Free to be Cute and Tweet

Okay, first of all, to my Aunt Mary, Omelet is NOT disgusting. He is just a little featherless, that's all. I'll bet you weren't so cute at two hours old, either.

And to anyone who is worried sick, there seem to be three baby birds in the nest now, and we think we still see the fourth egg underneath them. And they are starting to grow feathers. Aunt Mary. You are very looks-ist, anyone ever tell you that?

It's hard to look in there and/or take more pictures, cause that nest is a flurry of action, with the mom and the dad going back and forth with food. They're schlepping pizzas and Brach's chocolate stars and Orange Crush; you'd be amazed.

I like it that the mom AND the dad are getting involved in the child rearing. Very '70s of them. Very Free to be You and Me. Perhaps later they'll all sit in a circle in the nest and share their feelings. Am I giving away a little too much about how I was raised?

So. My bank statement. To move on to a subject that actually addresses this blog. It used to be, back when I spent money and all, that my bank statement was several pages long. Usually I didn't really look at it. Just made sure there was still money in there, and then I shredded it.

For the past five months, that statement is one page long. It shows deposits from work, transfers to savings, and purchases for gas, grass and ass. (Okay, my Michigan is showing. Am I the only person who remembers people saying "Gas, grass or ass. Nobody rides for free"? Oh, no. What if I was the only person anyone ever SAID this to?) Gas, food and migraine pills, is what I was GOING to say before I started listening to Led Zeppelin and hanging my goat high.

So, it's been exciting to have my bank statement be so simple. Makes me feel all smug. But you know what I discovered yesterday? I discovered that I managed to spend SEVENTY-ONE dollars this month at Try-Not-Ta, the restaurant in my building!! Oh, I knew I had wandered down there once or twice, had me a little snicky-snack, but SEVENTY-ONE DOLLARS worth of snicky-snacking?! If I did that every month, that'd be $852 a year spent in that stupid place. And the food isn't even that good!

So I thought I had better admit it to you, dear reader. Man. Man alive. Man Polly, quit crying. I have got to stop that behavior now.

I will leave you with that promise and one final query:

Must we hear about EVERY hour that Paris Hilton is spending in jail? Really. I know that she ate bread yesterday. Who CARES? Why do I have to know this? Today on my Google home page, which is full of hard-hitting sites like People.com, I read, "Paris had a Good First Night in Jail" and then later "Paris gets a Visit from her Therapist in Jail." Now SERIOUSLY. At this point, I am more well-versed about Paris than Pepe Le Pew. Now THAT, Aunt Mary, is what is disgusting.