Oct 29

Shenaniganisms or shenaniganesque

Either of those two made-up words will work for last night. The framework of the night was pretty normal for a Friday. I got off work and had a couple beer, went home and had a couple beer, went to the Queens and had a couple beer, then came back home and went to bed. Pretty mild if you ask me.

The intricacies of the night are where we float into lewdness and debauchery, not that there’s anything wrong with that. I called my old friend Bugsy up and arranged for a visit, earlier in the week. We hadn’t seen each other in years, and it was about time. You can’t have one of your groomsmen showing up at the rehearsal and you not recognize each other. I then called Joey, but he turns into a pumpkin at ten o’clock when he has to work the next day, so he was out, and Yvette is 4500 kms away, so I didn’t even bother to call her. I did call another good friend, Vanilla Thunder, and he was miraculously available, so we made the required plans and got the ball rolling. Mrs. Birdman was also making plans on her end, seeing as it was the band we were hoping to hire for our wedding that was playing, and she needed to make sure there were some connoisseurs there as well. You have to understand that we wouldn’t just go out drinking for no reason, but band choice is a very important part of wedding planning, so it was a necessary evil, and obviously we needed others there to make sure we chose properly.

Bugsy showed up a little after dark, and the fun began. We told stories, consumed at least four beer, and started to get our glow on. That’s when Dora and Swiper showed up dressed as convicts, and I could tell that things were going to get sketchy. We drank the rest of the beer, and started to make our way down to the finest drinking establishment in town. Yep, you guessed it, The Queens Hotel and Shillelagh Lounge. Vanilla Thunder (VT) showed up shortly after, followed by Dawanda and Wheels. I’m pretty sure Mrs. Birdman and I got kissed by all the same people, and luckily some of them were wearing a mask when it got to my turn. I’m told that it’s totally not gay for a dude to start necking with you, if there is a thin membrane of latex between the lips. I don’t know if that applies to oral if there’s a condom involved, but when I get there, I’ll let you know. Vanilla Thunder told me that it is completely natural to get an erection when kissing another man with a mask on, so it kind of put me at ease and the stabbing in my belly didn’t bother me as much. Oh yeah, and the band played some tunes.

I was told that Mama needed some sugar, so Mrs. Birdman and I left the den of lechery before 1 AM, and headed for the cocoon. We walked home, quietly holding hands and being proud of ourselves for booking one of the hottest indie bands in the area for our special day. We got home and crawled up the stairs, and we cocooned for a while, hoping that no one would come back before we thoroughly showed our appreciation to each other. It turned out that we really didn’t need an hour, so we got to have a nap before VT and Dawanda showed up. VT was sporting a lovely $125 citation for having an open container of alcohol in public, and he thought that he had better go tell the missus about his ordeal. I heard a bit of screaming from the cocoon, but it subsided quickly, and I talked to Dawanda while VT was most certainly regaling Mrs. B with the injustice served upon him. Come on, aren’t we getting a bit out of hand when we start handing out tickets to people who are responsibly walking home from the bar with a beer in their hand? They aren’t driving home drunk, or starting fights. Sure, maybe they sing old sea shanties a bit too loud, and maybe they are a bit boisterous as they yell, “I fucking love you like a brother” in your ear, but really, they don’t need a $125 ticket for that. I don’t think getting a manslaughter charge costs that much.

I crawled back into the warm cocoon with my true love, while VT and Dawanda finished their night of drinking downstairs. I had just fallen back asleep when I heard some shouting, and my fiance’s name being taken in vain. We ignored this, and fell back into our slumber. When we got up this morning, there were clothes strewn about, and a pile of muddy pants and such by the back door. It seems that VT couldn’t wait to use the washroom, so he trekked out the back door into the silty swamp that is our backyard. I guess he’s fatter than he looks, because he sunk in up to his knees, and luckily wasn’t wearing his fancy shoes, so they weren’t lost or even dirty. We won’t try to figure out why someone would go out for a piss in sub-zero weather with no shoes on, because we aren’t judgy like that.

What happened to Dora and Swiper, or Bugsy and Wheels? Well, Dora and Swiper were smart and took a cab home just after we left. Swiper sometimes doesn’t like to leave a party when he’s been drinking, because alcohol affects him differently than most of us. Where we all are completely normal, and clear of thought when we drink, Swiper sometimes has his judgement clouded by the booze. He doesn’t realize that it feels bad to go to work with a hangover, and Dora had to help him by dragging his ass to the cab, and then dragging his ass to bed. As for Wheels, he didn’t come back after the bar, so we assume he was picked up by A dude in a Zorro costume. He has always had a thing for Spaniards. Bugsy  didn’t come back either, and the last report was that he left with a cougar. He’s 42 I think, so a cougar to him would have to be around 60 or so. You go boy. We did see him at the house around 7:30 with a gang of rabble-rousers to pick up his truck and go to work. It was sure good to see him, and to know that he’s still the same guy that I hung around twenty years ago. He’d still do anything for you, no matter when or where, and I really mean that. He is fiercely loyal, almost to a fault. You could bang on his door at 3 AM and tell him you rolled your car and needed to get it out of someone’s field before daybreak, and he’d take off and show up with a stolen tow truck, if that’s what it would take. Luckily, that’s never happened ;), but if it did, I know who to call.

