want to leave early, and the Big Banana has gotten there before me and taken the space next to mine and I recognize his car of course and I think: We used to be friends, but now he hates me.



That's right, people, my first work-related thought is an involuntary one about how Banana hates me. Great attitude. Not at all like ADP.


But I get up to the lobby and there's this:

New POTUS photo. That's good. And --Hey!-- my plants didn't die over the long weekend when I forgot to water them. That's good. But I have trouble making coffee and end up with a mouthful of coffee grounds. And then I see one of my many therapists and get a most unwelcome lecture about how I don't eat enough protein.

And stuff happens at work. My last draft was only mostly perfect, not completely perfect. I, naturally, go all Diva all over the place. They hate meeeeeee! They are trying to crush Dirtbunnyeeeeeeee! Bossboy handles this pretty well, because, as eggs go, he is a good one. But Bunny has to finish sulking before she can comply with her marching orders.

So she tries to stop sulking. But she can't. She is too worked up. Too pissed off. Protein, my ass. Grump grump grump. Plus, way too much caffeine today.

Dirtbunny puts in the IPOD ear bugs and starts blasting music of insolence and alienation, and she takes one of her emergency back-up happy pills for those times when she is irrationally worked up and can't clam down by herself and she stomps around in her tiny little office pretending that she is crushing people under her feet, and gradually, she feels a little more powerful and a little more clam and then she thinks,

"If only Banana would love me again"

and that thought sets off another wave of self-hatred. Oh. My. God. I. Am. Such. A. Whore!

But it also shocks me into a get-over-yourself sort of place. Come on Bunny, try a little. And I get over it, and I do what I am asked to do, and I do it well, and I move on.

Ok, then. I am good at my job. I am Pinturicchio. I turn the IPOD to my bagpipes playlist. Bagpipes always make me feel like kicking someone's ass, so I commence to kicking ass by finally, finally, finally, finishing a case in a box that has been NO FUN. OK, then. I am Pinturicchio.

And that, my friends, was a full fucking day, so it was past time to go home, and I went and watched the replay of the Coppa Italia game that the cable ate yesterday, and Daniele De Rossi is growing out his hair and Alberto Aquilani got some playing time for once and Old Man Panooch didn't get to play but Big Swede scored another goal and Inter won but it's not a league game so it isn't bad for Juventus, and I eat some ice cream and clean Kirby's ears and all is well.