Dogs, Ponies… Why not Chicken Play?

Why are dogs and horses popular as play animals and not birds? Chickens in particular.

I’d have a lot of fun with a little man dressed in a chicken mask. I’m less fond of pigeons but that would work too.

Once you got him into the chicken mask, consider white wings too. Likely you could find some white angel wings at a costume shop. But, adding floppy chicken feet would be a great extra – if you can find them. Still, start with the mask.

Keep in mind, the mask is likely to get hot. So give your chicken boy plenty of water to peck at.

Source: Chicken Head Mask Part Halloween Costume Theater Prop Novelty Latex Rubber Animal Head Mask Cockscomb from Lmon1986,$16.12 | DHgate.com

Blast from Your Past Meme

I was tagged by My Life is Murphy’s Law to bring a post from the past.

There are a lot of old posts to pick from. So I’m just doing a bit of randomizing and here is what you get:

October, 2004. A few months before I turned 40.

She’s so Sweet… Barf!

I’m such a nobody. One of those nice grrls everyone else pats on the head and forgets a few minutes later. “Her? Oh, yes. She was sweet. What was her name…?”

I read my writing, stuff I think of as mature, adult, advanced beyond the sweet virgin. It’s not. It is sweet and nice and reeks of budding virginess. How does one lose that? I’m sick of myself.

The more I try to be something else the more I get slapped back down. As if I’m attached to a very strong rubber band. I can’t get away from it. I don’t even think fucking a married man will make any real difference. Maybe that’s why I decided to do it. Not that I actually did. No, I didn’t chicken out or anything like that. I went, I met him. We chatted. He said I as sweet and innocent.

It’s like a disease. When do I get to become a woman? How long do I have to stay in this boring, sweet, cocoon of icky nice grrlness. What do I have to do to get rid of it?

What’s so damn wrong with me? I’m going to be 40 in December. I’m so tired of me.

Maybe I’ve just never really, completely cut the apron strings. Yet, I’ve been on my own for years. I’ve been married. I had sex, all of three times. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic. What am I waiting for?

Maybe if I robbed a bank, took up a career as a hit woman or just started working on becoming a hateful bitch… There has to be something I’ve missed along the way. What makes other women lose this sweet, innocence nice grrl garbage? There must be something I’ve missed.

How can I hate myself so much and yet think I’m the cat’s meow at the same time?

I am tagging: Internet Safety Advisor, LatteGirl, Lady Banana, Death by Children and Terry who’s blog link has run away on me.

Indie Bloggers: They Eat Children Don’t They?

Indie Blogger Challenge #14

119 Words regarding:

You get drunk and ride your friend’s Harley through an Amish apple butter store in Arthur, IL. You wake up in their barn, in overalls and ill fitting shoes wearing a goofy wide brimmed black hat/in a floor sweeping ginger dress wearing clogs and a stained frilly bonnet. The Harley is missing and there’s a barefoot nine year old kid holding a chicken standing in front of you. You try to sit up but the kid says:

“Your hair is stuck.”

My hair is glued to the barn floor with apple butter. It tastes pretty good once I remove the hay.

“So… How do I get out of here?” I ask.

“Why?” Says the kidlet.

I smile sweetly, stand up quickly – not grimacing too much as chunks of hair rip out of my head.

“They eat small children where I come from.”

He runs off, out of the barn. I turn to leave in the other direction.

Only to see his Amish Daddy standing there.

“Well, hello.” I say.

“Get to work.” He pushes a shovel into my hands. “Who eats small children?”

I start working, cause I just have nothing left to say right then. How can you top children eating?

Indie Bloggers Challenge #5

Indie Bloggers 300 words regarding:

To be mean, you shave your neighbor’s monkey. It gets a cold and dies. You get arrested for animal abuse and go to prison for three years. On your first day in jail, as you walk into general assembly, the crowd goes completely silent. They part like a wave revealing a shrunken old man who radiates a merciless, palpable evil. He looks at you and says “Finally.”

I killed the last monkey. The owners had tried to hide it as an exotic pet, monkeys had been outlawed. But I was the best monkey slayer. I tracked down that screeching shrunken hideous creature and disposed of it. Well, I shaved it first. You have to make sure it’s not just some really ugly, really small human or alien. All that genetic research has left us with some really whacked out human-like creatures.

I was sent to jail. It was a formality for killing a pet. Technically it was an animal still, the laws had not been changed yet. I was set to serve three years but the laws were all going to be rewritten the next day so I’d be out by the end of the week. I was looking forward to spending all that reward money.

