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

Sep 13

The Cocoon

You might be asking yourself, “What the hell is cocooning?”.

Well, cocooning is anything that happens in the cocoon. The cocoon, because I know you are curious, is a magical place that we sleep in, but that isn’t really a place at all. It would have to be defined as a feeling and a warmth. We have cocooned at the cabin, and in the van, but mostly we cocoon in the bedroom. It can be anywhere that you throw a warm blanket around yourselves and snuggle into.

The ultimate cocoon?

The ultimate cocoon?

(photo credit)

The cocoon is where we find out about each other, and ourselves. Where we can lay there, adoring one another for an eternity, just staring admiringly at each other and wondering how we got so lucky. It doesn’t matter what shitty, foul kind of day we have had, it is all washed away in the cocoon. Another cool feature of the cocoon, is the way time almost stops there. We have woke up at 5:30 AM and just cocooned away until mid afternoon, with nothing more than a few sips of water and whatever chip crumbs we could scrounge up from the bags on the floor. It’s like a modern day Narnia, but with more nudity and better candy (Turkish Delight sucks).

Speaking of Narnia. Does anyone else think Mr. Tumnus was on the verge of being a dangerous offender? Luring children to his cave, drugging them and acting really creepy with his flute and pedophile beard. I’m not an expert by any means, but I think a few parents nowadays would be on the lookout for that dude.

Now back to the cocoon. It’s also a place for frolic and shenanigans of the highest order. That can be anything from wrestling to backrubs to kissing and maybe even a little whoopee. I think you folks (if more than one person reads this) know what the highest order of shenanigans could entail.

It’s also nice because I can say anything in the cocoon without fear of being judged or laughed at (except maybe my Chewbacca impression). The cocoon is also where we make our plans for the day (which usually end up with the first half being more cocooning). If you don’t already have a cocoon, you need to get to work on that now, it is one of those things that can easily keep two people together with a bond that can’t be broken by the average things that break bonds.

On a more sad note, you cannot cocoon with just anyone. I have found out that cocooning only works properly if two people truly respect and love each other.

 

For instance, you can’t cocoon with a stalker type, because they always out cocoon you with their crazy doe eyes, their misshapen, crazy tits and their knocking you out and tying you to the bed, just to possess you for a few extra moments until the cops get there, because the crazy bitch forgot to take your cell phone and you were able to dial 911 and let the phone GPS pinpoint your location for the local authorities to find you.

Find the right  person, and cocoon the shit out of them. Your relationship will thank you.

Muskrat, muskrat candlelight, doin’ the town and doin’ it right,

Birdman