The Night I Saw the Bunny

After spending a few hours blowing time on YouTube or Wikipedia or any other number of sites that people blow time on, I like to take a shower. It makes me feel filthy. It makes me feel uncomfortably close to the losers who spend their time carousing porn sites and looking for videos of skateboarders falling off stair sets. In fact, I usually brush my teeth too. Or shave, or trim my hair. I feel that dirty.

After watching Benny Lava or Splinter for a few uncounted repeats, I'll look at the time and notice that a few hours went by. I wonder what happened to my life. It just feels like time for a shower, just so I can get reset. Even after I act like a real pointer and watch Barack Obama's keynote address at the 2004 Democratic National Convention, I don't feel any better than the jerks who die of malnutrition because they've been playing Warcraft for six consecutive days. It's sick.

If, lying on my death bed, I could have back the hours I lost watching "Dan Marino Freak Out," I'd have enough juice to run a half marathon and raise a family. For all the hours I've saved on research and writing for school assignments, the Internet sucks away more time than it saves. Let's not even talk about my dignity, which is in tatters. If David Koresh came along today, the Branch Davidians wouldn't have taken off and Waco wouldn't have ever happened. Why get off my ass to travel to the cult meeting when I can just join their email list? Sure that's positive, but look at my company. I'm not sure who's worse: cult leaders or cult followers. If you can't wrap your mind around that, try this: off-season, asswipe jocks who play Madden all day long or the off-season, asswipe jockstraps who watch them.

I thought this to myself as I walked home from Jerome Stafford's house at 1:30 in the morning. My train of thought was interrupted by a black and white rabbit resting on the side of the road. It was a pet bunny, not something you see resting on the side of the road. It wasn't going to burrow or run. It just looked at me for about 40 seconds. That bunny made me feel like the college dropout who frequents local high school parties to hit on sophomores.

I walked away. Then I realized that the bunny and the Internet made me feel the same way.