I walked into prison, a crowd gave me silent homage as the last great monkey slayer. I nodded at their show of respect.

“Finally… someone got rid of that damned monkey. Bless you, now I’m free!” The old man hissed. He sunk down into the floor almost seeming to be sucked through it. His eyes rolled back in his head and he just, vanished. Melodramatic.

I kind of laughed. “Well, at least he didn’t make a mess.” Everybody snickered then. After all, he was a mean old evil minion of monkey.

We had the party then. It was deluxe. Darwin’s books were burned on gigantic bonfires. I did find one monkey hair on the pizza but I just kept it as good luck.

Best of all, we had finally won the war against the monkeys. Now, no one could deny man did not come from apes!

The next day the cult of the chicken began.

Centsless Grrl

I am back again. Took off to Newmarket for a few days. Some babysitting. Took a bag of books to the Newmarket used bookstore but they couldn’t take the non-fiction until the end of the month when they are able to get the store owner’s approval on them. That seems to happen most of the time I take books there. The paperbacks were all fine. Only a couple they chose not to accept. That was nice cause it gave me enough store credit to pick up 5 paperbacks in the Sherrilyn Kenyon series which I’ve been getting very much into.

People are coming to look at the house, with the idea of buying the whole thing not just renting the upstairs this time. So I should gussy up things and give the floor another wash. I keep putting it off. I just got home an hour ago and I’m really tired from not sleeping much and my hands are kind of shaky from not eating anything so far today. I’m going to cook up a chicken breast once the house lookers have gone through. They are due any time from 5 to 6:00 tonight.

I saw the best place for some photos tomorrow. I was walking into the stairway for the Museum subway stop, I don’t know just which street I was dropped off at though. But, there were two old houses which had all the windows boarded up in order to be heavily renovated or totally knocked down. I don’t know which. I didn’t get a really good look but I’m planning to get there tomorrow with my camera batteries fully charged. Luckily I have the bus pass for the month cause I am really out of funds otherwise.

I Wish to Order Pizza and Cake

Pizza with a nice crust (not one of those thin ones that tastes like a stick) and chicken and loads of vegetables on it. A really steaming hot pizza with mozarella cheese.

I really need to find a job… I have so many great ways to spend money it’s just nonsense to be working so hard at not spending it. Unfair to my mental health.

Now, back to that pizza. Light on the sauce and high on the gooey cheese and chunky vegetables not cooked into an unrecognizable mush of veggie-ness. Mmmmm I want to taste it now. I even know how to order it online and I even still have enough cash in my purse to pay for it when it gets here.

Of course, I’d have to actually get dressed today. I’m so lazy… I should make myself clean the floors as punishment. They do need to be cleaned. Too bad the last maid disappeared, most likely one of the dust bunnies got her. Poor kid.

Wedding Ring Zilla Grrl

I don’t exactly know why but I wore my old wedding ring when I went out today. I just went out for coffee, a Tim Horton’s pit stop to get away from cabin fever. But I picked it out of the jumble of things I have strung up hanging from my computer. It was on a string which had another ring my Mom and I found in a purse at GoodWill, also a rock (red jasper) which I bought at a Pagan shop in Newmarket. I had to cut the string to get the ring off. I don’t remember tying so many knots in it but I did use a slippery, silky string – the kind that come undone easily. I wouldn’t like to lose the ring and yet I didn’t think I’d wear it again. Still here we are… both of us lonely… blab blah… I know there’s a song like that.

So I wore the ring. Maybe I was feeling lonely. I know I’m not missing my ex and I don’t want to get back together with him. I haven’t lived a life where I want to go back and try much of anything again. Once is enough. If I can’t make it work the first time I don’t see the need to give it a second chance to blow up on me. I guess that doesn’t include everything, but a lot of things.

Anyway, I wore the ring. I think I’m just missing being married, having someone to come home to, someone to listen to when things are too silent and someone to bug when I feel like bugging someone. It’s not fair being alone all the time. I like it, some of the time. I couldn’t stand being one of those attached twins though I guess if that was all you knew you wouldn’t know anything else you only know what you’ve been living. Maybe that’s why I like being alone sometimes cause I’ve been alone a lot.

