Bear with me, as I feel a mental wandering coming on. I promise to avoid discussing the merits (or lack thereof) of the spray and pray, or which photo here makes the best appetite suppressant. Hell, I’ll probably even skip the merits of brain lesions . . .

So, let’s focus on the important stuff, shall we? Birds. It’s hard letting go, but I am trying. I’ve let him loose, he’s come back, and I sent him back into the world yet again. Sure, I have to step out onto the deck every few hours for a feeding, but el birdo is doing quite well outside. Okay, I haven’t a clue how well he’s doing, but he hasn’t been eaten by a cat, so that’s pretty good in my book. Yes, my book is short, and mainly full of pictures.

This:

Cheepers in pinfeathers
Has become this:

Fly free, little cheepers!

He still stops by several times a day for some cat food, a mealworm and some seed. Someday he (she?) will realize that I am not a bird, though, and I will finally be free. Sniff!

So, what am I doing now? Working. And listening to Beige Curtains, by Riki Lindhome. And thanking hulu for getting rid of their rtmpe-only streams. Thank you, hulu. Now I can watch an endless stream of crap again. My life is full.

My life is great, it’s just my desk that’s a mess
Papers piled high, books lying here and there
and bird seed everywhere, I guess I should start to clean

Rhyme and rhythm and a strong urge to pee
Only one of these things describes me
(and it isn’t rhyme and it isn’t rhythm, as you can see)

It’s sunny outside and sunny inside and in the tank, my fish are dying
I should clean the filter, but I don’t
I’m full of doubt and can’t and won’t
It’s good to be me as long as you don’t think too deeply
My bird is free, flying, daughter crying, everybody smiling
at me
Crap — I think my fly’s undone!

Tomorrow I have to battle the dmv. Apparently, Idaho doesn’t believe in notifying people when their licenses expire. I discovered this while attempting to get past TSA on Friday. They prefer you to have a valid license or some form of current id when you board a plane. Rather an uptight bunch, really. Does having an expired license make you more likely to commit acts of terrorism? Or was it just my muttering of “By Allah’s will, it won’t be a problem much longer” when they pointed out the expired license?

And finally, because I seem to lack a point, here is my explanation of why we have so many Mary Kay Letourneau wannabes these days: Three O’Clock High. More evidence of how us eighties teens fucked up the world. Somehow I missed this movie when it first came out. I think I was doing something stupid like jumping out of airplanes and training to kill Ivan. Poor Ivan, just a faded memory now that we are supposed to hate Muslims rather than Russians. Le sigh . . .

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