Oct 17

My Movember rebuttal

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Listen here, folks, I have something to say about the recent hateful comments that have been made against facial hair.

I am no stranger to beard hate, in fact, you might say that I thrive on it. You see, when I was in high school, I grew two, dime-sized tufts of beard, one on each side of my chin. I thought it was pretty cool that at the age of 14, I was finally becoming a man. Sadly, the rest of the school, and my family, was not as receptive to my new found manliness as I was, so I underwent a good deal of taunting. I’m sure a lesser man would have been crippled by the sheer brutality of the jeers and lambasting that I had to endure, but I just kept my cool, vowing to emerge a bearded wonder of the world.

Fast forward several years, to when I could finally grow a thicket on my leathery face, but the women were always using it as an excuse to not have sex with me. I decided to shave it off in the interest of casual sex, or even a kiss, but lo and behold, it turns out that smoking cigarettes was also a turn off. I quit smoking, tried again, and was thwarted for what would be the third of several attempts to have the intercourse. When I had finally quit every bad habit I had, I was presented with the option to bump uglies with a lovely lass from a place that shall not be named. I was told that we should go out for drinks, and then to my place, so I cleaned the joint up and got the dead groundhog smell out of the bedroom, (don’t ask) to impress this grey eyed beauty. We went out and she drank several double Grand Marniers (at $11 a pop), before making out and leaving with… A BEARDED FUCKING MAN. So to all of you naysayers and beard sceptics who say that I shouldn’t grow a beard, I say: “Ok Baby, I won’t grow one when I’m near you, but any time I get a chance to show off my lumberjack look, I’m taking it”

Ladies, love yourselves a moustachioud man this Movember, and let him tickle your fancy with it. When he’s done, slip a sawbuck into his pocket, and donate a couple more to his Mo space. He’ll thank you, men’s cancer research will thank you, but most of all, that itch will be scratched and you can put those fantasies about Magnum to rest.

Don’t tell your old man that I told you to do that,

Birdman

Sep 18

I Was So Frigging Wrong

A bit of a handful

I thought a better way to get back at the carnies would be to assail them with both little girls and two of their friends. Four girls between 8 and 10 should be enough to drive them nuts right? I didn’t have a chance to notice, because I was constantly trying to keep track of the four of them. Also, it turns out that carnies don’t pay attention to the rules that are written on their signs, and will allow children that are three feet tall to go on a ride that has a 48″ minimum.

I guess I shouldn’t assume that they don’t care. It could be that they are unable to read words or string those words into sentences. Yeah, that makes a bit more sense now.

As we wandered the fairgrounds, looking for the next ride, a young voice cried out:  “Look, a girl with no shirt on!”

I craned my neck in all directions, brimming with excitement, only to realize that she was talking about the top half of a buxom blonde painted on the side of one of the carny booths. Her hair was strategically placed to cover her ample breasts, and her come hither smile was most certainly making me blush.

I said:  “It’s probably a mermaid.”

I mean really…who wants to start explaining to a ten year old that some of the workers in a traveling carnival might not be the purest of souls?

She replied:  “Oh yeah, because not all mermaids wear sea shell bras. Some of them can’t find enough sea shells.”

 

That got me thinking , maybe that’s the reason my old neighbour out west never wore a bra either. Seashells are probably very hard to come by when you live on the Alaska highway.

Another thing I have noticed is that the carnies are a harder looking bunch than they used to be, what with neck tattoos and piercing of all known extremities becoming so popular these days. I was actually a little frightened to put these children into the care of someone who looks like he might be a striker for the Hells Angels by night, and run the Tilt-a-Whirl by day. Actually, if the Angels ran the midway it would be a much tighter ship, and probably a lot easier to find weed.

Speaking of weed, it’s harvest season and if there is anyone who needs confirmation on how good their crop is, just drop a bag off to the old Birdman. I will smoke some and tell you what I think of it. I will then publish your name, strain and prices on my blog, along with all of your contact info. I’ll also let you in on a little secret… The bigger the bag, the more I’ll like it. 😉

You are all beautiful to me,

Birdman

Sep 17

Carnies Beware!

The girls chose the fair, and they’re feeling ornery. I dare any dirty hawker to tell T that she’s not tall enough for their ride today. The child scares me sometimes, when she gets that look in her eyes like she just ate a can of fury.

I can picture the mayhem now, and it pleases me, because I love keeping carnies on their toes. You just know those vermin are rising from a drug/alcohol induced slumber and can’t really handle shit like a real person. I want to see kids puking in the seats of the Teacups and the Strawberries by 11:00, and if someone could shit themselves on the Gravitron before noon, that would be spectacular.

That’s when the bastards start coming out of their meth haze and start the harassment of the passersby. I like it when they try to goad me into playing by insinuating that I can’t win at their game. I usually counter with “Yeah? Well at least I win at life.”,  then I strut away laughing maniacally towards the street meat and deep fried Mars bars.

Sweet baby Jebus in a manger, I love those five dollar bundles of ecstasy, sooo rich with nutrition. I’m kind of wanting to try the deep fried Coke too, but I don’t think it’s made it to the southern Ontario fair circuit yet. I do know that the tooth cracking pull taffy is there, and that’s good enough for this hillbilly.

I can smell them from here.

Take the high road,

Birdman