About Me

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I love a lot. I wait a lot. I try to find a lot to laugh at. I don't usually have trouble with that. I pray a lot. I'm not always sure who or what I pray to, but I firmly believe that prayer makes a difference. I try not to panic very often. I try to learn something new every day. I spend a lot of time poking my nose into other peoples' bidness via their blogs. I clean up an awful lot of feathers. You can dress me up, but you can't really take me out. I travel a lot when I can find bird sitters and we take them with us when I can't. I drink, prolly to excess, but I rarely get sick because my body is a hostile environment to germs (or maybe no SELF RESPECTING germ would LIVE in my body?) I collect: gnomes, passport stamps, MONEY-preferably US dollars or Euros, red headed womyn and chicks named Stephanie. My Momma taught me many many years ago that girls don't fart, they foosie. She taught me lots of other chit too. Thanks for stopping by-leave me a comment and let me know you were here, feel free to link to me, or email me at jacquelynn.fortner@gmail.com

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Find the funny

Some of you may not get this, cuz it is a generational thing.  If you weren't reared on Sesame Street, it prolly won't make any sense at all.

We are currently fighting for our middle childbird's life.  He does not have a disease or mites as we had feared, he has a severe injury to his beak.  One of the other birds, probably Nemo (and probably my fault, since I put Nemo up but not the little birds the other day when I was showering, and Nemo and Ahab were scrapping through the bars of Nemo's cage when I came out of the bathroom) bit him in the beak to the point where he has a hole on each side and one side is badly bruised.  He can't use his beak to chew or grind or even really help himself climb other than kind of as a balancing tool.  I know he is suffering, and it is breaking my heart.  The vet gave us an antibiotic and some birdie Vicodin or something that seems to help a little, although it is really hard to even give it to him-it almost seems more stressful to administer than the benefit he gets from it is worth.  Don't they have birdie heroin or something that would at least ease his suffering enough to make it worth putting him through the stress of holding him down for a syringe?

In any case, you know US.  We can find humor anywhere.  We are sitting here discussing how tough all of this is, and the Innocent Bystander is talking about how the vet was all "Oh, just daub a little of this silversulfadiazine cream on the wounds after you clean them with a wet cloth and blot them dry" like you can just take a suffering, struggling little body with a can opener attached to its face and DAUB anything on it.  The IB was all "He was acting like Ahab was an inaminate...inaminate...inaminate"...(he just could NOT get it OUT!) and I piped up "beep bee pe dee deep, minaminate beep bee dee beep" and we both just lost it and started going all muppet on each other.  I think I might can (a southern expression, put the damn red pens up, Ms. Grammars) wangle a last tickle his elmo out of this one before I take him to the airport.

Ya'll have a wonderful Monday.


HappyHourSue said...

Ha! I know exactly the song you mean (is there a title?)

I spell it manamana.....doo doo doo doo dooo...manamana....doo doo doo dooo...

all the youngsters are goin' WHA?

derfina said...

*nods* and it has been stuck in my head ever since!

Plunger Girl said...

Poor baby! Don't let him die!!!!!