This is becoming pretty wimpy and pittiful. I just thought it was interesting about the ring. It feels really clunky on my finger. Yet I liked having it there. I haven’t taken it off yet, just for a moment or two to slide it around and take another look at that hunk of gold looking metal. My ring is a gold band with 4 itty bitty diamond chips across the front. They are so small they could be glass and I wouldn’t know. I leave it and just assume they are diamonds cause that’s what they are supposed to be.

What did you do with your ring, if you are divorced? Did you keep it, lose it or chuck it out somewhere? Maybe you had kids to give it to. I just have me. Maybe the ring was just bored tied up to my monitor for all these years. I would get bored if it had been me. Luckily I have legs to wander off.

Happy Tuesday, it’s coming. Garbage day here. I think this time I will actually bestir myself early and get the bag out in lots of time. I can’t really go out for breakfast but I could go out for coffee and just smell other people having breakfast out. That’s almost as good. Graham says the insurance money should be here before the end of the month. I will treat myself to a breakfast out then or maybe Swiss Chalet for dinner. I love the smell of that chicken though I don’t actually order it when I’m there. 😀

Chicken Dressed as Mutton

I know I’m not really human now. If I were human, rather than alien or robot or… something, I would be bursting open at the seams by now. I was really hungry, I’ve been trying to not eat much for a couple of weeks. But today I ordered pizza. I ate it too. I don’t know how that much pizza is inside of me and yet I don’t feel disgustingly full and bloated. I feel fine. I don’t feel hungry, that’s a nice change. But, no mortal should eat that much pizza and not explode. Just call me Pizza Grrl.

I put chicken on it. I’ve never liked pepperoni really. The chicken was good. Maybe that’s why I’m not feeling stuffed. The chicken was lighter than pepperoni which does not come from a bird creature. Therefor it can not fly. Chickens don’t really fly much but the option is there. I’m sure it all makes sense somehow. After all, I can’t really be an alien. I still have all that old paperwork from the US immigration, I think. Besides, I was born here. My Mother said so. So I shouldn’t be an alien as long as I’m still in Canada.

Maybe I should update my passport just to be on the safe side. In case someone realizes I’m an alien and tries to deport me. Where do aliens get deported if they were never from the planet to begin with?

There’s a question for the day. I’m not all that keen on any of the other planets and the moon is just too chilly looking. I’d like something with a little beach, water and maybe a forest off in the moutain area. Of course, I want something with a good Internet connection too. I’m sure someone will work it all out. Last slice of pizza to whoever comes up with a good plan for cosmic alien deportation!

Slightly Missed Opportunity

I went for late brunch today at a local diner called the Beachside Grill (now I’m even forgetting if that was the name exactly). I had the lunch special which turned out to be a HUGE!!! clubhouse sandwich. Not one of those sparsely populated polite excuses for a clubhouse. This sandwich was so thick I split my lip trying to eat it, even after I squished it down with my fingers. Of course, my lip is healing up from a small wound so it splits easier than it usually would right now). Still, with all the tomatoes and the grilled chicken breast (not shaved chicken) that sandwich was at least 5 inches thick. I debated getting a doggie bag for the second half. But, I persevered and ate the whole thing. I had been starving before I decided to get lunch. I’m sure not starved now.

Anyway, I began this post because there was a great picture to be taken in the Grill. I noticed it and intended to snap it off before I left. The restaurant wasn’t very crowded as it was between the lunch and dinner hours. I wish I had just gone ahead and done it. You would have like it almost as much as I did. I may get it another day. But, I let myself talk myself out of it today.

See Skye, I’m not always so bold about taking pictures. 🙂 But, I will get it. It was just too good to miss out on.

I did get to the Eatons Centre again today. Mainly I wanted to get the metropass for December before December starts tomorrow.

The Turkeys were Eaten by Coyotes

We didn’t have turkeys for Thanksgiving this year. They were eaten by coyotes. The woman who raises turkeys locally called to let us know yesterday. Luckily we had just ordered several capons from the chicken man. So we unfroze one of those instead.

I am so tired now, even though I went to bed about 11:00 last night and just woke up a short time ago, around 7:00. Yesterday I was up at 5:30, began making bread, pies and generally peelling and chopping everything that came within range. In my life there are few vegetables or fruits I have not peeled or chopped at some point.

I could go back to bed now. But, oddly enough, I’m hungry. I was stuffed about as much as the capon yesterday afternoon. I didn’t think I’d be hungry for at least a day afterwards. Kind of like large predators who only eat every few days once they gorge themselves. But no. I am already thinking that cold chicken with some salt would make a good breakfast.