May 19

I Love Hay Day, And I Don’t Care Who Knows It

Can't you almost feel the soil between your fingers?

Can’t you almost feel the soil between your fingers?

Yeah, that’s right. I love a farming game, and I’m not ashamed of it. It brightens up my days.

It also gives me hope for my career as a farmer.

I can’t wait for the day that I can grow crops, raise livestock, and mine my own land. It will allow me to create artisan goods that I can then sell at my roadside stand and command premium prices. Serious prices. Check it out.

Muffins are fucking easy to make.

Muffins are fucking easy to make, and that isn’t even a really nice coal and iron bracelet. I’ll be rich!

You just find the duct tape, paint, and other shit in trunks and tool boxes, or somebody gives it to you for selling them a bunch of your overpriced junk. You then sell it for fifty times what it’s worth. It’s fucking insane in the membrane.

People always ask me why I would want to be a farmer. I usually just stare back at them in disbelief and show them my garden.

See that in the top right corner? Diamonds and gold, bitches.

See that in the top right corner? Diamonds and gold, bitches. Farm on.

In case you need it translated, I’ll give you a little glimpse at what we’re talking about here.

Yeah, I really can sell a three pack of olives for $82. Half a cacao pod for  $86? All fucking day, bud.

Yeah, I really can sell a three pack of olives for $82. Half a cacao pod for $86? All fucking day, buddy.

I’m probably going to need a greenhouse for some of this stuff, only because I think that some of it might need longer than the 45 day growing season that we have, but I’m pretty sure that I’ll be able to afford one after I sell a bunch of strawberries at $50 a piece. Booyah, motherfuckers. Getting paid like Tyson. I’m going to be making it rain at the Pro Hardware when I’m picking up the stakes for my over abundant tomato plants.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not just in it for the money; that’s just a bonus. I’m also in it for the satisfaction of seeing an odd array of people happy after shopping in my town. They are just strolling about and buying locally sourced products in a quaint setting; it just warms my heart.

If you really go out of your way to help them, they will reward you with things that are sometimes priceless. Like a bolt.

Woo hoo! Now I can finish upgrading my barn. Thanks, pretty lady.

Woo hoo! Now I can finish upgrading my barn. Thanks, pretty lady.

Another great thing about farming is how willing the local kids are to help you succeed. Take Tom for instance.

What I want are some marker stakes, Tom.  Can you get me some? Of course you can't, you simple freak.

What I want are some marker stakes, Tom. Can you get me some? Of course you can’t, you simple freak.

He will run and find you all kinds of things. Not the things you want the most, but for nine diamonds a day, he sure makes your life easier.

wpid-2015-05-18-23.45.38.png.png

Doesn’t he look like he should be playing Dueling Banjos?

I know that $1087 looks like a lot of money for nine lollipops, but I can turn them around easily for over three grand. It’s all organic sugar and colouring.

Anyhow, as fun as Hay Day is for me, the best part is that my sister is in my neighbourhood too. So is Alice, but she never talks to us in chat, so we think that she’s an asshole.1)I’m just guessing that we both do. We love to help each other out, and it’s really nice to be able to shoot the shit with her when we end up on at the same time.

When I got home at Easter, our other sister and Mrs. Birdman, in a fit of jealousy, started calling us farm nerds, because we were doing some insider trading at the table. They called themselves Rebel Nerds, obviously because they were upset at not being invited to our neighbourhood, and then they teased us relentlessly.

It was like water off a duck’s back with us, as we are emotionally secure in our Hay Day bliss, but I did secretly want to hear them beg to be let in.

On Easter morning, after hearing about how the rebel nerds were all chummy and shit, I sent an Easter card to celebrate the death walk of old Jebus.

wpid-download_20150519_003018.jpeg

That sealed it for us being the coolest nerd team in the family, and it also made us remember to feed our cows.

Birdman

P.S. If you’re active on Hay Day and like the derby, come and look us up. Here’s where to find us.

