Sep 19

Sweet, merciful Jesus

I just say that for effect, but I’d almost start believing in God if this pain would go away. I’ve never had kidney stones, but I’m pretty sure I do now. I’ve been waking up with this horrible pain in the right side of my back for a couple of nights, the likes of which I’ve never felt. If I had to choose what it most resembles, I’d have to go back sixteen years or so to Peterborough on a Saturday night, when twelve guys (probably closer to four) got me down and kicked the piss out of me. They obviously didn’t do a good enough job, because when they were walking away laughing, I yelled out something that might have insinuated that they were cowards. Well, let me tell you this, even cowards don’t like being called that it seems, because they chased me, and being a bit wounded myself, I made it about three feet before I tripped, and then it began again. Wow, I thought I was getting my ass handed to me before. This was way worse in every sense of the word. Anyhow to make a long story somewhat shorter, I was pissing blood for a while and I never drank in Peterborough alone again.

Remember that time I started with one story, and finished with another? Get used to it, I’m a bit of a wild card.

Now I’m at the Trenton hospital, feeling like I just got boot-fucked in my tender bits. I love waiting around with the other patients, singing old negro spirituals and playing charades until, one by one, we are called in to get our fates handed to us by doctors dressed in zoot suits, who sing your test results to the tune of “Yankee Doodle Dandy” .

After we are released with clean bills of health, we march to the beat of a different drummer, all the way down to the Sherwood, where the hospital buys us a round of drinks, and we are thoroughly entertained by a one legged stripper. Sorry, I was just having a painkiller dream. What really happened is that I waited for half an hour,  got urine and blood work done, got an IV shot of some dope, drank a big jug of ice water, had an ultrasound, got a prescription, and went to the ball field for chili and cupcakes. Happy birthday YaYa, enjoy ten while you can, we expect you to have a job by the time you’re eleven.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve just dropped my nightly dose. It’s bedtime for Birdman, and hopefully the future Mrs. Birdman will come in and rub my back.

Please be safe my children,

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

Sep 16

Wing Night Is Not For The Weak Of Heart, Or Stomach

I think my body tried to explain something to me last night, as I was cramming the second pound of wings along with the second pint into my maw.

I, of course, paid it no heed. I mean what the hell does it know? I’m the brains of this here operation, and I’m not taking orders from some bloated, dough-like bag of guts that thinks one pound is enough. I’m a man, and no one is going to tell me what to do. Right? Who’s with me fellas?

Just to show it who’s wearing the pants, I figured I’d DQ something different, and tried to stuff a chocolate dipped cone in for dessert, which is probably what started the fight. Needless to say, I overdosed on Zantac and was apologizing profusely to my rotund, but extremely wise body in between meat dreams.

I’m sure this weekend will result in me getting some pictures on this here internet thingy. Any requests? I’m not too frightened of copyright infringement, so pick something good. Like really, what can they possibly do to me?1)famous last words

It’s also my stepdad day with the girls tomorrow. I’m giving them the choice of either the movies, the fall fair or Chapters. I hope they pick the fair, but I’m sure they will go for the fucking bookstore. Why did I have to fall in love with a girl that has smart kids that want to read and shit? I guess it’ll pay off in the end, but I’m really looking forward to some taffy and making fun of the dirty carnies. Oh how I hate the carnies, with their brown teeth, mullets and carefree, gypsy lifestyle.

Make sure you whip your hair,

Birdman

P.S. Did you notice I put a picture up?

Awesome footnotes   [ + ]

1. famous last words
Sep 15

I Love Date Night

wpid-mindofbirdman.jpg

I just don’t love how tired I am the next morning. I keep trying to knock it out of park like I’m twenty, but in reality I’m rounding forty, can rarely make it through a night without getting up to pee and I have an arthritic shoulder. I also don’t like that women peak so late in life, when men are starting to feel the abuse that their bodies have taken over the years. Had I known, I wouldn’t have done things like, but not limited to:

  • Jumping out of speeding watercraft
  • Seeing how many headbutts I could take before concussing (7)
  • Seeing how many girls I could kiss, without getting herpes (18)
  • Jumping off of assorted bridges, because Scooter did it.
  • Punching bouncers
  • Other various feats of strength

Of course, my male ego likes to make me think I’m worn out because I last so long and go at it with such adolescent enthusiasm that any mortal man would faint at the task, but I think if we ask Mrs. Birdman, we would learn differently. (Excuse me as I weep silently, while clutching at the last shreds of my manliness.)

 

Oh well, now that the kids are back to school, we can get back on schedule, which is date night every Wednesday, and on every other Thursday is the best day of all. (drumroll please) Wing/date night. Jesus, can life get any better than a carnivorous, beer fueled feeding frenzy, followed by seven minutes of blissful passion?

I don’t think so.
Thanks for being here for me,
Birdman

Sep 14

Learning To Blog

I’m sorry about the way I write, but this is how I think. I’ve been told all through school that I’m all over the place and need to focus, but it’s not that easy for me. I want to self diagnose ADD, or something, but that’s mainly so I could score some Ritalin. The problem with self diagnosing, is the prescription. The lady at the pharmacy here is pretty savvy and constantly thwarts my efforts.

Next I’m going to figure out what the category and tag features do on here, but that will have to wait until I get home from work tonight. The WordPress app for Android can only do so much, and I’ve found that no matter how much I yell and throw it, it just won’t read my mind.

As for my job, I’ve (we’ve) made the decision to quit and head back to the oilpatch for the winter. This will afford me the time I’ll need to see if I want to pursue a career in radio, which is something that really interests me. It’s going to be pretty tough, being away from my family for so long, but I’ve done it before, and we can clear up a lot of debt. It’s pretty nice to have that option these days, with the economy the way it is. I’m hoping to go out for a month or so, come home for the holidays and then back out for another month or so.

It’s a camp job, so all my lodging and meals are covered. The other nice thing about camp is that the ether bunny stops by every few nights for a little sumpin sumpin. I think I’ll put a sign on my door this year, to only use half the amount of ether as last year, so I can be at least partially awake. It might help with that cottonmouth feeling as well. I feel a bit picky asking, because although it’s nice to know you are getting laid on a regular basis, I’m not even sure that I like receiving anal.

I was going to wait to tell you this, but sometimes I say inappropriate things. I’ll let you decide what’s real and what’s fiction.

Hope to see you tomorrow,

Birdman