Sitting at Dominick's trying not to do anything.

Sometimes you want to do anything but what you're supposed to be doing.
I have to pee. I'm not going to do it. I can hold it for years. A lot of people think I'm overweight. I won't be if I ever pee. Just watch. I assume I'll just fly around the bathroom like a balloon that just sprung a leak.
I also need to eat. But I'd rather not. It just makes me mad. I don't really like food. I just like eating. But as soon as I realized that, I started not to enjoy eating either. Don't get me wrong. I'm not anorexic. If I was anorexic, I would be the worst anorexic you've ever tried to pick up and and carry to an Old Country Buffet. I just eat instead of washing dishes or cleaning or showering or calling loved ones. I don't particularly enjoy most occasions when I eat. It's just that eating is a little seratonin bump that isn't as scary as actually doing something important.
Besides, if I eat, I'm just going to have to go to the bathroom sooner than I wanted to. (If you ever hear of a man exploding in downtown Chicago without any explosives being present, you know what happened. I waited too long to go to the restroom.)
I've heard the expression, "Do one thing every day that scares you." Well, earlier today I ate a green bean. That should do it.
Well, look out everybody. I just heard a creaking sound from the stretch marks on my stomach. I think this could be trouble.
Later.

Found out my lungs don't work...

Went to the doctor and found out that I was operating a pair of 84 year old lungs. I don't even smoke. At least not the last time I checked. Sometimes it smells like I'm burning but I don't think I was actually emitting fumes or clouds of any kind. I did once on an elevator, now that I think of it. But I blamed it on a deaf kid standing next to me. Everybody yelled at him but he didn't care. I promise I wouldn't have blamed him if I knew it would've gotten back to him.
Anyway, I was sick so I went to the doctor and he told me I was sick.
I walked there...with my lungs operating at %50...according to the machine they hooked me up to. My blood pressure was good. Which troubled me because as short of breath as I was, I should have had blood pressure like I was working out. But my body doesn't know what that is, so I can't blame it for not putting too much pressure on itself.
The doctor gave me medicine. An inhaler, antibiotics and a steroid. There was some discussion that I might feel kind of "up" and "focused".
Today, I build a bomb shelter from pieces of discarded thermometers I found throughout the expansive park district properties here in Chicago. Then I dragged it home from the far southside, right next to monument to Bad Bad Leroy Brown. It took a couple hours but I kept my energy up by collecting my steroid infused sweat and inhaling it and then injecting the inhaler right into my head.
Anyway, I feel better and I had time left over to post this blog.
Love,
Me.

Happy Christmas to people

I haven't blogged in a while. I probably won't blog for a while. You haven't read a blog from me in a while have you? Well there's proof and precedent.
I look forward to seeing all the people who might read this. Maybe I'll be right behind you looking over your shoulder when you read this. Maybe I'll be in your car while you're reading this on your i-phone or maybe you have a full sized, desk top "car computer" like the old car phones that became the communication chips we all have in our heads. Maybe I'll be in your head reading the walls where all your thoughts are written.
At this time, my blog is written on your brain walls. Watch out. You don't want what I got in there.
But it's Christmas so here's a positive thought:
Birds are nice.
Here's another one:
Families are nice.
One more:
Friends are great.
A bonus good thought:
Merry Christmas.

Hello friends and family

Hey. I just wanted to let you all know that in the future, when and if I post on this blog, those of you who got the e-mail leading you to this blog will be getting e-mails leading you to this blog. Because I like to blog. And it's nice to have an audience. I don't care if you reply or comment or anything. I just wanted you to know why you'll be getting these updates. For no reason other than to know about my current brains.
Love...

Zorro's going to the avian vet.

More eggs. And probably one more tonight.
We're taking her to the vet tomorrow.

Zorro laid an egg.

I'm blogging right now to tell you that you really need to have your pet birds sexed at the vet if they aren't birds with obvious sexual markers...like budgies with the purple cere for boys and brown for girls...or the eclectus where the male is red and the female is green.
See, as many of you may know, I have 6 birds. One is a lovebird named Zorro. He was given to us by a friend who could no longer take care of him. At least that's what she said. I'm not questioning whether she could take care of Zorro. She was sick and we were glad to take over the responsibilities and invite the little bird into our little aviary. I just think it's funny that she had the bird for 7 years and assumed Zorro was a boy.
Well, he's not. He's a she. She laid an egg the other day. And one of our parakeets is the daddy of that non-viable egg.
I'm assuming this parrot on my left hand is a boy and the one on my head is a girl. But I don't know. You know why? Because I only have tri-chromic vision. Birds see extra colors and it's those extra colors that reveal the sex to each other.
Where's the funny in this blog? I wrote it in ultra-violet. Parrots are falling out of the sky with laughter.

The hidden secret blog.

This is a blog that is a secret. You'll never know it's here. I laid low for a long time and now, right when you thought I wasn't going to blog anymore, I'm back. It's like a hidden track at the end of a cd. Except nobody uses cd's anymore. It's all mp3's now. Or there are some people going backwards to more reliable modes of recording and playback like training an old cat to repeat stuff you say. Then while the cat is repeating it, you use a laser pointer pointed at the shell of a nearby turtle and the cat takes care of the percussion as well.
This blog is like that.
I am outside because I live in the future where you can be outside and be on the internet and no one even looks at you funny. By the way, the future officially started on April 3, 2008. So before that was the present. Now is later and the future is the distant future now with deference to the ancient past which is gone but not forgotten unless they didn't have writing back then. Or you could check a really old turtle pounding cat for some more detailed information.
I just wanted to let you who sought out and found this hidden track blog entry that you win.
That's it.
You win.
I hope you're satisfied.
I hope that makes your day.
You are a winner.
And what do you win?
An inside tip:
I will start another blog soon.
And it will start another blog even sooner.
And then later when the present/future boundaries are squared away, there will be an exponential growth in the amount of blogs that I will create.
One will be called, "Watch out Mavis!" It will be very specific to a woman named Mavis. Maybe a lot of you won't want to read that one because it's really just for Mavis.
The next one will be called, "Absolutely!" where I just whole-heartedly agree with everything that I say.
Later, a blog will be called, "I'm in the future but I still can't find my keys." Self-explanatory. In fact, that blog will constantly be explaining itself.
If any of you would like a transcript of these blogs, you should repeat them aloud to a speech to text translating computer program and have it print it out for you to have delivered at a future time.
And there you have it.
You've been moved and shaken and the next time we talk, I'll tell you what else you were.
Thanks for being the guy or lady who read this.