Chocha Pelon: "Don't cry for me Hialeah"

Ok.

1. Death
2. Blood, Broken Glass, Police, and Stupid Gift Games
3. Leases, Deposits, and Other Next-to-Impossible Challenges (for the half-feral)

Not the best week. I didn't drink, I didn't get high, I just slept and worked.

I have no money, I have no clean laundry (because 4. the Washing Machine Broke), I don't really have anything to eat, and I'm tired of being nice. I'm trying to convince the people I work with that I was born without a sense of Guilt. Like I just don't have one. It's a total lie, but in trying to prove it I've been able to be a total dickhead and smile and they're amused when I remind them that I am actually right and that I was born without a sense of guilt. I'm not sure it's a winning game but it's been fun today.

I was also told by the person that I asked if they were in a better mood that I was the one with an attitude problem not them. And that she'd heard it from more than one person that day. I was like, "Oh yeah, right, whatever."

Anyway, Chocha Pelon died last week. She lives on in Spanish vulgarities. Every time you call someone panocha, chocha, maricon, co~no or whatever, she lives.

Also, bunnies have a funny way of dying. Witchery?