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Tuesday, 2 October 2012

image for My life as a man #15 If I shot up the eggs there would be fewer birds!

It's gonna be a crap day!

I don't know about you, but I can tell, from the get-go, what kind of day it's going to be as soon as I wake up.

If I wake up hearing the birds happily chirping their hearts out and I want to get up and rip their tiny asshole hearts out, it's going to be a shitty day.

If I wake up and hear the birds happily chirping their hearts out and I want to go out and feed them and chirp along with them, it only means I am a geeky sum-beech with no fucking life.

I'm going to allow you to choose how I saw this morning based upon my behaviors after I got my ass out of bed at 6:05 a-the-fuck-m.

I did not feed the chirping birds and I sure the hell didn't chirp with them either. No, I grabbed a sling-shot and a ball bearing, and snuck out the back door, and carefully made my way around the house to the front yard, where I took aim at a bird on the bird feeder that was chirping its fucking heart out.

It was a goldfinch feeding at the thistle-seed feeder. I took a deep breath, drew back the rubber and let the ball bearing go. I missed the bird, but hit and broke my neighbor's lawn jockey. The ball bearing ricocheted off the ceramic lawn jockey and flew straight through my picture window.

All in all, it was one hell of a shot!

I started cussing at the top of my voice (which is considerable loud at 6:13 a.m.)

My cursing woke up my next door neighbor Gerry, the British guy. He tried to calm me down and told me that if I hadn't hung nine different kinds of bird feeders on one tree, the birds wouldn't congregate in the yard outside my window, and they wouldn't wake me up in the early morning. Then I wouldn't feel the need to shoot at them to shut them up, and I wouldn't break out my windows, or wake him up at dawn, at least four times a week.

I admit he had a point.

Well, fuck Gerry; he has a good looking wife and no doubt gets laid at decent intervals. Plus, at neighborhood parties the women flock to him just to hear his accent.

After I calmed down a bit, I went back into the house. I decided to call an old girlfriend who lives in California. It was just after six a.m. so I figured she'd be up having coffee like me.

I was wrong; I woke up both her and her lover, both of whom cussed me out about as loudly as I had cussed the birds moments before. Apparently, when it is 6:00 a.m. in West Virginia, it is 3:00 a.m. in California.
Who knew?

Next, I checked my email in box and found 11 emails waiting. There were notes from several of my new women chat pals. That was a great change of pace. A good omen.

Things were looking up!

Only nine of the eleven were less than encouraging:

There were five "Fuck you's;"

Two "I'm reporting you to the authorities;"

One "Weren't you John from Omaha last week?"

And one "You fucked my sister, asshole!"

I didn't, regardless of what her sister claims (actually, it was her mother I screwed).

But of the two remaining, more encouraging emails:

One said, "Yeah, well, no one else has answered my ad so tell me all about it little boy," (I did!)

The last was a really sweet email from Esmeralda, my web cam date from last week. Ez says he's "sorry I thought he was taller."

I wrote Ez back"

"Well, we all make mistakes, Ez. My ad says I'm looking for a willing woman. But you know, Ez, you do have a great set of tits. If I don't find anyone else, I'll get back to you."

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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