Wabbit Season

You know what's harder than being a chocoholic at Eastertime?

Being a chocoholic at Eastertime when left-over easter eggs are half-price.

It's like, Universe WANTS me to have dimply arms. And I freely admit to being a skinny bitch, but my goodness eating enough truckloads of chocolate = bloating, self-hatred, and not being able to wear my good jeans anymore.

At my local supermarket, these Gold Beauties have been on sale for WEEKS NOW. Obviously, someone over-ordered. Which is equal parts wonderful and terrible. For I have gone there every single day, to pick up a three-dollar bargain. Complete with the fucking carrots in the giftbox. (For myself, no sharing of course.)

There's only so many empty Lindt Deluxe boxes that will fit in the recycling bin, before it overflows and mummy gets BUSTED, man.

And, I'm like a hunter. A hunter of bunnies. But instead of deer antlers hanging on my wall, I now have about twenty-four of these.




Whenever I brought a new bunny home, it would see its fallen brothers and start whimpering in terror.

I met a lady in the discount aisle, she too was furtively going through all the cheap good chocolate eggs. I went up and grabbed my usual Lindt box, proclaiming, "MAN I wish they would hurry up and sell out of these." She laughed, a little too nervously, telling me how she ate hers for a midnight snack.

I asked if she ate them with fava beans and a nice Chianti, but she didn't get it.