Oct 09

I was so busy getting this site together

I forgot to write anything yesterday. It’s not because of laziness, or the fact that I thought having a delicious turkey dinner and a good skeet shooting session (not the same as when the rappers say it) with most of my family, was more important than you. I also don’t want to say that after dinner, going to a great rock show with my baby and friends, where we had drinks and fun, and then peed in the parking lot of…I’d better not say, takes precedence over my need to let you know what’s going on. It doesn’t. I just plain old forgot. I do that sometimes, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.

Remember an earlier post about how I forget all kinds of shit? Well, it’s true all right, true enough that a few days after that post, my boss gave me a blast for not remembering some bills and log sheets I was supposed to hand in. I understand that he has to do it, so I bit my tongue and accepted my punishment, but it’s not going to help at all. I also don’t know why he would wait until the month before I’m done to start getting mad at me? I guess maybe he’s been getting mad at me for a long time, but just finally had enough of my bullshit, and now needed to get it off his chest. He’s actually a really good guy to work for and hang out with. He puts up with a lot of shit from drivers, probably because he knows how pissed off we get with our jobs, and just doesn’t feel the need to get into fights with us every day. He’s also really good about thanking me, and I assume the rest of the guys, whenever I get a job done, and accept the next duty, and that means a lot to a person. I’ve never been a money driven guy, even when I go out west, it’s not for greed. I just want to be able to sleep at night, without worrying about how much I owe, and how I’m going to pay this or that and who’s going to be knocking on my door from a collection agency. I’ve been through all that, and I don’t want to go back there. So a bit of appreciation goes a long way with me.

Another nice thing about my job is that we can bank hours for use at a later time. It’s pretty sweet to be able to take lots of time off and still get full paycheques. Oh yeah, the time off thing is pretty sweet too. We just write our names down on a calender when we want days off, and as long as everyone else hasn’t asked for the same day, there isn’t a problem. When you look at the job this way, it doesn’t seem like a bad deal, and for the people who like driving in the city, it’s not. I unfortunately hate being in the fucking city every day, so that trumps everything. I’m so sick of hating people all day long, rocking back and forth until the voices quit whispering “murder” and getting tension headaches from constantly gripping the wheel and vibrating. I don’t want to pull a Michael Douglas in “Falling Down”, but believe me, I think about it daily.

One really cool idea that I have is to hire people in anger management courses to stand at the off ramps with guns and wait for asshole drivers. They will have the legal right to pull these dickheads over, drag them out of their cars, and beat them until they shit their pants. Then they may go about their business with a warm, tacky seat for the rest of their commute. If the person didn’t oblige, then they would be able to shoot their tires out and then kill the driver. Come on, if you are driving like an asshole, you need to pay the piper and if you refuse to pay, then death is your only option. I also think these altercations should be televised globally to raise funds for paying the much needed “enforcers of justice”. I bet after people watched that show, there would be some courteous sons of bitches on our roadways, and in any other cities that threatened to bring us in for a trial run.

Anyhow, I have put in my notice at work, and will be done at the first of November. I will then begin my cross-country trek to the northwest. I have mixed emotions about that trip, because I don’t like spending that much time away from my girls. Gotta run now, the Norwood fair beckons.

I love you long time,

Birdman

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Oct 08

It’s official, I’m now old

wpid-mindofbirdman.jpg

I found myself so excited while telling a shipper about the TWO good sized poops I’d had that morning, that I’d completely forgotten to mention the mind shattering “session” I had the night before. When I told him about the great feats that I’d performed during said “session”, he looked at me and exclaimed that I must have taken a rap on the noggin. He wondered why on earth I would have started the conversation with a story off how formidable my bowels were, and where I had lost my balls? I really don’t understand where things went wrong. I used to try to keep myself bunged up, just so I wouldn’t have to waste valuable time taking a dump. It wasn’t only the crapping that used up my valuable time, but there’s the wiping, the washing of the hands, and don’t even get me started on those old air dryers.

You may think I’m joking, but you probably haven’t been whipping along the interstate in Ohio when the two minute warning hits. You know when you get that first rumble in your guts and you hope it’s just a bit of indigestion, but it’s not. It never is. Well, I was at the point where I was starting to get the sweats, my stomach was tied in knots, and my eyesight had grown very keen. I was looking about a mile ahead to see if the signs had any of those little toilet symbols on them, but they didn’t. They never do. It got so bad that I was promising God that I’d believe in him, if he’d just throw a bush down in the ditch or something. I really didn’t want much, just a little patch of sumacs or something to camouflage a bit, but he never sent any down. He never does.

I would never have made it to the nearest farm

That was it, I was going to have to stop and let ‘er fly beside the truck, I just wished that there wasn’t a road that ran along side of the highway. It wasn’t as busy as the interstate, so I grabbed a handful of napkins, jumped out, and ran to the other side of the truck. I had just made it around the corner and my drawers were around my ankles. It wasn’t pretty, and I think I was halfway through some sort of howl, when I heard the first horn excitedly honking at me. I looked over at the two girls that were cheering me on from their little blue car(good thing they were hot), and I waved. What the hell else can you do in that situation? By the time the fourth vehicle had honked at me, I was used to waving with one hand, and holding onto the tire with the other. I quickly did my paperwork and exited the scene. I then headed for the next rest area or truck stop, because I knew it wasn’t the end of this fight. No sir, not by a long shot.

I thought this was nicer than reality

So there you have the reason for my wishing constipation on myself, and I’m sure you’ll agree that it was warranted. I am thankful of one thing though, that cell phone cameras hadn’t been invented yet. I can’t even remember how I started this story off… oh right, two good poops in one morning. Man that was awesome.

