Takin' Care of Bidness

Gah.  My coffee is off.  I forgot to put the lid on the pot so it did not fully drip through, and it tastes weak and weird. 

I got the Innocent Bystander off yesterday with no major malfunctions.  Dar and I were going to go to the outlet mall, but between her bum knee and the subfreezing temperatures, we decided to hell with that idea.  We met at Starbucks/Barnes and Nobles for a cuppa and for me to pick out some Barcelona travel guides (don't need Amsterdam books-have a million of them, and already been there twice), then went on a wild goose chase trying to find some Euros to buy.  I had to go to three different banks before I was able to trade my green, uniform bills into a mismatched stack of multicolored funny money.  And I have a beef. Who the hell actually gets the going exchange rate?  What is the forking point of reporting that the Euro is at $1.28 if you can't get them for less than $1.37?  The $10 service fee isn't enough? *shakes head*

After we drove from one end of Gulfport to the other, I talked her into going into PetSmart as I wanted to look at birdie toys and such.  I got some high calcium egg food for Ahabella and while I was looking at toys, my eyes drifted down to the bottom shelf, where I saw nesting boxes.  (This is going to generate a pissed off phone call from the IB, but... ^shrug^)  The IB and I had discussed letting her keep her eggs and sit on them so that she will quit laying, because we are up to three eggs now, counting the one that I made him bury.  She is laying an egg every two days, and I don't want her to keep it up, because it really depletes her little body of calcium and makes her vulnerable to breaks and infections.  I met up with my friend Dinky the other night, and she said she will help hand feed any babies that may result from this little experiment and will take one (she had to get rid of her companion bird after Katrina as she lost her home), although we don't even know if the eggs are fertile.  After all, we thought Ahab was a boy-Moby may well be one too.  Only time will tell.  In any case, supposedly letting her keep her eggs and sitting on them will either result in a wee clutch of little half breeds, or her losing interest in sitting after three weeks or so, in which case all we are out is the seven bucks the box cost.  She seems happy.

Now I am off to pick up El Juevo from school.  I am taking him out to lunch (Chinese, natch) then we are going to 'do' a movie, which I've tasked him with picking (brave, eh?), and then we are home for a long weekend.  His birthday is Sunday, so I also have some planning to do for that-I may smell a trip to a casino coming on.  I'm certainly feeling LUCKY!!!

Pause for the Cause

I need to take a break from the Costa Rica story to catch ya'll up on what has been going on around here as I listen to the Innocent Bystander's playlist for this, the Eve of the holiest day of football season.

There has been widespread panic in Pascagoula and Moss Point for the last few days.  Our local cable company, CableOne, has been in a dispute with their NBC feed, WPMI.  Unbeknownst to us, this dispute has been going on since their contract to renew ran out in December-they got an extension (heh-I said extension) to negotiate which was set to run out January 31st at midnight.  Not a real problem, unless you want to watch the FARKING SUPERBOWL.  Of course, by the time the news-NOT by the damn TV station in question or the asswipes at the cable company-hit our local news station, plans had already been made for parties and meals all centered around said holy event, which suddenly may not be available for our viewing pleasure.  Guess who got all bowed up over this, so that when the IB called the cable company he could barely hear for her ranting and raving and they'd better fucking this and that-ing?  *raises hand*  Oh, yes, that would be me.  

It's all good now, though.  The dispute has not been resolved, but the extension has been extended *pauses for effect*  *laughs hysterically*  *has coughing fit whilst laughing and husband mistakes this for choking and tries to Heimlich me* um?  Oh. *giggles*  Until February 4th, after which point they can take channel 15 and shove it up their ever lovin' *looks around and whispers* asses.  

SO.  The party is ON.  Shingle Mill.  Tomorrow.  5:17pm or whatever mucked up weirdassed time they've decided on for this year.  Covered dish.  So far, the menu will include collard greens, dirty rice, gumbo (for us, at least), mystery casserole, chicken wings, cornbread, assorted dips and chips and crackers and cheeses and tater salads and all kinds of fixin's, so ya'll come now, hear?

Enough of that.  Now we come to confession time.  I don't even know where to begin.

Those of you who have been with me for awhile know that I have three parrots-Nemo, my African Gray (shout out to the Fatherland), Ahab, my maroon bellied conure, and Moby, my autistic dipshit of a green cheeked conure.  None of these birds are sexually dimorphic, which means that you can't tell by looking at them what sex they are-if you want to know, you must have them either surgically sexed or DNA sexed, both of which methods involve at least some measure of pain for the bird.  As we were unwilling to put our birds through that, we have spent the last twelve years with three males as far as we were concerned.

Well, tis spring here in the South (most of the time, anyway) and the ducks are ducking and the bunnies are bunnying, and around here, the birds have been nothing short of squirrelly.  Nemo has been overly friendly, 'good morninging' me twenty to thirty times a day in varying degrees of annoyingness.  The little birds have been all chirpy and cuddly and have been shredding up paper like they have nervous conditions.  Well, guess what?  Right after I hit publish yesterday and went into the kitchen to start my roux for the gumbo, I looked over at the little bird cage and thought "I don't recall giving them a whole grape?" I hollered at the IB and asked him why he'd give them a whole one when I had already cut a couple of them up in their fruit and veggie cup, but then I looked closer and realized that little fooker wasn't green, it was WHITE.  With a smear of blood on it.  AHAB HAD A GRANDEGG!  I guess now I have to call him...er...her...Ahabella?

