Friday, June 09, 2006

Bird Fever

I hate bloody birds.
They are evil and crazy and have it in for me.

I am currently at a friend’s house, curled up on a giant bean bag wanna-be, (a stylish new Love Sac) spending too much time on various web pages, and munching on a healthy snack of chips and salsa.

The chips and salsa become an integral part of this story.
So does the Love Sac.

This house is not what you would call a normal home. It is the home to one of my best friends, her husband (who is now in Iraq), a boa constrictor named Lucifer, a second snake slightly smaller whose name I have no clue of, a wiggly puppy going by the name Timmy, and a damn cockatiel, Stoner.

Now, all day, several hours at least, I have been doing my thing. Watching Numb3rs, surfing, nodding off, and contemplating the meaning of the word “martini”.
Lucifer has been doing his thing. Lying silently and motionless in his well-lit box.
John Doe snake has been doing his thing. Slithering around and being creepy.
Timmy has been doing his thing. Wiggling on the couch, wiggling on the floor, chewing my toes, and licking his nether regions.
And Stoner has been doing his thing. Being a damn bird, potentially carrying the Avian Flu, and sharpening his beak for his planned assault on my right eyeball. (I have seen him giving me evil glares, menacingly stalking my right ocular cavity.)

Everything was calm in the Sorell Zoo until I made the mistake of opening that fateful bag of chips.
At first chomp all hell broke loose.

The snakes are not included in the hell. They, lacking ears and a taste for spice and salt, did not care about my evening snack.

Timmy, however, was magically at my side, staring at me with those dewy eyes and a tail wagging past the speed of sound.
That was cute and easy to ignore.

Stoner, however, went into a tizzy. Flying around my head, landing on the table, glaring from the top of the snakes box, balancing on my coke bottle, and perching on my shoulders.
The fluttering of angry wings beat around me.

At first I stared, started, hid my right eye from imminent attack.
Then I decided that the best coarse of action was to completely ignore the flying minion of Satan.
But what actually happened was far worse than a gaping hole in the head.

The bird landed on the top of the slick and shiny Love Sac where I was so happily reclining. It was then that I sat up to dip a chip.

My movement disrupted Stoner’s precarious perch. He began to slide.

Here would be a good moment to mention that my pants are a bit loose. When I move or wiggle, or lay perfectly still, they have a habit of moving like slip and slide, making me resemble a plumber.
The act of constant reaching and dipping had made my pants the lowest of low riders. And since I was stuffing my face I was much too lazy and preoccupied to pull up my drawers.

So, the bird began to slide.

He slipped and skwaked, heading strait toward the indention made by my nearly naked arse.

I bet you can guess where this he heading.

Before I could react, the tiny demon beak hit me directly in the crack.

I flew from the bag.
So did the bird.

He head strait for his cage where he sat dazed, confused, stunned, and a little distressed.

I put the chips away. There is something about a beak in the ass that makes you re-think your diet.

It sounds like you are having a Ted,Katy,bubba,Maggie,blackie,Kitty Kat,Baby Cat, and Lilly moment. You never really liked animals: did you? Heh,Heh,heh. I do hope you are enjoying your summer. I am.
if you're not nicer to me, i'll train the wiggly dog to lick you to death next time you're here. :-)
Don't do it!
i'll be super nice to you!
PLease don't train "Sir Wiggles Alot" to lickk me until i breath no more!
Hello Jody,
My name is Doctor Hineekisser,
I have just finished reading your excerpts from June 9, 2006. As I read your comments, my attention kept coming back to the Bird. From your own words it is apparent that you do not like birds. In fact "You hate birds". Jody, hate is a very strong word expressing feelings from deep within your soul. If you dig deep into your soul, I think you will find that it is not a hatred for birds, it is a fear of birds.

Remember, you are only born with two fears: The fear of falling and the fear of loud noises. All other fears are "Learned fears". Most likely you "learned" this fear of birds at a young age. Most likely, you developed this fear from listening to a parent who had a fear of birds. Most likely, your Mother.

Dig back, way back....think "Why do I fear birds?"....Where did this fear of the flying creatures of God come fffrom?",,,,relax Jody,,,relax...think deep....deeper Jody.....deeper......hmmmmmmmmbmmmmm

Mother Screams: "Jody, stay away from those birds! Stop feeding them! If you do they will enter your bedroom while your are sleeping and peck out your eyes while you sleep. When you awake you will be walking around in the darkness, you hear a loud CHIRP above you then, Plop, you feel a warm moist blob on your head. Yes Jody, that warm, moist plop is all that remains from your eyes pecked from your face by evil birds while you slept.

Jody, if you look back far enough into your past, you will find that you really fear nothing. You will remember those words of your mother "Damn Birds, I hate them, all they do is crap all over the place and make noise." You probvably heard this phrase over and over as a young child from your raging mother. A mother obsessed herself, with one deep fear, a fear taught to her by "Gramma", when she was very, very young.....
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