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Awesome footnotes   [ + ]

1. I’m just guessing that we both do.
May 18

Working On My Shit

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I got back out here on Tuesday night, and went to work for a couple of days, but have had the last few off. The days off, were really busy, but also good to keep my mind off of being alone again. Today, I am taking some time to relax in my underwear and catch up on shit.

My own shit.

Johnny got his BBQ fixed up, so I’m going to head over there in a bit and eat some food. I might possibly drink a cocktail or three, if he allows me to sleep on his couch or finds me a ride home. His place is cleaner, and it has better snacks, so I hope it’s the couch that he chooses.

Yesterday, I went down to look at the house we are buying when the girls get out here. It’s as cool and homey as I remembered it, and brought back a lot of great memories. It was a safe place during a lot of my gloomier days. I think that’s why I like it and Hudson’s Hope so much. It’s where I went to escape some shitty times. Aaron and Lannie, and then the boys after they came along, always made me feel better, and still do.

(Update: I didn’t finish this before going for a delicious dinner of steak, asparagus, beer, and new potatoes. The post from here on out is today.)

As the big move draws near, I find myself getting very emotional, because it’s really happening. My dreams of off grid living are getting their start.

I know it’s not going to be immediate, but the dream is alive and growing, and I got my subscription to Small Farm Canada when I was home. My first issue was waiting for me when I got here, and I’ve read it cover to cover, twice. I get to the point of weeping tears of joy, when I read this magazine, and I always have, as I dream of our Dexter cattle, farm fresh eggs, and crop rotations.

I know that it’s not for everyone, but I have become so incensed with the way our world has changed that I found myself getting more and more depressed as I thought about it.

Until I met Mrs. Birdman.

She encouraged me, even though she wasn’t on board with my ideas from the start. She would give me little pushes when she could see me losing sight of my dream, even if it was just sharing an article about alternative homes, talking about growing the ingredients for her favourite salsa, or mentioning that having eggs from our own chickens will be a nice addition.

It all helped. Whether she knew it or not.

Now I can’t get it out of my head, which is good. It’s a lot better dream than the crazy one I had last night. Meat dreams are insane.

Birdman

May 11

Conversations With Blue

wpid-mindofbirdman.jpg

This morning Blue came up to bed as everyone else was getting ready for their day. I was trying to avoid getting up before ten, so I turned his whining into a conversation to drag out my lounging. Hey, it’s not my fault that he didn’t feel like eating when I let him out at 6:30.

 

Blue: (high pitched hunger whine)

Me: What’s the matter, boy? Are you okay? Come up here in the bed for a minute.

Blue jumps up on the bed and mashes my face and balls with his jaggedy pins and does another whine.

“What is it? Oh, you’re sad because I’m leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I hate it when you go away. Every time you go, it’s for years.”

“No, it’s never been more than a few months. I think that you’re exaggerating.”

“No, I am not exaggerating. I can tell by all of the new gray hairs that you have when you come home. Why do you have to keep leaving? I love our mornings laying in bed. Rub my belly. With both hands. You know you have two.”

“Okay, I’ll rub it for a minute, but then I’m going back to sleep. The reason I have to go back out, is to get things ready for when we move. You know that we are moving, right?”

“I heard you guys talking about it. Are we all going? Usually it’s just me that moves. I’ve had a bunch of different families. I like it here with you guys though. I even like the lady now. She is really nice to me. The kids always hug me too. I hope I get to move with you.”

“Oh buddy, that makes me sad. I love you so much. Yeah we are all going. You and I will be on the bus, and your mom and sisters will be flying out. It’s going to be a long trip, but I don’t think that you would like to be stuck in an airplane hold for hours at a time.”

“No, I would rather stay on the ground, because flying seems unnatural. I will protect you on the bus, so you can sleep. I won’t let any crazy guys cut your head off and eat it.1)That insane prick got out the other day, so be on the lookout.

“Thanks, boy, but we are driving our own bus out. Your nana might come too. You’ll like it where we are going. You can go to visit Woody and chase deer off of his yard. He would like to have a hunting buddy. There are all kinds of mountains and forests out there, so you will have all kinds of places to run.”

