I'm at my parent's house answering a take-home midterm. I finish half, and blow off the rest until later. My sister Cary comes over and we drive over to my Pop's and Granny's where I weasel out of Easter dinner because the Lil Bunnies have a show to play. Cary gives me a ride and ditches out of dinner, too. On the way to the show we break out a bottle of cheap whiskey and serve us up some in-flight cocktails. The only thing I eat all day is a chicken sandwich so the whiskey sits nice and high.

We show up and Scott gives me a copy of our second record "Unabunnie" and we congratulate ourselves on the the FBI's nice timing to arrest the Unabomber when our record comes out. Scott also gives me a copy of the newspaper article on how the Lil Bunnies crashed the Easter Day Parade and a copy of some angry letters to the editor.

It's really hot so Cary and I go to her house so she can lend me shorts and we can play the new record. It sucks as I figured it would, we pound a couple beers and head back for the show. I miss the opening bands as usual ‘cause I'm drinking beers and whiskey mixed with Coca-Cola in the parking lot.

The Bananas play and they're great as usual then I'm back to the parking lot to drink. The Four-Eyes play and I watch most of their set, heckling them with lame heckles and finally I eat their set list. I chew and chew and decide to spit not swallow the list onto Jay's drum set from whence it came.

Towards the end of their set I go with the rest of the bunnies to change into our bunny suits. We decided to play rock star and not play our instruments but to play the record instead. Not even the new record--just the old first one.

I stuff my pants with beers and we take four dozen raw eggs to pelt the audience with onto the stage. We set up chairs and the bunnies just sit there. I fell through my chair so I stood up drinking beers.

One of the Loft rules is no conspicuous drinking, so I'd been pouring my beers into an empty Coca Cola can. Now that I'm on stage I make no pretense of being sly, I open a beer, pour it into the Coke can drink it down and crack open the next beer. I get most of four more beers into me this way on stage.

The crowd knows our little schtick almost as well as we do and as soon as the record starts playing we're pelted with projectiles. Jelly beans I think, but we start whipping the raw eggs into the crowd clearing out the room in seconds except for a few dumb saps who stand against the walls staying out of our main line of suppressive fire.

Ed's girlfriend Vicki maintains a near constant stream of beer on me, and some guy lands his projectile square on my chin cutting it, but not badly. That's right before the stale piss was splashed on us. I yell out hoping someone would be dumb enough to take credit, or unlucky enough to get fingered for the piss grenade so I could punch ‘em. Not that I was angry, more for the principle of the matter. No luck.

We play the same side twice but we chase everyone out and lock the doors half-way through the second spin. We walk outside, supposedly to circle around so we could change back into our street clothes, but not me, no I had a bellyful of Dutch courage so I stand in the parking lot piss soaked and stare at the 70 or so punk rockers and drink some more booze.

Someone yells that it's getting old, that I should do something, but I tell ‘em I ain't holding ‘em at gunpoint and the could fuck off and leave at any time. I had a fresh drink in my hand but no idea how I got it, so I punish the crowd by drinking more booze.

Nick Yahmo heckles and I drop my pink satin bunny pants, shake my testicles at him and tell him to come on over and "suck my nut." Tonya comes up with a 3-D pink bunny cake smears it on me and stuffs it down my pants.

Next thing I remember is sitting in the dumpster drinking Pabst. I don't quit know how the Pabst got into my hand. I think I was drinking some red booze thing out of a Slurpee cup in the parking lot. The lid is closed so I just drink. Every few seconds the lid is raised, but I just ignore everybody and drink.

I have a vague idea that I was in a shower at some point after this, but I don't remember anything until coming around in Hal's car in Vacaville on our way back to Frisco. I don't smell like stale piss and my hair's washed, so I'm right about taking a shower.

Hal wasn't at the show and I don't know how he found me, but now I owe him babysitting money on top of gas money. I check my pants pocket for dough, but at some point I lost $50 or 60 bucks. I think it was in my shorts pocket when I changed into the bunny suit.

I got home and hammered out the rest of my midterm before passing out. I woke up still drunk and went to school to hand in my midterm without reading or remembering what I wrote. I kinda remember running spell check over it after typing it but I don't remember printing it out. I hope I didn't swear.

So I come home from school and rock it on my bed, look out the window to see a construction worker looking at me. Sheesh, I can't even pound my pud without making an ass out of myself. After asking several people to help fill me in on my actions, I learned I went to Dave Downey's house where I passed out on the sidewalk and he put flowers in my hair and between my toes (details by Ed).