Today is the day that Blue becomes a part of our family. Legally.
We were “his” by the second day we had him. I really mean that. We melted. He is also one of the smartest and best behaved dogs I have ever had. For a hound.
Any of you that have had a hound will know what I mean by that. They can be a bit hard to train if there is any sort of distraction, and this little guy is always on the lookout for distraction. It’s not their fault, it’s in their genes, and as frustrated and mad as I get, I have to keep telling myself that he’s just a dog, and doesn’t know any better.
A week ago, I was chasing him through a thicket of thorn bushes because he slipped his harness, and when I finally caught him (he was chasing an imaginary rabbit around the trees), he looked at me like I was really killing his buzz. I ended up completely winded, with poison ivy, and several cuts on my legs. I had to carry him back to where his harness was hanging in the tree that he had jumped, and untangle the lead I was using.
I'm mostly okay now. It's the emotional scars that hurt now.
No more long leads in the bush. That’s rule #1. Read More
Due to Mrs. Birdman being away for this Therapy Thursday, I have had to bring Smarty Pantaloons in as me, and I’m going to be the voice of reason. For those of you that are unaware of him, he is a well meaning fellow that makes bad choices in his life. You know it’s bad when I’m the straight man. This means that there will probably be more drug use and foul language than in other posts. I’m sorry, but you know how I don’t like to censor people for swearing.
Dear Birdman: I have a co-worker, we’ll call her Sunshine. She’s sweet as can be. But she’s dumber than shit. Seriously – compared to this bright one, some dogs out there are fucking Rhodes Scholars. You can tell her 50 times “don’t cross this line or you’ll die,” and she’ll forget what she’s supposed to do (or not do, in this case).
How can I keep from punching her in the goddamn throat out of frustration?
Seriously, this is a post of holy shits. Not Pope Turds: the snack with the power to heal, but things that make me say “Holy Shit”. Speaking of the Pope, I haven’t heard much about bad Catholicism lately. That in itself is more of a “Hmmmmm, odd” rather than a “Holy Shit”, but I’m getting of topic again.
Holy shit that is some crazy dancing. I thought for sure it was edited to look that way, but he’s got other videos out there too. I think he really commands his body to act all cybertronic* and shit. I am going to start practicing that fluid movement stuff that he does, because I think this will be huge at the Legion dances.
*I have no idea if this is even a word.*
Speaking of Legion dances. Holy Shit! We went to our friend’s birthday party/dance/fundraiser, and it was awesome. There was a male stripper, a photo booth, and everything. I am glad I wasn’t really drinking, as I was still a little hung from the stag on Friday night, and the subsequent lack of sleep. I had so much fun with only a few beer in me, that I couldn’t imagine the funness of it all with say a dozen. That thought is just ludicrous to me.
My dear sweet baby was manning the photo booth, and taking fun shots for donations to lupus. If you want to see the photos of some crazy ass 80′s costumes, and all kinds of other batshittery Click Here. If you’d rather see a weird blob animal puke a semen-like substance at some idiots, Click Here. I suggest you look at both, and here’s a preview of the photos, to try and sway you to them.
This is the one where Crockett is hooked on meth, and Tubbs tries an intervention.
After shooting Tubbs in the face, Lt. Castillo assigns Crockett (still tweaking) a new partner... The Karate Kid.
Okay, for another, and maybe last Holy Shit…Single parenting. God damn, I salute every single mom or dad that does this every day. I have realized that my time management skills are quite poor, and my last nerve is getting thicker and thicker. Seriously, how do you do it? The getting them going in the morning, breakfast, fight with them over their lunches, dishes, semi-cleaning, dog walking, shopping, picking up and dropping off for school, and I’m only touching on it. This shit is crazy, and I really admire anyone who can do all of this, especially with a job and a social life.
I’m sorry for the lack of posts, and lack of real content in them, but It’s been hectic, trying to keep up with reading blogs, and sharing them on G+, along with playing Words With Friends (Which is ending after these games are done.), and my regular day to day shit. I have several in my head, but at 10 wpm, it takes a while to hash them out and type them up. I am going to learn very soon, so bear with me.
