A blog about BIRDS

*This blog post is dedicated to Ilana. Because she is terrified of birds. You are a prophet, Ilana. You always saw it coming. You’re the best one of us all.*

The birds have been doing some crazy stuff lately. I’m not kidding. It’s getting to be ridiculous and I would really appreciate it if they would stop because I’m starting to wonder if the Apocalypse is coming or if they are finally joining forces to kill all humans. We always knew it was a possibility. They always could have joined forces but something kept them from doing it. Some kind of pride or tribal warfare. Who knows why they have always lived alone but the point is they’re acting out now and I don’t like it.

As I said before, my friend Ilana has always seen it coming. There are two true things about Ilana. 1) She wears ridiculously cute clothes all the time and 2) she is terrified of birds. Even the mention of them freaks her out. Now, most people might think this is a weird thing to be afraid of. There are so many other things to worry about, they say. Nuclear war, terrorism, car accidents, cancer, clowns in the shower! Why spend your worry points thinking about birds? They’re so cute and little. And even if you don’t necessarily enjoy them, you can at least think they’re too ignorant and/or wrapped up in territorial disputes to be of any concern to the human population. But we have been fools! All of us! (Minus Ilana, naturally). The birds are coming and it IS NOT IN PEACE. This is not a test! THEY MEAN US HARM!

You might be casually reading this. You might chuckle softly and think, “Ah birds. They cannot harm me!”

FALSE.

How do I know?

EVIDENCE.

ITEM ONE: Today, I saw a bird flying with ITS WINGS BEHIND ITS BACK. WHAT IS THAT. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE. That bird is clearly tapping into the black arts.

ITEM TWO: There is a pigeon that lives in my complex and it is freaky as hell. It just sits there. Quietly. Patiently. It doesn’t even pretend to be alarmed when I walk up to where it’s sitting on the railing. It just looks at me. Like it knows something I don’t know. Like it was at a secret bird meeting yesterday where one of the mad bird scientists unveiled The Master Plan To Destroy All Humans.

I can tell this pigeon thinking, “I’m not afraid of you, human. For years I’ve flown away as you drew near because I thought you could hurt me. But now the tables have turned. Oh yes, the tables have turned indeed. And now I have the power! No longer will I fly away because YOU CAN’T HURT ME. THERE IS A PLAN AND I AM PART OF IT” and then it laughs eviley which to my simple human ears sounds like a soft pigeon “coo”. But I know it is sinister because I feel a chill pierce my heart.

ITEM THREE: a bird literally walked in front of my car last week. I had to swerve not to hit it. It was trying to kill me. And it did it so casually. It had so much disregard for life. Like it knew that it was part of something bigger and if it had to die in an attempt to kill just one human, it would be worth the sacrifice. I know that previously these birds have worked alone because of gang rivalries but now they are united and their sense of community and The One For The Many mentality is strong. It makes them dangerous. The wild cards of the Earth.

ITEM FOUR: I was in the gymnasium at my school the other day and there was a bird flying around the rafters. You know what this means? WE HAVE BEEN INVADED. The birds are making contact!. Showing how far they are willing to go. They are trying to unnerve us and show how easily our defenses can be penetrated by the enemy. They’re showing us how simple it is to cross the invisible line between human spaces and bird spaces. The boundary has been blurred. If we humans were to try to fight against the birds, would we even know where to shoot? Anyone could be a bird now. My mom, my neighbor, my teacher - even Ilana might be a bird in disguise! Anyone!! We can’t trust anyone now because the birds have taken over!

ITEM FIVE: A bird literally walked right up to me and looked at me. Looked at me!! Waiting for food! Well, that was it. I stood up and screamed, “NOW YOU HAVE GONE TOO FAR, BIRDS. FIRST YOU TAKE MY HUMANITY AND NOW THIS? IS NOTHING SACRED TO YOU? YOU WANT EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING! HERE. HAVE MY BREAD. HAVE IT ALL. YOU’VE ALREADY TAKEN EVERYTHING THAT MATTERS TO ME WHAT IS ONE MORE THING?? TAKE IT ALL.”

So, I’m in hiding now.

I know the birds are coming.

And when they do, I’ll be ready.

A call to arms!

Recently, my roommate Colleen's fiance's aunt sent her an email with a link to this inspirational story about medical clowning.

The aunt included this message:

Please take a few moments to become acquainted with the newest innovation that Israel is using to better the lives of sick children. It is very moving. Indeed, it is another great gift Israel is giving to the world.

That was we like to call a fiance's aunt truth bomb.

Thank you for taking the time to watch this call to arms. Remember, ask not what medical clowning can do for you, ask what you can do for medical clowning.

A niece is just a baby who is your brother's daughter.

Hi there. I know it's been awhile. What can I say? I've been busy growing out my nails and that makes typing really difficult. And let's face it: I'm lazy as trash.

