I'm popping in before I have The Mom write a regular entry with pictures in a couple days or so to say hi. I added some peeps who are here to pay homage. This is a good thing.

I've spent the summer chillaxin', beating the heat and keeping myself well-groomed. I have decided that Endive is my new God. You should worship Him as well. The Other Bunny worships Escarole...which is a type of Endive. I'm not sure if that's still worship of my God or if she's going to Hell. I shall consult the prophesies.

The Mom and The Man say they are going out of town soon, leaving me with The Fat Man, who I know and love. He gives me things I 'shouldn't eat' because he knows how hard it is being a bachelor. We homies gotta stick together.

Word to my peeps.

I love endive. I just thought I would state that for the record. Endive. Nom nom nom.

Would you like to see my endive?



NOM

That mental midget my parents paired me up with also likes endive.



As long as she stays on her side of the room, and doesn't eat MY endive, we may be fine.

I doubt it though.

I still protest.



Chuck is not amused.

I'm sure you missed me. I can tell by the way you nudge me to get me to update. I think it's sweet. I nudge The Mom for attention as well.

The Mom is alright in my book this week, but let me tell you...The Dad has become The Man. He is on my shit-list.

See, I haven't updated because nothing much was going on. I'm getting my groominz. I'm getting my veggies, my hay, and I got a new belt to chew on. Thanks, Jordan.

However...

However...

The Man brought home another rabbit.

Are you serious? Do I really need this shit? Sure, it's a girl, but did I need a girl? Heck no. I'm a bachelor. I have serious mojo. At the least, I should be able to pick my own girlfriend...if I want one, AND I DON'T.

I am not amused.

I am not amused at all.

I declare war.

Oh, and since you want to see me in all my mojo goodness, here is a new picture.



Oh, and in other news...



Awwwwww yeah.

For some reason, The Mom has linked the profile of The Idiot (2) to my snazzy profile.

Again with the not amused.

Well, I'm off to go shed on their shit in retaliation. Peace.

First things first...let's get this out of the way. The vet sucks.

I know this because The Woman decided it'd be a good idea to take me there. For the record? I weigh more than The Dog. I told you.

Of course, the vet decided I'm fine. That's the diagnosis? I'm fine. I could have stayed home and told you that but nooooo you wanted to be a responsible pet owner. Don't even get me started on calling me a 'pet'.

Secondly, I have a Christmas tree. I've decided I love Christmas. I want Christmas every month if I get a new tree strung with lights I can rip off and chew into bits. Oh, and the garland? Mmmm so tasty.



This is me checking out my tree. Do you see my handsome profile? You like it like that, don'tcha baby...

The Woman says we're leaving the tree up for another month and having Christmas in January. I believe I shall thump angrily if she ever takes it down.

She will fear my wrath or I will eat her pants.

I'd write more, but I'm tired. I think I'm going to chill on the couch and watch tv while munching a bag of the bird's ZuPreem. Have you ever had that? It's good shit. Try it.

The mom explains to me that thanksgiving is for humans. Basically, from what I can tell, thanksgiving is where humans sit in my living room eating food I would never eat. This is not because I'm picky. This is because they are savages.

Give me a nice bowl of radish tops any day rather than crap on a plate with gravy. Gravy? Really?

I did not have the mom take any pictures of me on thanksgiving...but I can tell you it was an experience.

They did not think The Thing was nearly as appealing as I am. As I checked out all these humans, they tried to TOUCH me. Then the dad picked me up so one of them could fondle me. Let me tell you how offended I was.

THIS OFFENDED.

Trust me when I say I would have been more offended could the font get any larger.

I had to groom myself for 20 minutes just to get the taint off me.

However, the mom explains to me that Christmas is the time to Worship Chuck. I thought this was every day, but the difference between every other day and Christmas is that I get presents. Many presents.

Because it is Worship Chuck day, I present you with gift ideas from bunnybytes.com






This pleases me.



So does this, as balsa wood is my favorite. Mmmmmmmm balsa wood.



This makes 'the mom' happy.



Yes. I can tell you're a big spender. That's what I like about you.

Also, I would like this.



Contact the mom for my address. Thank you for your reverence.

I see I have admirers. This appeases me.

Today has been a busy day so far. Those Who Live Here have stated they want to 'steam clean' the floors. I don't know what this is, but it doesn't sound good. In protest, I formulated a rather nasty booby-trap for the evil Machine That Roars which involved a well placed radish. The evil beast went down just as I planned. I had the mom take a picture of me surveying the damage.



As you see, I owned this bitch.

In other news, it took 3 days or so...but I managed to destroy this 'pet bed' the mom bought for me by ripping open a seam. I like it better this way. It exists now as an open threat to the Thing. I will do this to him if he enters my cage to drink out of my water bowl one more time.

My...mom...I hesitate to call her "owner" because let's face facts here...I own her, went out of town this weekend. It was great. I got to bond with Jordan's shoes. I chilled. It was guys only, which is my kinda party (unless I'm lookin for chicks). Anyway, my mom...she came home and plopped this thing in the floor. At first I thought maybe it was a rabbit, but I noted the long tail, short ears, and awful smell and I realized...she got a 'thing'.

Some days I hate her.

Fortunately for me, this thing she got is smaller than I am...so I kicked his ass several times and we're good now. Long as he stops chewing my shit.

Seriously? Stop chewing my shit. I will curbstomp you if you touch my shit.

Oh, and here's a pic of this thing she got...we went to Petco so I could pick out new hay...and she brought the damn thing.



Don't even get me started on the indignity I have to go through just because I want to go to the store. You think seatbelts are bad? The 'mom' puts me in a carrier.

Note that I am unhappy in this situation.



Hate, and lots of it.

What the hell, mom?