Now, the birds are of two different species and as responsible pet owners we could not allow this little freak of nature to develop, so I immediately asked the IB to take it outside and bury it (although it was so cute I wanted to wash it off and suck on it for awhile first) (I know.  I'm weird. ^shrug^ Why else do you come here?), which he did post haste.  Now I am consumed with guilt, for I?  Conspired to murder my own grandbird.  I am a certified birdie abortionist by association.  I am going to rot in hell!  (The IB can wrestle with his own conscience.)

Pray for me ya'll.  Pray for me hard.  Not only do I have to worry about my eternal soul, but I also have an unprecedented amount of money (for me) riding on the Superduperbowl.  What's funny though, is that as many sheets as we are on, not one single bet we made has anything to do with who wins the game (although I'm sure that will be rectified by the end of the day today).  They are all based on final scores.  With a little help from all your positive vibes, I may actually be able to at least win back SOME of what we bet.  Party on!  

All my children

Nemo is fixing to get on my last nerve. I guess because of all the attention Ahab has been getting, he has become particularly needy, and he is about to "Good morning" me to death. You have never heard so many variations on a theme, and the only difference is tone. LAWDY, this one is fooking creative with tone.

He wants me to pick him up and love him up, but I'm pressed for time. I spend a good portion of each evening with him 'on' me in one form or fashion, as he loves being rubbed and scratched and petted. The problem I'm having is that Ahab is not two feet away from me, watching EVERY. MOVE. I. MAKE. Moby is there, too, but Nemo did not put a hole in Moby's beak. Also, Moby is a dipshit. Well, maybe not so much a dipshit as he might have a slight touch of birdie autism. Either way, he seems somewhat oblivious to his surroundings most of the time, unless he's busy being a mean little jackass. Ahab, though, is so very obviously totally aware of what I am doing and what THAT BIG MEAN BIRD is doing, and I feel so dadburned guilty sitting here stroking and loving on his assailant. But if I don't, we are back to 'good morning'-loud, screechy, and seeming to come at me through a clenched beak in an accusatory tone. I don't need this sheet.

SO...I am going to see my magical mystical hairdresser Lauren, who will once more allow me to experience what it is like to have white girl hair (with no visible gray roots). When she is done performing her voodoo on my head I am going to go by my old office, where I will hopefully see my Serious Bitch for a few minutes, then will drop in on two of my former fellow call girls, and when I'm done there, will pick up my second wyfe and take her to lunch. After that, I am going to go pick El Juevo up from rehearsal and go do something with him, although I'm not yet sure what, before I take him back to Mom's. It is going to be a busy day, and the rest of the week will be just as busy-I have to get the house ready for company because Thursday I'm going to the airport in New Orleans to pick up Ronny and Jamie,

who will be here throughout the Thanksgiving holidays. I may not have the Innocent Bystander home, but I will have all of my babies and my mom and dad under one roof for turkey day. I have a lot to be thankful for!

Well, I'm off to the house to take a non-fartwater shower before I go get my hair done. Ya'll try to have some fun today. Maybe this will get a grin out of you to get you started-it did me!

Just a quickie

Attention all wyves, bitches and Purvs:  Your positions are secure.

I'm just getting ready to take Ahab to the vet.  His meds have been given, he's been munching on soggy Special K and eating a little bit of sour cream (I know-weird little fart).  We sang the Good Morning Jesus song (I miss you, IB) and have had our little talk about boogers and such.  Now I have to get my head ready to navigate Mobile and try to finger out a way to run into Fresh Market for some broccolini with the birds in the car (Moby has to go too since they share a cage).  I hate to go all the way over there and not be able to shop.

The Seawolves sucked hind tit last night.  We were pretty much slaughtered.  El Juevo was not pleased, although he was mildly amused by my...shall we say company.  I think I'm going to let that story simmer for awhile, though.  Maybe it will seem a little less...sad that way.

I will be running for the rest of the day.  When I get back from the vet, I have to take Eggbert back to school for rehearsal and will prolly do some creative spending at the mall whilst I wait for him to be done so I can take him back to Mom's.  Then it is back here until at least late Saturday, so I may actually have some TIME finally, to clean house, mow grass, finish painting the pumphouse and WRITE.

I hope you all have a loverly day.  I'm going to MAKE THE MOST out of myne! 

11:30am addendum--According to the vet, Ahab is doing remarkably well considering the extent of his injury.  He has gained 6 grams since Saturday, which is 10% of his body weight when he initially went in.  They also showed me a more effective way to hold him so that his head is immobilized so I can clean the wounds better and get the cream where it needs to be, and gave me some powdered formula that he seems to like and eats straight without having to try to syringe feed it to him, so it looks like he is out of immediate danger.  Things are looking up!