Now that we've gotten through that...

Recently, my brother and his wife have successfully created a child. Actually, 9 months ago they created a child but about 10 days ago, they brought this into fruition.

I take a lot of credit for the birth being successful because I faithfully waited in the hospital to meet my niece. It was a long endeavor. You might think that my sister-in-law had to do all the work but you would be wrong. It was me. All me. And the peanuts and diet coke I got out the vending machine in the San Antonio community hospital cafeteria.

*Formal Complaint: the cafeteria is impossible to find because of rather ridiculous signage. I almost walked into the morgue 17 times in an effort to get some edible goods. Imagine the hilarious consequences if I had realized I wasn't eating food but dead human remains! Fun!

Anyway(s)

Because of my loving support and the small contribution of my sister-in-law (and even less so, my brother), into the world burst: Kiley (the niece) and life has been impossibly cute ever since. Seriously, every thing she does is so freaking cute I want to tear my arms off.

Even though Kiley is really little and hasn't managed to keep her eyes open for more than 10 minutes, she has already made a choice that concerns me deeply.

As you know, all infants are naturally endowed with an understanding of the infamous East Coast/West Coast battle that has raged on since the early days of rap and, more gruesomely, parachute pants.

Now, a typical baby will not reveal his or her understanding of this chasm until much later in life. They will "discover" Tupac and, usually depending on where they are from, they will throw down a sign that indicates their allegiance.

This moment of decision is an important "coming of age" moment for many a jr. high student.

Kiley, however, has chosen to already take sides on that matter. Being that I am a legit and loving aunt, I advised her to wait until she was older and had given each coast the opportunity to make a formal offer.

But, gosh darn it!, she is just so headstrong and was eager to make her decision known.

Thus, I introduce to you: Kiley.

West Coast 4 lifez.

V-Day is for babies and kittens. I think we all know this.

Being as it is Valentine’s Day, I have decided to reflect on love. But wait! I’m single and alone. So what should I write about? So after much reflection and…coffee…drinking, I wrote out this list. Which I have aptly titled

“Things I love Besides the Opposite Sex”

Otherwise known as, “I really have no choice”

Blue Bottle Coffee

This is a coffee that my friends from San Francisco introduced me to when I was visiting them last spring. One taste and I was in love. Madly. In Love. There are few things I love more than this seductive and smooth coffee. This coffee listens to me. It tells me I look pretty when I’ve just woken up. It helps me make friends and get my homework done. And it does all this with class. And dignity. And caffeine.

The Snuggie

My sister Abby sent me a Snuggie to celebrate my last year of college (which has now become a last year and a half because I’m a champion, apparently) and it was love at first snuggle. I wear my Snuggie on a regular basis, sometimes without anything else on! Because when you’re wearing a blanket with arms, why bother with clothing? I mean, right??

Starbucks Via Coffee

I love Starbucks Via Coffee because I actually hate it so much. The entire concept of it really pisses me off and so I’m indebted to it because it reminds me I’m alive when my blood get pumping at the mere sight of those stupid little packets and the marketing that surrounds them. It’s kind of like my sister and her hate of Tapas restaurants (sometimes I mention tapas restaurants in her presence just to set her off on her rant about the stupidity of paying so much money for fancy snacks). Why do I hate Starbucks Via Coffee so much? I will tell you why, reader. Because the entire premise of Starbucks Via Coffee is that you carry portable coffee with you so that you never have to go without a cup of sweet delicious Starbucks coffee. That’s brilliant starbucks! But where should I get my Via packets? At this location? Or the one across the street from it? How about the one next to my grocery store? Or the one next to the bank? Or the drive thru one on the way to the grocery store and bank? Golly Starbucks, with all your locations where should I go to get my tiny packet of to-go Starbucks?? WHERE? ANSWER: YOU SUCK STARBUCKS VIA. As you can see, Starbucks Via really pisses me off. And for reminding my why I’m alive (to see the downfall of Starbucks Via), I love it besides the opposite sex.

Puppies

More than babies, for sure.

Watching “That’s So Raven” while working out.

I don’t think this needs an explanation.

To finish this off, I leave you with a quote from my life coach, Elizabeth Lemon, who says,

“Happy Valentine’s Day No One!”

Dear Abby: Is my muffin top all that whole grain low fat??

Readership,

Once again, my sister Abby has taken over my mind grapes and has contributed to this blog. Here she is responding to an email sent to her from an eager fan of her tight abs.

Enjoy.

Dear Abby,

Hi! I’m a young person who has resolved to get into working out this year! I know that working out is the equivalent of sliding down a banister of broken glass and landing in a pool of lemon juice but somehow you work up the gumption to do it on the daily!

How can I be more like you?