“Oh Daddy, that sounds so fun. I’m your good, running boy. I like to run fast. Can we take the squirrel with the white tail with us? He’s my friend and I like to chase him up the tree. Can you please scratch where my nuts used to be?”

“You bet I can. How’s that? I know you like to chase him, but we can’t take him. There are no walnut trees out there for him to get his food. You can probably fight a bear or a cougar though. Do you think you’d like that?”

“Oh, that’s really good. I know it’s been three years, but the scar still itches. I don’t know what bears and cougars are, but I probably would like to fight one.”

“Here, I’ll show you some photos.”

Grizzly Bear Standing And Roaring Rocky Mountains

Grizzly Bear Standing And Roaring Rocky Mountains

And here’s a cougar.

Mrrrawr

Mrrrawr

“Daddy, I would fight the bear if was hurting you, but I think we should stay away from them if we can. As for the cougar, I’d hump her leg, if I still had my man juice.”

“Haha, I know you would, buddy. Me too. This is what a real cougar looks like.”

http://www.canadiangeographic.ca/magazine/mj04/indepth/

http://www.canadiangeographic.ca/magazine/mj04/indepth/

“Jesus, no. You know I get scared of the cat at our pet store. I never want to fight a cougar.”

“Yeah, me neither. I guess we had better get you fed. It will probably be the last time I get to before I come back. I’m really going to miss you, my good boy. You are the best dog I’ve ever had.”

“Can we please not talk about it? Just keep rubbing.”

Never stop rubbing

Never stop rubbing

Birdman

Awesome footnotes   [ + ]

1. That insane prick got out the other day, so be on the lookout.
May 07

Therapy Thursday

therapythursday2

Dear Birdman

I see that you got a couple of kids. Me too, and we live in a small apartment.

Ever since my old lady fucked off on me, I have had my kids every other week in my apartment. I think the bitch just figured that I was going to pay money and never see them again, but the courts said I could have them every other week and I don’t gotta pay her anything. Like I am going to give her a grand a month for fucking around on me with her boss.

So the problem I have is that I don’t want the kids eating crap when they’re at my house, because she tried to tell the court that I was going to malnourish them or something. Like ya, I love to eat junk food and I drink a lot of soda, but she makes it sound like it’s all I feed them. 

My problem is that I woke them up tonight when I opened a bag of doritos, then when I opened my soda can they opened the door and asked if they could have some. I was all the way across the apartment and it still woke them up. How do I open cans and bags of snacks without making any noise. I hate not being able to let them have some treats before bed.

Studebaker

Dear Studebaker?

Is that your name, or a lame attempt at a nickname?

Anyhow, I really don’t care about your shitty relationship woes. He said, she said and so on, and so forth. Tell it to your therapist, or send a question in for next week. I’m just taking them one at a time right now.

Your chips and pop problem I can help you with, as I have had that problem in the past. I will tell you that it’s almost impossible to snack quietly, so instead we will be doing more of a conditioning sort of thing and there are two ways that you can go about it, depending on how old the kids are.

The first way works best if your kids are under about eight years old. They are way easier to manipulate when they are younger.

1. Get yourself a terrifying costume like this one. If your kids like clowns, go with something else.

photo from The Daily Hiit

photo from The Daily Hiit

2. Put some fake blood on your hands and mouth.

3. Stand about six feet away, facing their bedroom door and loudly open your pop can and your bag of salty goodness. Get some fake blood on both.

4. When they open the door, laugh maniacally and extend a bloody hand, with a chip in it, toward them and offer them a drink from your bloody pop can.

5. Repeat if necessary, but in my experience after two times, you will never see them out of their beds again.1)Keep something on hand to clean up urine with. That was a hard lesson learned.

6. Sign them up for therapy when they become trained, because it will be weird when you see them in social situations. It’s hard to explain why your kid has a seizure or something, every time someone opens a drink at a party.

The second way will actually help your kids to never want to eat your chips or drink your pop ever again.

