Bird People Are Fucking Nuts!

"No the bird's name is Sue. I'm NutzyPoo.

That's my opinion. Everyone I've known who has ever "seriously"owned a bird (not talking 'bout rescuing a Finch with a broken paw, or talon, or torn off beak) -but you actually shopped for-then purchased- a God awful bird.

So buying a bird, for yourself, with intent to own and care for is, "being a bird person." Or if you tell somebody you really want a bird, and they buy it for you, and you keep said bird...Well, this also falls within the realm of being "a bird person." This is all in the dictionary I bet. I'm certain I didn't just make this shit up! I may look like one, but I assure you, I am not a veterinary psychologist ok?!

If however, you came to your senses within a week or two, and rid yourself of the bird, you are off the hook. You are not a "bird person."(I'll always secretly have some doubts about you though.)

So with the terms defined; all people I've known who owned birds, were insane. Not weird, eccentric, "oh she dyes her hair purple" insane. But clinically, undoubtedly, and most likely incurably insane.

For example, this paranoid schizophrenic bartender I knew. I made fun of her bird, and she threw a lemon at me, and forced me at knife point to apologize to her bird. Yes, there were copious amounts of alcohol involved. That just made her drunk & crazy. If she were drinking carrot juice, she would have been healthy & crazy. (Notice the crazy tag stays no matter what you put in front of it.)

So I said, "Sorry I made fun of your voice. Ok bird?"

She replied, "Gus. His name is Gus. Apologize to him by name."

So I said, "Ok. I'm very sorry your owner is a fucktard, and that your feathers are the same color as my pee after a long night of drinking and taking too many vitamins. Bye bird!"

And I took off before her pickled brain could process all those words. When I slammed the door behind me, the next sound I heard a millisecond later, was that of a kitchen knife being buried into the door frame. Then a crazy bird saying, " BWAAK . BWAAK!"

Or maybe that was her.

So here's the universe's fun way to get back at me for all the harmless shit I've done over the years that I should have made amends for but never got around to...

I will finally meet my soul mate. Whoop-de-doo!! We will hit it off like no other. She will have a Tribe tattoo on her thigh. She will have a cute toe ring, and purple nail polish. And a helicopter that will land on the roof of her mansion in Malibu, that we will share while we are carelessly unemployed.

Inside that mansion, there will be a tiny, dark room, that she secretly goes into every night. One night, I will sneak into the room. There, I will see my soulmate- hanging upside down- right next to a yellow bird that she adopted from some dead girl's sister.

The bird's name? Why Gus of course!