Mornings and Linky-Love

Mom? Be warned. I'm about to say things here I wouldn't say in front of you. I love you. Think of kittens.

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Last night, I think I came closer than I've ever come to discharging a firearm within city limits.

Fuckin birds...

I was minding my own business, asleep, at around 0300 when some bird's biological clock got all out-of-whack. He - I'm assuming it's a he; I like to think female birds aren't that stupid, much like I think female humans aren't as dumb as male humans - felt appropriate at that early hour, when the sun was nowhere to be found, to start singing his rendition of the timeless classic, "I'm Awake At 3 In The Morning So Everyone Else Must Be, Too!" Unfortunately, despite his obvious passion to the words in that song and nearly to his demise, no one else was actually awake.

At least not when he started.

I lay there for a couple minutes thinking that, at any moment, this moron would sober up enough to realize that is was, in fact, still fucking nighttime and shut the fuck up. This did not occur after said couple of minutes. Five minutes later, when I had shifted towards getting used to it and falling asleep, he was still going. Ten minutes after that, when I was filling my heart with the blackest hate imaginable in preparation for the most violence any bird in any dimension has ever seen, the stupid bird was still singing away.

I have guns. Lots and lots of guns. I have a wee little revolver for engaging targets at sexual distances. I have battle rifles for engaging targets too far away to shout at and be heard. I do not, however, have anything of the .177 caliber air-powered variety. This may be changing soon, because if that fucking bird comes back for another round of that shit tonight, I'm gonna kill that motherfucker graveyard dead, and I'm gonna do it in such a spectacular fashion that no other bird anywhere will ever sing a song at any time other than High Noon for fear of waking me from my peaceful slumber and bringing down the coldest and most calculated violence any bird has seen since the last time a bird woke me up.

I now know exactly how this feels, only on a normal person's schedule.

And on that note, if you have never read Allie Brosh's blog, go read it now. The whole thing, from start to finish. You will notice a couple of things. First, the woman can write stuff - in a style entirely reserved for borderline psychosis - that will make you laugh in the most uncomfortable fashion imaginable. Secondly, after reading my post today (which you had to do to get to this link, which I refused to provide at the beginning of this post because you would have gone to her blog and left mine behind because hers is WAAAAAAAAYYY better) you might see some similarities between her writing style and the one I used today. That would be for a simple (to me) reason: her words hit the page like she sliced open her brain and let fall what may. I meticulously check myself as I go to make sure I don't ramble on and on, destroy the English language with terrible spelling and/or punctuation, and occasionally end up changing the entire meaning of what I say with over-revising.

I like how she writes, and I will be writing like that from time to time from now on. It actually
feels pretty good to just let it fall out of my head like that. Oh, and Allie? Just in case you make it to my little corner of the blogosphere and wonder if I'm plagiarizing you, please do not think that. Because I am a big fan, because I know exactly how you feel, and because I'm afraid of you, are all good reasons not to sick The Copyright Monster on me.



tweaker