1. When your kids aren’t home, open a bag of your favourite snacks and sprinkle some Borax or other powdered cleanser into the bag. Not enough to kill them, but enough to make it blister their lips.

2. Now open a can of pop and dump half of it out. Mix in the cheapest fish oil that your pharmacy has and let it fester.

3. Sit as you normally would, open a new can and bag, then quickly hide them while crinkling the chip bag. When they come out and ask you for some, offer it freely.

4. Even the most stubborn teenagers won’t ask after the third time

I hope that this helped you out. If you have any blow outs because of any advice I’ve given, I am not responsible. Remember that. I don’t need the cops here because you put too much cleanser in the chips. Consider this my disclaimer.

Birdman

P.S. You can send your questions for the Birdman, or possibly Mrs. Birdman, if the question piques her interest, to birdman at changethetopic.com or if you like anonymity, just go to the Harass Us page and put in a fake name and email.

Awesome footnotes   [ + ]

1. Keep something on hand to clean up urine with. That was a hard lesson learned.
May 05

Furry Fandom?

birdmandesk

So I went back and read the old post, How To Properly Shag A Sheep today. I still get a kick out of it, and the fact that roughly thirty people a day, every day read that post.

It’s the sole reason that some ad companies keep sending me emails. I hadn’t written in a year, but still consistently got over a thousand hits a month from all sorts of people.

Sadly, a lot of them got there by searching for phrases like, but not limited to:

  • how to fuck sheep
  • can man fuck sheep
  • sheep vagina
  • sex with sheep

When I got to the end of the post, I noticed a bunch of comments that I hadn’t seen before. One of them, I found kind of odd and disturbing.

kobidobi

Needless to say, I responded in anger at someone who is into zoophilia calling me wicked for being froward.1)adjective 1. (of a person) difficult to deal with; contrary. *I had to look it up.* I’m still trying to figure out what any of this has to do with the Lannisters.

So anyhow, I was on this pinhead’s profile and saw a bunch of posts and videos about people dressed as stuffed animals, and while I stared at the sheer volume of them, Mrs. B came to kiss me good night. I asked her to look at it and she said, “Yeah, they’re furries. It’s a real thing.”

I, of course, had to look into it. It’s real, with conventions and everything else. People have costumes that can cost more than $10000 and some of them have sex with the costumes on. Crazy, huh? I mean, I could understand it if they were Wookies or Storm Troopers, because everybody does that. Right?

Of course I’m kidding. I don’t care who you choose to have sex with, as long as they are into it too. Dress up as Toto, and have your partner be Dorothy for all I care. Hump the living shit out of her leg and leave a stain on the ruby slippers. Fly your freak flag high and proud, I say.

Do not have sex with real animals.

I know, I shouldn’t have to tell you that, but obviously it needs to be said. Go and look at the thread with the idiot and I. He seems to think that it’s okay to have sex with whatever you want, which brings me back to the furries.

the survey was replicated in 2008, and it found 17% of respondents reported zoophilia. The older lower results, which are even lower than estimated in the general population, were due to the methodology of questioning respondents face-to-face which led to social desirability bias.

That’s from the Furry Fandom Wikipedia page.

What the fuck is wrong with people? I know that Blue loves me more than probably anything2)with the exception of eating garbage and smelling things, but I’m certain that he does not want me to fuck him.

I’m absolutely sure of it.

I’ve had lots of female dogs over the years, and many had been in heat, but not once did any of them lift her tail and puff up her vagina to lure me in. Not one time.

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t fuck her even if she was asking for it in concise English. I am not into it, but that’s just me. Call me a prude.

This kobidobidog seems to be okay with it though. Unless he’s a troll, but I don’t think so. There’s too much evidence of him being really into it.

So there it is. I’m going to let the dog out for a pee, and go curl up with my sweet mama. She’s been waiting for several hours.

Word to your moms,

Birdman

Awesome footnotes   [ + ]

1. adjective 1. (of a person) difficult to deal with; contrary. *I had to look it up.*
2. with the exception of eating garbage and smelling things