Jul 12

Therapy Thursday

Dear Birdman: I’m trying to lose weight. I do pretty good on the working out side. But my diet is horrible. I love all the “bad food” and don’t have willpower to stay away. Help!

Patty Too Fatty


Dear Patty: Have you ever written me at the right time, friend!  I just lost 20lbs on this amazing new diet where you can eat anything you want and never get off the couch!  It’s truly changing my life.  If only I had discovered this incredible solution to my weight problem sooner!

Why the fuck wouldn’t you want to be that happy?

Now before you get your credit card out to order this miracle diet I’m hawking, let me just let you just tell you that I am a big fat liar (literally) and there is no miracle diet.  You knew that already, though, didn’t you? Continue reading
Jun 28

Therapy Thursday


Dear Smarty and Mrs. Birdman:

I have a problem. I’m a sniveling sack of goat shit. I get into these weird moods sometimes, and even when everything in my life is good, I still find something to bitch about. While these concerns seem to be valid when I have them, on further inspection they are just a pile of tears and lack of sleep. I am debating on whether or not to submit this to you because I know how mean you can get, and I just don’t think that I can handle mean right now.

I think it has to do with not working, but especially the feeling that I’ll be back on the highway soon. I realized after driving to Toronto today that I fucking hate that job. I know that you aren’t allowed to take down license plates and give cops handjobs to find out where the people live, but I was oh so tempted today. Anyhow, I am going to hit the pavement on Tuesday, and I’ll be taking whatever the first job offered to me is. I’m not concerned about how much it is, but benefits would be a huge tipping point.

So there you go. I’m a happily depressed mess, and I can’t imagine things being better than they are right now (except for a job, and possibly a speed reading course). My blog is experiencing a nice, gradual upswing in numbers, and I’m sad about losing some old friends. I guess I shouldn’t be, because I’m not writing it for those cunts, am I?

Do you have the time to listen to me whine, about nothing and everything all at once,

Birdman Continue reading

May 31

Therapy Thursday

Dear Birdman: I know you said to get something in before 5 and it’s now…midnight. But if you didn’t get any submissions, I was gonna give you one. If you did, then save it for a rainy day. And btw, I haven’t read all those posts yet so forgive me if you’ve already done one similar.

Here’s the deal:

My daughter, age 17, wants to go over to her boyfriend’s house this weekend. Not the whole weekend, just maybe Saturday or something. Her boyfriend is 20 but in many ways acts like he’s 14, albeit a very horny 14 year old. (You are going to condense this in your own words, right? Because I’m not doing my best work here.) Anyway, my daughter is sort of behind for her age (I suspect she’s high-functioning autistic) and doesn’t really go places and do things with a bunch of friends like I did at her age. She’s no longer a virgin (she lost this under her Daddy’s supervision. That didn’t sound exactly right but you know what I mean), I know this and was a little disappointed but not surprised. I was doing the mattress mambo at 16.

I’ve allowed her boyfriend to come over to the house a few times he seems harmless enough. Meaning, he’s no axe-murderer but he’s definitely not someone I’m happy about her being with. He’s working at a factory, not in college, lives with his Grandma and Uncle (whom I’ve never met) and spends his disposable income on video games and katanas.

I know I can’t keep her locked up forever but I’m having a hard time saying yes to her request because I feel it’s pretty much like serving up her vagina on a silver platter garnished with all that green shit.

you do keep these anonymous, right? Continue reading

May 24

Therapy Thursday

So here’s the thing, Birdmans:
I LOVE my job. I love going to work everyday. I learn something new every shift that I work. It is challenging and satisfying all rolled into one.My problem is, I hate my supervisor.He is a long winded blow hard. He can not give you a simple yes or no answer to a simple yes or no question. He doesn’t seem very consistant in how he deals with customers. Sometimes they get a deal, sometimes they don’t, and I am the one left holding the bag when talking to the customer. Don’t get me wrong, he knows his shit for sure but it’s almost like he uses it as weapon against others. So no one else knows it and he feels secure in his job.He keeps telling me I HAVE to take my coffee breaks at the proper time. OK. Fine. So when I do, he calls me and puts me to work on something that he neglected and now needs to be done asap. So I just don’t take breaks anymore. I surf on the interent instead of sitting in the break room.

The Big Boss knows about this guy. As the super is the only one who knows some of this shit, they don’ty feel like they can get rid of him. And I have only been here for 6 months so I don’t want to rock the boat. I am also trying to make a good impression so when raise time rolls around, I have a better chance of getting one.

So here’s my question.

How do I deal with this dick head?

Thanks for your trouble

Nattering In the North Continue reading

May 17

Therapy Thursday

Due to Mrs. Birdman being away for this Therapy Thursday, I have had to bring Smarty Pantaloons in as me, and I’m going to be the voice of reason. For those of you that are unaware of him, he is a well meaning fellow that makes bad choices in his life. You know it’s bad when I’m the straight man. This means that there will probably be more drug use and foul language than in other posts. I’m sorry, but you know how I don’t like to censor people for swearing.

Dear Birdman: I have a co-worker, we’ll call her Sunshine. She’s sweet as can be. But she’s dumber than shit. Seriously – compared to this bright one, some dogs out there are fucking Rhodes Scholars. You can tell her 50 times “don’t cross this line or you’ll die,” and she’ll forget what she’s supposed to do (or not do, in this case).

How can I keep from punching her in the goddamn throat out of frustration?

Dealing With Dummies Continue reading