The One About the Birds Under My Bed

Category: weekleez

The One About The Birds Under My Bed
April 03, 2002

hi kids,  

ok. before i take this any further i have to warn you guys. do not rent The Musketeer.  it was terrible.  it left a greasy smear on my evening, a nasty taste in my mouth, and it left me $4 poorer.  yikes, the dialogue was so bad that not even fire could help it. and everyone knows that everything is cooler with fire. it did have some cool stunts. so if you do rent it, i suggest hitting the mute button and putting on your favorite CD, probably Cher, and just chill to the tunes. beer will also probably help.  

anyway, the weekly.  
we moved last weekend. 

we live downtown now.  in a fancy-schmancy loft apartment.  i know, it’s a shock.  i mean, we absolutely loved 711. it was such a great place what with the leaks and the non-working heat and air. 
one of my fondest memories is of a particular july and the sweltering heat and the AC not working and i got so sick from being hot that i somehow in a haze of madness crawled into the shower with all of my clothes on and turned on the cold water and just sat.  and that’s just how laura found me later on, in the shower, fully clothed and shivering like a loon.  ah, good ol’ apartment 711. and that’s just one of the ways that place tried to drive me insane/kill me.  

did i ever tell you guys about the birds?  well, see my bedroom was above the kitchen.  and the kitchen had a stove. and the stove had a vent. and the vent used to lead all the way out of the side of the apartment, because it was a vent. and that’s what vents do. but this vent had been disconnected from the stove and closed off.  from the inside. 

so, do you think they closed it off from the outside?  hmmm?  well, no. i mean, they half-assed everything else at that place, so why go to all the trouble of completely closing up a non-working vent, i mean, that just doesn’t make sense right?  

so anyway these birds built their nest in the vent, which is technically inside the apartment, which is, even more technically, (allow me to emphasize this properly) under my freakin’ bed. so these birds lived under my bed for like, 10 months out of the year. only in january and february could i declare in my old-lady-from-Poltergeist-voice, “this vent is clea-ah.”

so what’s the big deal you ask. well, i hate birds. hate ’em.  cannot stand the blankety-blanks. 
and they know that. so they chirp and sing and scream. and they start their chirping, singing, and screaming around “oh dark hundred” aka 4:30am.  and they don’t stop until 8:00pm.  i hate birds.  

so one evening around 10:30pm i was in the kitchen grabbing a drink or something when it hit me, the birds aren’t making any noise. i bet their sleeping. so i very calmly ran to the closet and grabbed the mop and started to hit the closed-up vent with the mop handle (i’m short) while screaming, “wakey, wakey!” 
unfortunately we had guests over at the time.   

and there are many other instances where 711 bested me, but at the moment i can’t think of any. i think it stole some of my memories as well as some soap, my Holy Grail DVD, and most of my pride.  

but that’s neither hither nor thither, as we now live in a new place.  a shiny place.  a glitzy, glamorous place.  a city place.   a place that, just like the other place, will probably try to kill me.  

oh don’t worry, there’s no vent-nest at this place. 
and there’s no birds either. however, there is something worse than birds, something more foul and maddening than birds, something so horribly more evil than birds that it’s probably a bird. 
pigeons.
ah hates pigeons. 
gimmie a coupla days, i’ll have some pigeon stories.  

yeah so we moved on saturday and i don’t know if you remember or not but on saturday the sky rained the rain of 1,000 rains.  and we, as well as all our stuff, got soaked and it was probably one of the most miserable experiences ever, surpassed of course only by the fountain of youth and that movie about the hobbit.   

so this new place isn’t any closer to anything i do all week long, but it is just three blocks away from a bar.  which means nothing to me seeing as how i avoid that place like the plague (unless of course, we have a gig there. and still they have to drag me in kicking and screaming) mostly because it’s like a twisted high school class reunion.

right so this new place is completely across town from where i’ve lived for the last 20 years and you know what that means.  now i gotta find different gas stations to frequent.   

on monday morning i stopped at a gas station that i had never been to in my life and there was a policeman in there and he was eating breakfast and wow.  this gas station served breakfast.  you could buy gas and breakfast.  see, that’s “city” thinkin’.  i’m living in the big time now. 
so anyway this policeman is in there and he’s staring at me as he folds his newspaper and finishes up his gas station breakfast and then he says, “your hair really is purple!” and i turn and say, “yes sir, it sure is.” and he goes on and on about how pretty my hair is.  aw shucks.  anyway he was very nice and so i offered to dye his hair purple.   

so i guess this location, albeit inconvenient as all get out, will still provide me with many stories, morons, adventures and possibly personal injury.   

on a positive note, the neighbor lady seems nice.   

next week’s epitomb: jaimie’s sleep is ripped away from her every morning at 5:50 by a disembodied voice, “Good Morning!” sheesh.  

jaimie “ah hates pigeons” pickle

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