Monday, July 17, 2006
On Friday the countops were finally towed in by two very nice men who I refer to as stinky old guy and nice young fella. Stinky old guy was friendly as could be. However, he was in dire need of a good underarm scubbing.

None of that is pertinent and I'm slammed over here so on I go.

Mid-way thru Stinky guy tells Bob and I, "You prob'ly oughta move your bird outside. This stuff here we're fixin to use kills birds in just a few hours. We killed 4 last month."

For the briefest of moments, Bob and I looked at each other, eyes aglow with unspoken thoughts of a Webster-free future and grinned. But just as quickly we realized allowing the nasty little snit to die from chemical fumes on purpose was probably wrong on some level and neither of us deal well with guilt.

Friday in Ohio it was 83 degrees and the humidity was through the roof. The air was so thick your could almost snatch it up in your hands.

I wheeled Webster out of the sunroom onto the patio. Which should have been ok. He is an animal, right? Only problem, nobody ever told Webster his people are from Africa and bear feathers. He doesn't much care for the title, "animal".

So out there he sat, eyeball pressed up against the bars, looking in at me. The whole time he's shouting, "HERE HERE HERE HERE HERE!" (this is the Webster equvalent of a servant bell. He commands, I respond.) right.

I ignored him. After a while ...... his feathers slicked back, his pupils became tiny pinpoints, and he began a guttorial mumbling only he and possibly Satin could understand. One of the fellas who was working near an open kitchen window yelled to his partner, "Do birds get mad?"

Just then an innocent Butterfly flew through the bars in Webster's cage. Webster lunged at the poor little thing like the creature from that movie Alien.

"Did you see that!" The other fella yelled back to his friend, chuckling. (easy for him. He doesn't have to live with the feathered demon)

The butterfly escaped. Flew back in. This time Webster lunged at the little bugger so hard he fell off his perch and landed on the floor of the cage with tremendous THUD!

As he climbed back up the bars you could clearly hear him out there growling in tongues. (the bad kind)
"RATTZA RITTZA NUMG MUCK. IG GUG GUG GUG. NYCK."

I am not getting anywhere near him, I thought. When it's time to bring him back, Bob can do it.

And that's when I heard the thunder. That's right. In the middle of Webster's hissy fit, the sky grew black, the wind began to tear leaves and small branches off the trees and thunder boomed.

Under my breath as I headed out to "try" and bring him in out of the now pounding rain, all I could say was, "oh fuck me. He's gonna eat the fingers right offa my hands."

I ended up soaking wet and having to call Bob to leave his work and help carry the cage.

It's Monday. And the bird is still pissed off. Ask the dog. HE was stupid enough to go over to the cage and stick his tongue in to lick up a fallen popcorn last night. Now he has a hole in his tongue the size of Arkansas.

sigh. My life is such a freak show.
 
posted by Crabby at 7:12 AM |


18 Comments:


At 7/17/2006 9:30 AM, Blogger Unknown

HAHA hysterical!!
Poor bird having to put up with all of that agro :p
Umm err what are countops??

Bytheway you have this post in twice. NOW who is the dumb bird ;)

 

At 7/17/2006 9:43 AM, Blogger MilkMaid

BWaaaaahahahahahahahahahaha...

You are such a PUSS, crying about 83 degrees..and the humidity

Poor Webby.

 

At 7/17/2006 10:00 AM, Anonymous Anonymous

Barman

said...

Oh pick me, pick me! I know the answer. Pick me.

It is Spawn of Hell. And not just Webster but those birds in general. In your case, however, Webster is epecially qualified for the job.

By the way, I had no idea Webster spoke Latin.

My friends bird used to always call their dog but then would shut up when the dog showed up. I guess mischievies but not pure evil.

Your life is just way to fun, thanks for sharing and no I do not want a bird. Oh and congratulations about betting the couter tops in. It sure makes things look wounderful.

 

At 7/17/2006 10:04 AM, Blogger Crabby

I copied barman's post below and reposted it for him. LOL! He's not anonymous.

I don't know how he did it. But somehow that sly fox, Gareth has gotten behind my magic curtain and double posted me. Cause we all know I'm not that dumb.

Milky, it mighta been 84. Maybe even 85. Or 90. It was hot! You know what? I bet it was close to 100.

I am not either a Puss! I'm a manly girl! Plebbt!

 

At 7/17/2006 10:26 AM, Blogger barman

I cut the lawn on Saturday. Now the day only got to be 91. It was not so much the temperature as it was how intense the sun was. I had to try and get the mower restarted part way through and, when I sat in the shade to do that, it felt great. So as far as the temp goes, it was the sun itself that was making it terrible.

Thanks for the copy job.

Oh by the way, Milkmaid sounds like she wants your bird.

Gareth, assuming you are being serious I think Crabs meant counter tops.

I'll go away now.