Come on people now, smile on your brother,

Birdman

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Oct 08

Well That Was Poor…

I don’t know what people hated about Therapy Thursdays, but it sure wasn’t a hit. I’ll try one more time, but maybe won’t make any animal murdering jokes. It’s either everyone loves raccoons, or no one trusts my judgement, (I’m sure that’s not it). Anyhoo, I guess I’ll talk a bit about planning a wedding from the male standpoint, for Stacey.

It's either you eat him, or he'll eat someone's baby

I don’t know how many of you have ever been married, but I sure haven’t. I thought I could just get married on Tick Island and rent the Harwood Community Centre for the reception. Seemed pretty low key and familiar, and I’m sure it wouldn’t cost too much, but apparently my definition of low key is the same as other people’s definition of low rent. I was originally going to plan the wedding, but as my designs became known to the powers that be (all female), the reins were slowly taken from my hands, sort of like the teaser of driving you get when you’re a kid. You know, when your dad sits you on his knee and has his hands hovering over the wheel as you slowly creep along. Well I found out that even though he’s all excited and exclaiming, “Hey buddy, you’re driving.”, you really aren’t. I thought that I’d like to speed up and do a power slide like on Starsky and Hutch, but when I punched the gas and started to crank the wheel, he slammed on the brakes and started getting mad at me. Nice way to take the wind out of a little boys sails, Daddy Dreamcrusher. I guess what I’m trying to get at, is that I maybe have some strange ideas about how weddings go.

One thing I don’t understand is why do they have to cost so much? Why can’t you just have a bunch of moose roasts and a veggie tray for eats, and a couple of cases of those plastic sixty ouncers that guys used to smuggle up from the States? I think we should have some meat rolls, a crown and anchor wheel and a turkey shoot (before the vows and the booze start flowing), and whoever we know that plays an instrument could jam after the speeches. My sister can get ordained online, and I’d like to hit the thrift stores for the entire wedding party’s attire, and maybe any decorations we would need. I’m thinking we could do the whole wedding for a grand. I also think we should get some boxing gloves, and a makeshift ring, for when people get too much rye into them, and do it all legal like. You know how there is always someone that ruins Christmas? Well, there is always someone who ruins the wedding as well. I think we should have a pool, and everyone kicks in $5 to buy a square. At the end of the night everyone votes on who ruined the wedding, and we reveal who got the right square, they get half, and we get half. That’s what they call a win-win situation.

I tell you, I don’t understand why my duties as a wedding planner were stripped from me, but I do know that I was allowed to get my pal Bill to DJ, and I get to invite a few people that I know. I was also shown where it’s going to be, and I’m allowed to have a bachelor party with old strippers, a camper bus and some cocaine, so I guess that is a good thing. It’s gotta be better than just showing up to my surprise wedding, right?

While we’re on the subject of having no control, changethetopic.com is semi functional, so in the next few days, you will be forced to go there. Yes, it will be against your will, and no, you don’t get any compensation. If you are a subscriber, you will need to subscribe to the new one, when that option is available. There are randomly rotating pictures on the new blog, so if you have any you’d like to see on there, email them to the email that will show up on the contacts page when we get one. I want to thank the unimaginably sweet Mrs. Birdman for all of her hours of grief at the computer getting this going. I am honestly the luckiest SOB in the world to have her, and yes she is for rent, as long as the price is right, and you have her back by bedtime.

I love the cut of your jib,

Birdman

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Oct 06

Therapy Thursdays #1

newtherapythursday

Dear Birdman,

I hear you are an expert when it comes to controlling problem wildlife. I have troubles with raccoons getting into everything year after year and was wondering if you had any advice on how to keep them away?

Frank

First off, can’t you come up with a decent name like they do in the professional advice columns? Something like Rabidly Hating Raccoons, or Not Cool With Coons? Whatever. Just because I have no experience at this, doesn’t mean that I’m cheap and don’t deserve to be treated with advice columnist respect.

Now I don’t claim to be an expert in anything, but I do know that you must be a simpleton if you are trying to keep raccoons away. They are fucking delicious. My advice is to get a weapon of some sort and what I do is throw some rotting chicken or other meat out in the garbage and wait for the little bastards to try and open it. That’s when they taste my stout club,(but you can use whatever) right behind the ear. Another way I’ve heard of is to live trap and drown them, but I won’t trade a speedy kill for extra tender meat, especially if I have to look into those big brown eyes as I slowly lower them into the rain barrel. That’s just inhumane. Some of the neighbours get pissed off with the noise, what with the screaming and flailing if they don’t die right away, but I just send over a small pot of this delicious stew and that usually keeps them quiet for a while.

Raccoon Stew

~ 1 raccoon, cleaned, skinned and quartered
~ pepper
~ 4 cups water
~ 2 carrots, diced
~ 1 stalk celery, diced
~ 2 large potatoes, cubed
~ salt

In a large pot, place the meat and cover with water. Bring to a boil and cook for 1 hour.
Remove meat and allow to cool. Discard water.Remove meat from bones and cut into 1” – 2” cubes. Sprinkle with pepper.Add meat back to pot and add water, carrots, celery and potatoes. Season to taste with salt.Bring to a boil, reduce heat and cook until veggies are tender. Adjust seasoning if needed.Serve and enjoy.

Love thy neighbour… if they’re hot,

Birdman

P.S. Please send all questions to birdman@changethetopic.com. They will all be posted on the following Thursday. If you don’t send any, then I will be forced to invent shit, and you won’t like it.

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