Or, as I like to call it, Sunday Crunch.
So the non-BF, Bunny and I all meet up for brunch today. No fizzy gin drinks for me this time – still said some stupid ass shit, though. A few of the nuggets:
Me: I like that song, who is it?
Bunny: I think it’s Dido.
Me: Let me Shazam it.
I come back to the table. “Shazam is smoking crack. It told me it was 2Pac.”
Strange look from the non-BF and Bunny. “What? I’m not making that shit up. Look, it says 2 Pac!”
They started laughing.
Bunny: It’s pronounced “two-pock,” not “two-pack.”
Me: Hell, I’m so white it’s frightening.
We were discussing SAD and Bunny said she totally got it in the summer, from all the sun.
Me: My mom has that but in the winter time. I remember when I was a kid and it was all wintery gloomy like outside, and my mom would stand and look at the window and cry.
The non-BF: Well, think of the kids she had. It could be a sunny day and she would still be depressed!
Bunny: After brunch, let’s go get some more pies.
Me: MORE pies? We had pies last time? Hell, I must have been drunk off my ass, I don’t do pie.
Bunny: We had like five slices each.
Me: Well no fucking wonder my pants weren’t fitting me this week.
Bunny: I was losing weight but then last week happened.
I whack my knee on the table while sitting down. I’m all ow-ow-OW’ing and Bunny asks me if I am okay.
Me: No. It is one of those kind of hurts that takes your breath away. You know, one of those hurts that make you want to throw up.
Bunny: Don’t throw up now. Save that shit for later.
Me: I cannot believe I forgot the pies last weekend. It must have been all the fizzy gin drinks.
The non-BF: I think it’s your crazy pills that make you forget shit.
Bunny: I wish mine would!
Bunny and the non-BF were talking about their visits to Amsterdam years ago:
Bunny: I was sleeping in the same bunk as the Deaf Lesbian From New York.
The non-BF: When I asked for a more private bathroom, the front desk guy told me, “If you don’t like our country, then just leave.”
Me: I was going to get a part-time job at James Avery for Christmas. You know, for the discount.
Bunny: I don’t trust James Avery. I don’t trust those Christians.
Me, laughing: But you’re a Christian.
Bunny: I know, that’s the fun part!