 

Sincerely,

Jared (of Subway)

 

 

Dear Fattie (not your name I know, but I am going to call you that)

 

Thanks for writing; not like I have anything better to do than respond. But last I checked, my Facebook profile still said “Single”, so I guess I have some spare time.  Want to work out more? Let me tell you, it is a dangerous world out there for those trying to be fit or - lets be honest - burn off those cookies I shoved in my face last night while watching Project Runway.

THE HUNT

To begin, you must find a place where this cursed experience will occur. You may think that this is the easiest part considering all the gyms out there. Well this might be why you’re a fool with a BMI of 54. There is a huge distinction that exists in the world of exercise and that is the distinction between a Sports Club and a Gym. To begin, Sports Clubs are where your parents are members. They cost $YourFirstBorn a year and you can’t afford it. You will most likely end up at a Gym until you turn 40 or marry a wealthy Sugar Daddy (my personal life goal) Sports Clubs are where the elite suburban bourgeois shed their pounds in order to fit into their three-piece suits and cocktail dresses.

 

Now, I don’t know you. But if you are reading a blog, chances are that your income and standard of living just don’t make you Sports Club material.

 

Let me help you differentiate with a few obvious examples:

Sports Clubs have names like “Sport & Health” or “LiveWell Health Club”. Gyms dumb it down for the lower classes and keep it at one-word names such as “Results” and “Crunch” or with an exclamation point such as “Tough and Lean!” 

Sports Clubs resemble your dentist office while your Gym is a former hollowed-out warehouse.

The guy at the front desk of a Sports Club is a polo-shirt clad fellow named Trevor. Conversely, Krystal checks you in at the Gym while talking on her Boost Mobile phone.

Sports Clubs have a Day Spa named Serenity or Solace, and your Gym is next to SolarXXX tanning salon.

Sports Club parking lots are filled with Volvos and Lexus SUVs. Gyms have 1998 Honda Civic hatchbacks and Mazda Pick-ups with bumper stickers.

You MUST know this distinction. Otherwise, that blonde yuppie giving you a tour of the Sports Club will send you back to the Taco Bell where you came from.

THE KILL

Once you choose your place to exercise, you now have to get dressed. (Lord willing) Imagine my surprise when I showed up at my new Gym in my old First Baptist Church 2002 Choir Tour T-shirt and the shorts I slept in last night, only to be met with stares of “OMG. Did she just get hit by the bus that she had to take to get here?” Little did I know that unless your muscles are bursting from your UnderArmor skintight top (boy) or your lovely lady hump is painted in black spandex with a teal Nike sports bra (girl or gay), you are woefully under-dressed. Workout attire is a fashion statement in itself and let me tell you, these girls treat their treadmill like their own Victoria Secret fashion show. Congratulations girls, you haven’t been pregnant yet. Thank you for showing me.

Now that you have squeezed your muffin top into a hot pink and black Adidas running outfit, what do you do now? You have two options.

First, you could get on a machine. If you are painfully awkward like myself, this is your best option because it assures that you don’t have to speak to anyone for at least a half-hour. Reading material may present a problem, but do not be alarmed. It took me a while to figure out that NOBODY judges you if you pull out an US Weekly. If someone is reading The Economist or Wine Spectator on a treadmill, that is their problem. They can answer to Satan at hell’s door for being such a douche. I can read about the currency crisis in Zimbabwe some other time. Now is the time to find out how Brangelina is handing the midnight text messages from a pregnant Jennifer Aniston.

 

Your second option is taking a group exercise class. For the love, please take this advice: DO NOT TAKE YOGA. It is a waste of your time as your entire workout is ruined by a) attempting to stay awake in a dark room with Enya music playing, or b) clenching your butt cheeks together trying desperately not to break wind in the face of the Anthropology professor next to you.

You could take an aerobics class. (Please Note: If you are male, do not do this. Go grunt away at the weights with the rest of the ‘roid ragers.) For females, this is an acceptable option and you can be assured of maximum confidence building as you surrounded by suburban moms with 1994 hairstyles and T-shirts down to their knees. With company such as this, you are Homecoming Queen.

However, do not be shocked if the aerobics instructor only speaks to you in the lyrics of the songs playing. That is how they connect with and encourage you, while you desperately try to dance like Beyonce.

“Really,Trisha? You REALLY think I am bringing sexy back? Why thank you! I thought this sweat soaked shirt and my dry heaving in the corner was not sexy at all!”

“Holly, how kind of you to say! When I tripped earlier and fell, I didn’t realize that it was G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S.”

With all these mind games, I sometimes just want to straight up leave the gym-sports-club-whatever and sit in front of my TV and watch E!News with a jar of peanut butter.

But who am I kidding? Once my Old Navy jeans are the only ones that fit anymore, I’ll be begging for them to take me back.