As for VT, he left here in my pyjama pants, a sweater vest and a shiny pair of oxfords, with a bag of muddy clothes in his hand, and a cloud in his eye. I hope Dawanda is getting a bit of a nap today, and is ready for round two, because we gonna get down tonight. I’m hoping that there are more shenanigans this evening, because I have no idea what to write about tomorrow, just like I had no idea last night. All in all, I had a great time with some of my favourite people, and I really don’t think it gets better than that. I have the best friends, and there isn’t a day goes by that I don’t consider myself lucky to know each and every one of them. I think it’s also cool, that as you get older, you are way pickier than when you were young. You now choose your friends on their merit as people, and not on how much beer they can drink, although my friends can drink more beer than your friends.

I’m going to sign off now,

Birdman

P.S. My editor has gone to work, so let me know if there are any punctuation or grammatical errors, and for the love of Pete, like our fucking facebook page by clicking the funny coloured letters to the left.

 

Oct 28

Friends

I was thinking about that today while reading a message from an American friend that I’ve never met. Weird huh? I’ve never met Seth, but I still consider him my friend. I know we’ve talked a lot and bugged each other about who lives in the better country (it’s me), but I’ve never shook his hand, or sat down to a fridge full of [easyazon_link identifier=”B001BCFUBU” locale=”US” tag=”granligh-20″]beer[/easyazon_link] with him. I’m going to invite him to my wedding, if he’s able to come, but then I wonder if that’s crazy too. I guess we’ll find out next summer, along with Dennis and Scott. I met both of them at work and I’ve gotten so that I go to the board in the morning to see if I get to go there for a pickup. I don’t know if it’s a familiarity thing, but I’ve grown to like the assholes. Okay, I guess I like them because they’re good guys, and maybe just a little bit sexy.

I then started thinking about a lot of my friends, and how we became friends. There are some crazy stories, with fighting, [easyazon_link identifier=”0544538544″ locale=”US” tag=”granligh-20″]booze[/easyazon_link], and other [easyazon_link identifier=”B001AULY90″ locale=”US” tag=”granligh-20″]illicit substances[/easyazon_link] at the forefront of most of them. There are also a lot of stories that I don’t remember the beginning to. I wonder if any of you remember how you met me, or did I just show up and not leave? Some of my really good friends have no recollection of how we met, but some remember every detail like it was yesterday.

I remember how I met my best man, and best male friend, Joe. He was sitting in my seat on the school bus, because I was a hoodlum and had to sit directly behind the bus driver. It was his first day of school after moving here from Florida and it was grade seven. It turned out that he didn’t know anyone, and I lived close, so we became friends. We’ve done a pile of crazy shit together, and if the fun police would leave us to our ways, we’d probably do a pile more. We drifted apart while he was living out west, and then while I was, but there was never a time that I wouldn’t have done what I could to help him out, and I guess he probably feels the same way, but I’ve never asked.

He’s also the guy I’d trust the most with my best interests. I know that’s a strange term, but how else do you sum up: [easyazon_link identifier=”B00QM8IBF0″ locale=”US” tag=”granligh-20″]car[/easyazon_link], [easyazon_link identifier=”B008PSP5SG” locale=”US” tag=”granligh-20″]pets[/easyazon_link], plans of evil, money, [easyazon_link identifier=”B006FHMD02″ locale=”US” tag=”granligh-20″]guns[/easyazon_link], [easyazon_link identifier=”B0002UP01M” locale=”US” tag=”granligh-20″]horses[/easyazon_link], [easyazon_link identifier=”B005CFAG9S” locale=”US” tag=”granligh-20″]dead hookers[/easyazon_link], rides to the airport, [easyazon_link identifier=”B001PIDIB4″ locale=”US” tag=”granligh-20″]fake passports[/easyazon_link], family and my life into two words? I don’t think I can trust him, I know I can. Over the past twenty eight years he’s proven he is loyal friend, not only to me, but to others as well. I’m still trying to get info out of him from shit that happened in high school.

He has a true heart and a mischievous soul, so it’s only right that we ended up as homies. It’s also pretty handy that my sweet baby likes him too, but I guess that we have very similar personalities, so we should like the same type of people. I know that I like her friends. The ones I’ve met so far, anyways.

Back to my pal Joey now. He also loves his mom, but why wouldn’t he? She’s one of the sweetest and funniest ladies I know, and believe you me, I know a few. He has two, slightly hyper, but extremely sweet dogs, that he takes very good care of. He plans his days and evenings around them, and that’s how it should be.

