Gifts Come In All Shapes And Sizes And Sometimes... Piles

So unfortunately, yesterday, while working in the garden with a shovel (of which I've been doing for 4 days straight... or 4 days gay), I accidentally lopped the head off of our garden Budda. It actually went rolling in the mulch...

When Will returned home from the market, I confessed, albeit reluctantly, that I had knocked the head off of the deity with a shovel. He just looked at me, grabbed the Budh-miester, his head and stormed into the house muttering, "I suppose you enjoy peeing on the Baby Jesus too."

I don't... If you're wondering. I probably would've tea-bagged one of the hot shepherds behind the manger and maybe spanked a wise man or so, but that's a story for another time...

So, Will stormed off to glue Siddhartha's head back on and I fondly remembered an incident from last week...

We have birds.

Cockatiels, to be more precise. I'm not sure if you knew that.

The small flock started out with

this asshole, Evil Betty.

He (yes, HE) was named from the villain, who also happens to be male, from the film "Kung Pow".

Will and I watched this movie years ago when we were extremely... uumm... baked and laughed our asses off. Although, you probably could've just shut the TV off and we still would've laughed as hard.

I acquired "Betty" before I was living with Will. We were dating, but I had my own place then. It was in Santa Barbara and my schedule didn't really allow for dogs, and I was jonesing for a dog.

So, I got a bird.

And I often wish I hadn't.

It's not that I don't like them. I mean, really, what's not to like? They scream really loud and are messy and shit all over the place and occasionally bite you and draw blood. Why, it's just like being married, so what's not to like?

Actually, I have a moral dilemma about humans keeping birds. They have wings to fly and what do we do? We put them in cages... (As we should our spouses.)

Granted, they usually live longer in captivity if they're well cared for, but I believe it goes along the lines of the whole quality verses quantity argument of life. If you're meant to fly, but aren't allowed, but you live twice as long, but in an environment a fraction the size of what your world would have been otherwise, what would you choose?

I mean, being alive and living are two different things, right?

So anyway, I've had this

asshole since he was a chick.

And no, he's technically not an "asshole", I know... But, he can sure act like one. Which usually is a pretty good indication that I'm not paying enough attention to him.

Hhhmmm... Could this be representative of not just birds, but our dogs and cats and maybe even our children acting out when they aren't receiving enough love and support, and maybe even adults as well?

I think that we should IMMEDIATELY start paying more attention to one another. What do you think? Are you with me??

Sorry, just thinking out-loud again and not-so-secretly planning for my days of World domination with unabashed love and compassion... and public spankings.

Okay, so... You've met Evil Betty.

Well, we've acquired a few more along the way.

We adopted two from Will's mom and renamed them;

Inglebird Humpersnip and Celine Dion. (This is not an actual picture of them, but you know, all the feathers are in the right places.) Celine Dion is a diva, yes. But, a reluctant one... He's more bark than bite... Or more chirp than peck. And Inglebird Humpersnip is actually a very sweet little bird who just wants loved.

And then, there's

Cher. And he's a total bitch. If he could turn back time (or rather, TIIIOOHHHMM, IF HE COULD TUURRNN BACK TIIIOOHHMM!", he'd do it just so he could bite me more.

Besides being loud and messy... And the whole moral dilemma (I hope we have a green house one day, where I can just let them fly around to their heart's content, until they bank off a window and snap their necks), I really do love them. Well, love might be kind of strong... But, they are extremely funny. And each one has a unique personality.

And yes, they're all fuckers. But, they're unique fuckers.

I used to take them in the shower with me and they'd all just line up on my ginormous peep and spread their wings to get wet. Thank god there was enough room on it. I probably could've fit another 50 birds with room to spare.

Actually, I did used to take Betty and Cher into the shower, and I'm not sure if I've ever seen anything so truly beautiful as these two little creatures trying to take a bath in the palms of my hands...

But, they preen one another

and try to groom us as well. As you can probably gather, our relationship with them is a love/hate kind of thing.

Well, the other day, I was preparing their food in the Kitchen and

Evil Betty was on my shoulder. Will walked in and Betty started spreading his wings in a loving gesture towards Will (he loves Will. I think he wants to tea-bag him). So, I said, "Will, give him kisses! He LOVES you. Give him kisses..."

So, Will leaned over towards Betty and my shoulder, kind of closing his eyes (big mistake) and going, "Oh, HI Betty! Hi there!" smooch, smooch, smooch. And all of a sudden, Will started gagging, but with his mouth closed and mumbling, "MMMMM!!! MMMMM!!!" And he ran to the sink freaking out, pointing at his own mouth.

I didn't know what the hell happened to him and when I looked at him, he had a pile of bird shit on his lips. He had KISSED a small pile of Betty's SHIT on my shoulder.

He proceeded to freak out over the sink, washing his mouth and face profusely, all the while screaming close-mouthed, "MMMM!!! MMMM!!!", and I thought, Sometimes god works in mysterious ways... and her gifts come in all shapes and sizes and sometimes piles... And I thanked the heavens for their sense of humor.

So, last night as Will stomped into the house with Budda's body in one hand and his severed head in the other, I conjured that recent memory of a pile of bird shit on Will's lips and thought, That's the gift that keeps on giving..., at least for awhile anyway.

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