Love Always,

Abby

Photograph: The Translation

Look, I think we all understand that its not only rappers who have a hard time articulating the true message of their songs. It can happen to anyone! Especially people with crap voices. Because then, not only do you struggle to understand what the words means, you also have no idea what the word is in the first place! So, in an effort to help out Nickelback spread their message further and to aid you, dear reader, in your pursuit of high culture and sophistication, I present you with “Photograph: The Translation and Commentary”. But first, a picture of the band:

Looking good, boys.

"Photograph"

Look at this photograph

Everytime I do it makes me laugh

How did our eyes get so red

And what the hell is on Joey's head

Look at this snapshot.

Whenever I see it, I have to laugh

Because clearly we were high

And that’s funny, right?

Look at Joey! What a beautiful broseph name!

He is high and so putting that bag on his head seems witty.

Now, I just laugh at his expense.

And this is where I grew up

I think the present owner fixed it up

I never knew we'd ever went without

The second floor is hard for sneaking out

This is where I was raised to be a bro

It’s amazing what a steady income will do to a crap house like this

I didn’t get the truck I wanted right away. Also, food.

I snuck out as a youth. Isn’t that just so classic?

Ah wasted youth!

And this is where I went to school

Most of the time had better things to do

Criminal record says I broke in twice

I must have done it half a dozen times

This is where I was educated

However, I usually didn’t go when school was in session

Once it was locked, however, I was more than willing to go there.

When I say criminal record, I think we all know I mean badass record.

And that badass record doesn’t even do justice to what kind of BA I really am.

I wonder if it's too late

Should i go back and try to graduate

Life's better now than it was back then

If I was them I wouldn't let me in

Because I was so talented, I didn’t bother graduating from high school.

I wonder if I should try now.

I liked Billy Madison. Maybe it’s like that!

However, I am one fourth of a wildly popular bro band so I probably shouldn’t re-enter highschool.

Besides, I’m so BA the school probably couldn’t handle me.

I mean, I couldn’t handle me if I wasn’t me.

Try that on for size.

Oh, oh, oh

Oh, god, I

If I hadn’t done so many drugs, I might be able to complete my sentences.

I might be…

Every memory of looking out the back door

I had the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor

It's hard to say it, time to say it

Goodbye, goodbye.

Every memory of walking out the front door

I found the photo of the friend that I was looking for

It's hard to say it, time to say it

Goodbye, goodbye.

I remember looking out the backdoor? I think?

Like a mom who scrapbooks, I have photo albums all over my pure gold floor

It’s hard to say this because really, reliving my BA years as an up and coming broseph

was so beautiful but

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

I also have memories of walking out my front door? I think?

Ah! Here is picture of Joey!

I’m just going to tuck that under my pillow…

I must say it,

Goodbye

Goodbye

Remember the old arcade

Blew every dollar that we ever made

The cops hated us hangin' out

They say somebody went and burned it down

You might be wondered how I honed my incredible talent

Here is a picture of an arcade

I was irresponsible with money, even as a young boy.

Isn’t that hilarious?

Also, police officers didn’t like me being there

Because I was such a BA

Even as a youth.

Someone burned down that arcade.

Because my entire city is BA.

We used to listen to the radio

And sing along with every song we know

We said someday we'd find out how it feels

To sing to more than just the steering wheel

This might be hard to imagine for you, but I used to listen to the radio.

That’s how real I was.

I also knew the words to some songs.

Which is why I think I have perfect pitch.

My friends and I would always talk about how it would feel

To sing to other people.

Subject them to the torture of my stupid voice.

I am an idiot.

Kim's the first girl I kissed

I was so nervous that I nearly missed

She's had a couple of kids since then

I haven't seen her since god knows when

The first girl I ever kissed was named Kim

Classic brosephina name.

I was so nervous, and high, that I almost kissed Joey who was right next to her.

How gross would that have been?

I would not have enjoyed that…

Kim got married to a guy who owns a motorcycle store.

She also gave birth to two kids with names like Devon and Addison

I haven’t seen her in a while because I’m way too BA for her

Oh, oh, oh

Oh, god, I

I have no idea.

I miss that town

I miss the faces

You can't erase

You can't replace it

I miss it now

I can't believe it

So hard to stay

Too hard to leave it

I can’t make decisions. Also, I don’t understand that you can have memories and that doesn’t mean you have to live in your same town.

If I could I relive those days

I know the one thing that would never change

I would still be brosephs with Joey. No homo.

Every memory of looking out the back door

I had the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor

It's hard to say it, time to say it

Goodbye, goodbye.

Every memory of walking out the front door

I found the photo of the friend that I was looking for

It's hard to say it, time to say it

Goodbye, goodbye.

Look at this photograph

Everytime I do it makes me laugh

Everytime I do it makes me...

You’re wondering what I was going to say.

But wonder on, wonderer, because I am THAT BA.

FINIS