Sunday, April 5, 2009

The Saga of the Bunny Smile

Many years ago I worked as a professional geek for Easter Seals. I had decided working in more "glamorous" tech writer jobs just wasn't for me if all I was doing was putting money in some CEO's pocket and kissing ass, neither of which appealed to me in the least. Thus, I took the tech writer/tech support position at Easter Seals and finally loved my job. Unfortunately, I also proceeded to starve to death.

This was where I met my eventual hubby, Richard. Mike Thomas, my Easter Seals cohort in crime, hired him to wire our network and that's how we met. Never underestimate the power of a magnetic poetry set stuck to a file cabinet when it comes to starting a conversation with a geek.

Over the course of the next several months I realized that my propensity for check writing (for anyone younger than 20, checks are what we used before debit cards) and a decisively smaller paycheck meant I had to do something else besides work for Easter Seals if I was going to keep a large array of bankers happy. Eventually I discovered eBay and my financial situation improved significantly.

Richard and I would get up early on the weekends and drag ourselves to the assorted estate and garage sales we felt were worthy of our time, where we would dig through piles and piles of crap looking for the rare Nippon treasure that would make eBay bidders scream with glee, or something that would make Richard scream with glee (like the cordless Bosch drill he got for $20). On one of these trips, for some unknown reason, I bought the most adorable stuffed bunny adorned in a red velvet dress for something like 25 cents. I really don't know why I bought her, glassware was my thing... Murano, Bohemian, or just about any cut lead crystal with a "name." Certainly *not* stuffed bunnies. But I bought her nonetheless. I listed her. I sold her. Never gave it a second thought.

It just so happened to be that it was Richard's job to pack what I sold. As he was about to place the red velvet bunny into a freshly-assembled USPS Priority Mail box, he held her in his lap, looked at me, and then said, "You know, she has your smile! You know, that cute little smile you do. It's your bunny smile!"

OH YES HE DID ladies!!!! Can you believe anyone could be THAT friggin' heartless???? And yes, I am fully aware my male readers are so not gettin' it and are all simultaneously saying, "Huh? What?"

All of a sudden this bunny was given *phenomenal* significance. You can't sit on the floor all cute and shit and compare my smile to that on an adorable stuffed animal and then shove her in a box and send her off to someone else!!!! That bunny has just become a HUGE part of our relationship! That is now a very important bunny! OUR bunny! She's the symbol of *us*, an icon of our passion, the bunny of LOVE!!! And now I HAD to send her off to some stupid woman who was going to give her to some stupid kid to drool on, and if I didn't I was going to get dreaded NEGATIVE EBAY FEEDBACK! ARRRRRRRRRRRRGH!!!! How can anyone be so friggin' CRUEL?????

Bunny went in the box. I wasn't about to let on with more than a superficial whine that this was now killing me. Devastaing me. I had suddenly become suicidal as MY bunny with MY smile was tucked into a red, white and blue cardboard box with a stupid friggin' eagle on it. And off she went, whisked away to the woman who paid me $4 for the first significant symbol of my sweetie's and my relationship, and her smelly, whiney, drooly kid.

Five minutes passed. Richard forgot all about Bunny. Months passed. I continued to be obsessed with Bunny. You of course understand that I *had* to act.

It started with the occasional tease about how he "Let me send away my bunny after he said she had my smile." Then it quickly escalated to email. I would routinely send Richard messages at work with the eBay photo I had taken of Bunny enlarged to a huge size stuck right in the middle of them, with captions underneath like "You sent away your sweetie's bunny smile!" I'm sorry, it simply had to be done, you just don't do that to a gurl.

When I changed the Windows wallpaper on his 'puter to the pic of Bunny he began to crumble. When I sent him a link to the results of an eBay search for "red velvet bunny" with a desperate plea to "Fiiiiiiind herrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!" it was the clincher.

On Christmas morning, there beneath the tree, sat an unwrapped Priority Mail box. It was the very last I was given to open. I am told he had to search through many, many auctions before he found the bunny with the perfect smile >=o}


10 comments:

Ivelen said...

Wow. That was originally very cruel of him. My Mom has pulled that stuff on me before. Can't stand it.

But in the end, your hubby prevailed, showing his true colours. He got your bunny back!

And, I'm under 20 and I knew what checks were. It's how we pay for school. :)

Susan Maxwell Schmidt said...

Yes, I have Bunny back. After the dogs, she's the first thing we save if there's a fire, LOL!

rschmidt said...

Cruel? My pointing out that my wife and "Bunny" shared the same smile is true and not a cruel statement. The fact that we were obligated to the customer to deliver on her purchase was unfortunate and beyond my control. Have you ever seen Roman Holiday with Audrey Hepburn? Was it cruel of him to express his love for her even though circumstances beyond their control would keep them from ever being together?

Susan Maxwell Schmidt said...

Nice try Sweetie, except Gregory Peck never tells Audrey Hepburn that he loves her and if he had, it would have been *unbearably* cruel! Just think, if he told her he loved her, it would have caused an international incident, an abdication of the throne and all sorts of related trouble. Gregory Peck would never do that because *he* recognized the wisdom in keeping his mouth shut. So there :P

rschmidt said...

Hmmm... I guess I need to dig myself out of this one with my handy "How to pickup chicks." handbook. Okay, this one looks good....

Hey, what about that Bridges over Madison County? When Meryl Streeps tried to get out of the truck and the door handle was stuck, I cried. Those old Ford trucks always do that..What are your feelings? (Introduce alcoholic beverage now).

Susan Maxwell Schmidt said...

Well now, that explains a lot.

Reminds me of my "How to Lull Your Husband Into a False Sense of Security" handbook. Lessee...

Oh sweetie... you are *so* sensitive! The handle wasn't stuck, she just loved her hubby so much that she couldn't leave him for another man, just like I love you and could never leave you either! But of course *I* would NEVER cheat on you like she cheated on her hubby, no matter how devastatingly romantic the "other man" was! (introduce sex act now).

rschmidt said...

flip...flip...flip...

Ah Yes, While my first instinct would be to try and resolve your issue, I am happy enough to simply be here for you, to listen and sympathize. You have every right to feel that way and I support you 100%. Would you care for some Chunky Monkey?

Susan Maxwell Schmidt said...

Ummmmm... how long have you had this handbook and why have you never bothered to read it before now????

rschmidt said...

I've had this book for years. I showed it to you. Remember down in the "Man Cave"? It was sitting on the stack of Playboys next to the little statue of the guy who drops his pants and pees in your glass when you press the red button. Remember? The night the singing fish broke while you were forcing me to watch that stupid program, Tool Academy.

Susan Maxwell Schmidt said...

WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY HUSBAND????