 

At 7/17/2006 12:30 PM, Blogger Spoony Quine

` Now that I think about it, I think that bird might have been one of my escaped subjects. No wonder he's so pissed.
` God, your dogs are RETARDED!!

` Ah climate! This is why I like Eastern Washington - it rarely gets 83 degrees (or below 50) but when it does, there's usually not much humidity. Also, there's generally a breeze from the ocean.
` I know someone whose parrot would confuse their dog by calling it "DARTH! HERE, DARTH!" And the first time the dog saw this he was really confused.

` Also, I was once at someone's house who had two parrots - both mentally ill. Well, one of them actually liked me but took two chunks out of my mom!
` Once, he grabbed for my finger with his foot and I let him have it... then he started licking it! Then he licked all my other fingers, and toes, and swung upside-down from them!
` As soon as my mom came in the room, he started biting down on me.

 

At 7/17/2006 12:31 PM, Blogger Crabby

Gareth, you dog! I didn't even catch the countops dig. You are sooo gonna get it. C'mere, Gareth. I won't hurt ya. Honest. snicker snicker snicker.

Barman, we had warnings out for old folks and little kids because the humidity was so heavy that anybody with allergies or lung problems were at risk. It's 91 today but the humidity has dropped so it doesn't feel so bad. Good thing too since I have to sand cabinets outside and prime. YUK! Oh and fill in my pond. Double yuk!

Tina, we live across the street from the Scioto river and we took long walks over there the other day. It was really nice because hardly anyone goes down there. It was good thing to do, just to walk away from all the work we have going on here right now for a little bit.

I'll post pics at the Design board soon as I can. I'm knee deep in work right now. If I get all this done and can still stand I'm gonna be soooo tickled with myself. LOL!

 

At 7/17/2006 12:58 PM, Blogger Suze

Crabby, I'm surprised you haven't taught your grey to swear. Over here that is what most people tend to do as they have the clearest speach of all.

It could have told the workmen exactly where to get off and then probably not been so mad. :D

 

At 7/17/2006 1:16 PM, Blogger Tumbleweed

I need a scubbing....come scub me!!

 

At 7/17/2006 1:25 PM, Blogger Unknown

No honestly I didn't know what countops was :/ You Americans and your shortening of words. Have you no respect for the English language. HAHA LOL!

I'm still going to get it though, right?? Please please with cherries on top! ;)

 

At 7/17/2006 1:55 PM, Blogger Crabby

Tina, I am an excellent squatter. LOL! Mostly, cause my knees appear to have stuck that way after working on the tile. I may never stand straight again.

Suze, he DOES! Like a freakin sailor. And it gets me in lots of trouble with Bob because he clearly says the "f" word in my voice. I promised I'd quit using it but sadly, every now and then, something happens and it's a bad habit of mine to say, "oh fuck me!"

Tumble, you know I'll scub ya anytime. LOL!

Gareth! You are so bad. I think I may have to call the girls together to help me with you.

 

At 7/17/2006 2:47 PM, Blogger SignGurl

That bird has a bigger cage than I do!

 

At 7/17/2006 3:56 PM, Blogger Crabby

Sign? You have your own cage? do you dance in it? That's soooo kewl!

Denny, will they take him away from me? :) :) : ) WOOOT!

 

At 7/17/2006 4:23 PM, Anonymous Anonymous

It reached a hundred here today, with drippy humidity.

WHIIIIINE whine whine, cry cry cry, burp.

 

At 7/17/2006 5:42 PM, Blogger Zen Wizard

Old guys have never been introduced to Axe Bodyspray.

Young guys have never seen "The Birds" by Hitchcock, so they ask annoying questions like, "Do birds get mad?"

Women of the world would be well advised to stick to middle-aged guys like Zen Wizard--who spans the wisdom of both generations.

Now if I could just get the word out...with my twenty page visitors a day, I am working on that, slowly...

 

At 7/17/2006 7:24 PM, Blogger jamwall

and while crabcake wrestles with the rabid bird, marlin perkins will enjoy a cocktail in the back of his limo.

 

At 7/18/2006 5:31 AM, Blogger Crabby

Seequin! How'd you slip in up there. ahhhhhhhhh ah ha ha ha ha ha! Webster never bites Bob. Ever. Bob can scratch his head and do all kinds of things and the bird goes all ga ga for him. Anybody else gets nailed.

Puss puss, a 100? Where do you live? I hate the drippy humidity stuff. It's torture. We're 73 today. Much much better.

Zen, they'd do well to stick with middle aged women too cuz .... we know stuff. Lots of stuff. Course we get gas when we eat or drink water but, we know stuff.

Marlin needs to get his ass outa that car and share whatever it is he's got cuz Crabby is in need of sustanence.

I so gotta get coffee now. I wish I could just wake up with a coffee drip in my mouth. It would make life so much easier and save me lots of stubbed toes.

 

At 2/07/2007 3:58 PM, Anonymous Anonymous

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