One story that I do remember is when Joe, Steve and I were out in Cold Beer. Steve is Joe’s cousin, another friend that you’ll hear about later, and Cold Beer was a rowboat that someone else owned. The three of us grabbed a bunch of [easyazon_link identifier=”B00BHAVFPQ” locale=”US” tag=”granligh-20″]bottle rockets[/easyazon_link], a steel tube, a lighter and a bailing bucket, and set off to sea. We thought we’d try fishing with the bottle rockets, because they would shoot under water and explode like a mini depth charge. We got out onto the lake, and while Steve was getting the tube ready, I was getting ready to stuff a rocket in and light it. I could hear a hissing, and giggling, and when I turned to look, Joey had lit the whole bouquet of fireworks that I was holding in my hand. I threw them up in the air, not thinking that now they can fly around all willy-nilly, and they did. I started to freak out and tried to fight Joey, Steve was trying to figure out what the hell was going on, and Joe was laughing his ass off, yelling for me to “Chill, just chill”. Being from the sticks, I hadn’t heard the term “chill” before and started yelling back, “What the fuck does chill mean? We had a grand laugh, and no one lost the meat off their hand. Yet.

I guess I will sum it all up by saying that I have some really amazing friends, that I’ve accumulated over the course of my life, but Joey, you are the one I come to when the chips are down and I need to vent. You never judge me, and you always know the ways to cheer me up. (Yes one does involve guzzling a gallon of milk.) I will be proud to have you stand next to me as I get married to my best friend, and even prouder to have you choose the strippers and blow for the [easyazon_link identifier=”B00IXD2LJY” locale=”US” tag=”granligh-20″]bachelor party[/easyazon_link]. We all know that you have excellent taste in stripper flesh, and you drive a hard bargain. Cheers to you buddy, I am forever at your service.

Now back to Mrs. Birdman’s friends. Some were mutual friends, but many I hadn’t met yet. I honestly can’t think of one that I don’t like, and there are some that I just adore. There’s one lovely lady in particular, that works at a place where we pick up, and I now go in and visit whenever I’m there. Well, as long as it’s after 9:30. It’s a pretty sweet deal when you can double your friend base and also reconnect with lots of old friends that you hadn’t talked to for years. It’s also nice to have all kinds of sexy ladies stopping by for visits and whatnot. Yeah, I wish whatnot meant threesomes too, but alas, I shall have to keep dreaming. I figure that I’ve been a good person, so karma should take care of the threesome thing later, right? Seriously, before senility sets in would be nice.

[easyazon_link identifier=”B000WLVBCS” locale=”US” tag=”granligh-20″]Imma get get get get you drunk[/easyazon_link],

Birdman

 

Sep 20

Things Might Get A Little Sketchy Now

If for any reason I can’t continue Mrs. Birdman will be filling in for me. Truth is that I’ve never taken morphine before, so I have no clue what will happen next. This Tramadol stuff is quite potent, and the morphine is a backup if this doesn’t work, so yeah. I am having a hard time keeping thoughts in my head, and stringing them up. My baby is so sweet. She just brought me homemade lemonade, oh my fuck that’s sour. I think she’s trying to kill me.

Mrs.Birdman (to-be) here…Birdman has officially narc’d out on Tramadol…I’m taking over the blog-diggiddy. He may be higher than a kite, but he still has enough of his faculties left to correct my syntax and grammar. (I do love that about him!).

Now my man is pretty clever, but yesterday he must have slipped a few IQ points. He took a doctor-prescribed medication without realizing it was a narcotic. I know, I know…you are probably thinking that you know every sweet narcotic that is available. My friends, you may not be aware of Birdman’s brand new pal, Tramadol.

 

T-Doll (my newly coined street-name for Tramadol), appears to be one sweet ride. So far the Birdman has enjoyed levitation (unconfirmed), super-sonic hearing (confirmed), and some pretty outrageous saliva production. I am cautiously optimistic about the salability of T-Doll on the local street-drug market, but I reserve my final judgement, pending any negative side effects. *wink*

According to Dr. Feelgood, the Birdman should be passing that bad boy in the next 4-7 days. Our plan here at the homestead, is to keep him in a drug-induced state of euphoria and perpetual munchies until the anxiously-awaited arrival of The Glorious Kidney Stone.

I’ll keep you posted Bird-Lovers,

Mrs. Birdman (to-be)

Ps. Leave the Birdman some love on the blog, kittens! Let him know what you want to talk about 🙂

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

Susan Boyle NUDE!!!

Nah, I’m just kidding, I am a bit curious myself though. I bet she’s sporting a bush that could house a nest of fox squirrels or pack rats or something. Sounds like she’s got quite a set of lungs on her too, and we all know that that means. 😉

I’m kind of enjoying this blogging thing so far, it gives me something to do while I’m waiting around. Before this, I had to sit around pretending not to look at the receptionist’s ass and playing mindless games on the phone. I guess facebook took up a bit of time as well, but that was mostly boredom. I would just flip through, hoping to find some old girlfriend who dumped me for some hot guy that didn’t make her pay for everything or bang her sister. Then I creep her profile, hoping to find even a hint of misery. Then I’d pinch my nipples really hard as punishment for being such a spiteful douchebag.

 

I love you,
Birdman