Whew, I made it, finally. As we were lying in the cocoon, relieved and content, Mrs. Birdman looked at me and asked if I knew how long I had been gone for. I immediately replied with a few guesses. “Five weeks? A month?”
“Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks. We are not cut out for this, baby, let’s not ever do this again.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it.” I replied “I couldn’t handle it.”
That’s not totally true though, because I know that I can handle it, I just don’t want to. You get into a routine, and when you’re working at least twelve hours a day, write a blog, and eat all of your meals, you don’t get a lot of time for missing people. Unless you’re a truck driver. Then you have all fucking day to think of this shit. While you are waiting to get loaded, while you are waiting to dump, coffee breaks, lunch, and all times in between, you just sit and think. Generally this is a good thing, except when you aren’t happy. When you’re not happy, you start to have doubts.
Will I even get a job when I get home? What will I do if I don’t get one? How much will a guy pay for a blowjob from a 40 year old blowjob virgin? Hmmmm, I bet it’s a lot. Hey, if someone offered me $50000, I’d probably do it. I mean really, how bad can it be? Women and men do it all the time, and other than the smell of their breath, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of repercussion. I’d do one a year, and maybe more if we needed something like a nice trip or a cabin or whatever. I’d probably be pretty good at it too. Man, the possibilities are endless really. I would have all kinds of time to write, and I could make some extra cash as a field reporter for a gay men’s magazine. I’d maybe go to different countries, because I can’t imagine there would be too many rich gay men that are going to splurge on that kind of service in this area. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t be a blowjob virgin after the first time, so who’s going to keep paying that amount? This is bullshit, the price just went up to $75000.
I guess I had better get working on a real job. We are leaving soon on vacation, but maybe I can get the ball rolling now. I have to do up a resume that doesn’t look like I want a driving job though. It may be hard, seeing as that’s all that’s on it for the last twelve years, and before that was a bunch of jobs that I don’t want to do again. I suppose I could write a creative cover letter outlining what I’m looking for, and what I think I’d be good at. I mean really, there must be someone looking for a sarcastic smartass somewhere within twenty miles of here, right? I was thinking of getting into sales, but I imagine you need some sort of formal training to get anything more than a job selling stereos at Futureshop or the like. It’s not that it would be a bad job, I have no clue, it’s just that there aren’t any stereo shops near here. I guess I could open one up; there seems to be a few empty shops downtown, and who doesn’t like stereos? This ipod thing is just a fad anyways, people will be going back to the big tower systems of the 90’s soon enough. I can’t wait to start selling those 200 disc changers to young male adults on a payment plan from Avco or something. Ah the good life awaits.
So like I said, I’m home now, and the girls got here today, so that was good. There was some frenzied hugging for a few minutes, and O took a header while running towards me, but it settled down pretty quick. I have had a few makeout sessions with their mother though, so that’s pretty cool. She’s pretty good at it, but I’m no slouch either, and while I may have a bit of a dripping saliva problem, as long as I’m on the bottom, it’s only my hair that gets wet. Rumour has it that there may be a shenanigan shower in my future as well, so it looks like everything is coming up Milhouse for the Birdman. Maybe that should just be “coming up Birdman”, but I’m not too sure. I didn’t want to steal the credit from The Simpsons, because that would be rude, and how many of you wouldn’t have already known that saying?
Gadget stopped by to tell me about the banana hammock he’s going to be wearing when we head south. I have to admit that I’m a little bit scared, because he and Stan are getting fancy store bought ones, and I am going to make mine out of a pair of flannel boxers, and wear my lovely velour shirt. I’m afraid I’ll have to get Princess Beaner to sugar my bits though (She’s the reason I’ve had a sweet tooth lately), or else the ladies on the beach will be braiding my ass hair, and I can’t afford that shit; I need to save my cash to do some deep sea fishing and get some bottles of mamajuana. I guess we’ll see what kind of trouble us boys can get into while Mrs. B, Princess Beaner and Penny get their tans on, or whatever it is that ladies do when they’re hammered up on rum and fruit juice, or whatever it is that girls drink in a tropical setting.
On my last note of this ever changing blog post, I’d like to ask you to sponsor my friend Brad for his CN Tower Climb in support of the WWF. No, not the World Wrestling Federation, they had to change their name to WWE, and I don’t think it’s even a thing anymore. It’s for the World Wildlife Fund, and he’s doing it because his daughter didn’t want a birthday present, she wanted her dad to do the stair walk for charity. Please give a couple of bucks if you can, or share the link around to your friends if you can’t. The link will be in big letters after this sentence.
There, I’ve rambled my way through another day, now It’s shower time with my lady.
Low down leaving sun, I’ve done did everything that needs done,