Adventures of Bunny

Keep It Classy

As you all know I can be a little crazy sometimes. I’m a special type of Bunny. But all of you my beloved readers know this. Thank you for loving my crazy! This post will be a continuation of my craziness with newbie Mr. Mistaken Identity. (Please refer to Axe Me for how I met him)

From now on I’ll call him, Mike.

It’s Friday evening the week has been hell as usual. I’ve kept in touch with Mike all week. We haven’t really had the opportunity to plan anything. He rings me and asks if I have any plans for the weekend. I tell him not currently. He then asks me if I’d like to go to Jazz Festival with him.

Inner Monologue Moment: Ummm, Jazz Fest is next weekend. So is he asking me out a week in advance? If so he’s a planner like me! Yay! But I was kinda hoping for a date a little sooner.

I tell him, I’m up for meeting for Jazz Fest. But in all honesty I was hoping to meet up sooner. Jazz Fest is next weekend. He then informs me that he lives across from the park. And there are signs up saying it’s this weekend. Of course, my type A controlling personality doesn’t allow me to be wrong. I’m always right.

I put him on speaker. I tell Mike to hold while I google Jazzfest. So I can be right, and the world will continue to spin again.

I google, it pulls up… Son of Bitch.

Mike is right. It is this weekend. Well I’m not admitting anything. I tell Mike I’ll meet him at 7.

Fast forward to Saturday, I’m an hour late. I’m honking my horn at so many idiotic drivers I’ve lost count. No one knows how to FUCKING DRIVE!!! Or park either apparently. Is double parking a new trend or something? I can’t find any street parking! Mike calls me, asks if I’m lost.

Inner Monologue Moment: Well laugh out fucking loud. I guess he thinks he’s a comedian all of a sudden. It must be nice to already have parking. Since he lives by the park.

He then offers parking behind his place.

Inner Monologue Moment: What the fuck? You tell me this now!!! It’s been an hour. This would have been helpful 59 minutes ago. Uuugggghhhhh.

I park behind his place, we greet, I take a breather. He ordered food! Hooray! We are going to walk to pick it up. Then I tell him I’ve decided I’m not going to talk about myself. I want to hear all about him. After I say this I realize Mike’s not much of a talker. Hence why I dominate most of our conversations. He’s not a wallflower. He does speak. But Mike needs a question or statement to get him going.

We are walking back. I’ve got the wine for safe keeping, and he has the food. As we are crossing in a crosswalk a car runs through a stop sign. He grabs me to pull me back. But I’m already in full on Bitch Bunny mode. You can’t reign her back in when she comes out.

I’m screaming at that fucking car, “STOP SIGNS ARE MEANT FOR STOPPING FUCKER! IT’S BRIGHT FUCKING RED. I COULD HAVE DROPPED MY WINE!!” I’m bouncing up and down, swinging my purse around.

I turn around, Mike is standing frozen in stunned silence. He asks me, “Do you want me to hold the wine?” I tell him NO it’s safe with me I’ve got this. He replies, I feel safer already. But out of curiosity if you had dropped the wine what would have happened? I get very, very close to him and whisper in his ear, “You’re not ready for wine dropping yet.” He turns bright red, and says onward to the park then.

We make it to the park. But because I’m high maintenance I make us move two times. I need to be close enough to see, but far enough from people with children. They won’t understand my drinking needs.

He spreads out a little blanket. I plop right down Indian style. I feel like the music has just stopped and entire park went silent. That’s when I heard and felt it. I’m pretty positive I just busted my jeans. I’m feeling pokes of grass on my upper thigh. FUCK MY LIFE. Deer in headlights look on my face. I’m just going with it. There’s nothing I can do at this point.

Where is the WINE!!!!

Mike asks if I want food or wine first.

Inner Monologue Moment: lolololololololololololololololololol

I tell Mike the answer to that question is always wine first. He pours me a large glass and hands it to me. Good job Mike. We are drinking, eating, listening to music under the stars it’s so romantic. But the only light is just that, stars. It’s a little difficult to see now. I laugh at a joke as I’m drinking wine. I apparently have a hole in my mouth. Because I miss mine completely. Red wine is now all over my cream silk blouse. Fuck really? I look to see if he’s paying attention. Thankfully he was watching the band. Crisis averted!

At least until we are in decent lighting….

The evening has ended. Mike is packing up, I’m still on the ground. He asks if I need help getting up. I tell him I’m just looking at the stars they are so beautiful. He looks up and agrees with me. Then offers me his jacket because it’s a little chilly.

Inner Monologue Moment: Thank you! Yes, yes! This will cover my ass and part of my blouse.

We are walking back to his place. I ask to use the restroom before heading home. I need to see the damage. I rush to the bathroom, yelling for instructions to find it as I run away from him. I find the bathroom, slam the door, lean up against it, and breathe the biggest sigh of relief.

I walk to the mirror, I give myself a pep talk. I’m sure it’s not as bad as I think it is. I’m greeted with a Bunny MONSTER: frizzy humidified hair, raccoon eyes from mascara, sweat marks under my arms, it looks like blood spatter is on my blouse, and my jeans are officially dead. He knocks on the door, and offers me a t-shirt.

Inner Monologue Moment: A t-shirt, YES! Wait? How would he know that I need one? I was stealthy. I went with it all like a pro.

I walk out of the bathroom in a knee length Star Wars tshirt, belt, and sandals. Mike then tells me that Star Wars looks good on me. I tell him he’s a smart ass, but thank you. He then asks me if I would be up to going to a pumpkin patch with him tomorrow? And carving pumpkins too.

Inner Monologue Moment: Who is this guy? I’m going with it. He’s too cute to be a serial killer. Wait hold on, there are cute serial killers. Fuck. Oh well. I’ve been in house for a while. I’m still alive. Let’s see how carving pumpkins go. I’ll hold the knife.

Quote: “Help me Obi Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.”

©️southerngabunny

13 thoughts on “Keep It Classy

  1. Alert, alert…. moral dilemma; looks like Bunny has caught a nice guy. How long can she tolerate him! 🙂 My question is does he earn points for being considerate or lose points because he was not out ahead of you on the F you’s to the stop sign runner througher?! And he’s nice enough to not mention the stain but then he allowed you to walk around town with a stain. How does one react to that? Appreciation? Anger? These nice guys can be trouble, beware!

    Liked by 3 people

    1. He actually doesn’t annoy me at all. Which is extremely rare… but it’s still pretty new so give it time. Lol. I asked him this morning if I could tag along with him to the gym. And he asked me if I was going to be craZy if I did… ha ha ha 🤷🏽‍♀️ you never know.

      Like

  2. You had me laughing out loud – really loud! Love the image of the Bunny Monster. Please don’t reject this lovely guy – so much better than the ‘can’t make up my mind which way to swing’ anesthetist. I met a lovely guy in Savannah but I am married and he was too old for you…💋

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Everyone I have told this story to have reacted the same way. Nonstop laughing… at the time I didn’t think it was very funny. But looking back… yea it’s pretty funny. I honestly have no issues with him at all. I even had fun on our pumpkin date. 🎃

      Liked by 1 person

  3. OH MY GOSH 🤣 I AM DYING. You are hilarious. And I just love you. I can’t wait to read more. I love the Bunny who comes through my line, but this one is so much greater!

    No wonder we’re birthday buddies.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply to chattykerry Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s