I want to write about my bachelor party on the weekend as well, but someone erased the photos and had to go and recover them, so when I get the pics, I’ll put up a post about that. It won’t be a regular photo post, because no one was really aware of the creepy French dude with the camera, but I’ll try to throw a few captions on them when I get a hold of them.
I got a great reception from the few people that read my guest post on Semi-Charmed Life. Thank you for all who did, and for all that browsed around Grace’s blog to enjoy her stories and thoughts. For those that didn’t, you can start HERE, or go and fuck your hats. Or your hands. Whatever feels comfortable for you really, as long as you go read it immediately after you’re done. Make sure you wash your hands too.
Okay, I have to go. This dog isn’t going to toss his own salad.
My mistake. It turns out he was planning on just that same thing. Great minds think alike.
Bow wow wow, yippee yo yippee yay, bow wow yippee yo yippee yay,
So I will be probably more sporadic for a few days. I don’t know if you are aware, but this is way harder than it looks. Mrs. Birdman is having a great time though, so it is worth every minute of it. Who am I kidding? I like having a role to play.
Speaking of roles, I also have one as a guest blogger, so if you want to read my story of woe and misery, you should click this
Wow. A lot of shit happened since Friday. I wish I could remember it all, but with the booze and the lack of sleep, I am missing parts of it. Luckily they are the parts where I was checking Swiper’s dog to see if he was neutered, banging the Russian hooker (mop) in the corner, and eating three (eleven) cheeseburgers before puking in the bushes (Shifter’s hair). My real bachelor party was on Friday night, and it was great (post coming soon). My father and brother Larry came out for a bit, which was really cool. I like hanging out with Dad, especially when it’s just a guy environment. He’s really funny, especially when there is no restrictions on language, volume, or class. My other brother Larry was home with his very pregnant wife, so we’ll cut him some slack for not being there. Today is the due date, so let’s all keep our fingers crossed, because it kind of sounded like she didn’t want to be pregnant anymore.
In other sadexciting news, I am switching morning shows on the radio.
It’s true. I have found another morning show, with almost all of the same people as my (up until Friday) favourite show. It’s true that the host’s voice isn’t as deep, but this guy’s pretty funny too, and the rest of the crew is still the same. Megan, Joe, and IngaRhonda will still be cracking wise, but they’ll be doing it with Joel Scott, instead of that other fellow, who will remain nameless because it hurts me too much to see it in type. I’ll still be able to hear that golden, lulling baritone on the commercials, so at least it won’t be a total loss for me.
It turns out that Star 93.3 is in the same building as 107.9 The Breeze, so they in fact, can utilize many of the same crew, at a fraction of the cost of two entirely separate groups of layaboutsprofessionals. This works in my favour now, because even though I am going to miss hearing “Rag Mama Rag”, “Tokyo”, and “Blinded By The Light” every morning, I will be able to make the shift to Nicki Minaj, Carly Rae Jepsen, and Flo Rida relatively painlessly. It also doesn’t hurt to have two preteen girls, with ipod docks, around you for several hours of the day. It used to, I can’t lie, but you kind of just start accepting the fact that you will be listening to the same song several times a day.
As for Joel Scott, he isn’t so fickle as some other radio hosts, and doesn’t string me along, only to crush me with yet another Facebook unfriending. I’ve always loved him as I love no other man, which is softly, and with a childlike vigour that is reminiscent of when I first realized that you could cut shotgun shells open and make dangerous, yet sometimes functional homemade bombs. Joel is a personal friend, and a really great guy. He’s also funny like a mofo, so that sure helps in his line of work.
My heart is saddened now, so I’ll have to finish today’s post later on this morning. I’m just too emotionally crippled to think about what I did for Mother’s Day, so I’ll go take some more Xanax with some bourbon, and have a little nap.
Rag mama rag, where do you roam, rag mama rag, bring your skinny little body back home,
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