Non-sequiturs, anti-humor, and the angry ramblings of a 20 something misanthrope.
My preferred pronouns are Wiggy, Whim-wham, and Wozzle.
The old lady receptionist at the dentist’s office told me I was a good lookin’ boy and took this picture of me on her ipad.
So, a few weeks ago I got a pet bird. It was really special.
Everywhere online I just kept reading training tips that said it would take a least a month before you’d be able to touch your bird with your hand. Mine started getting on my finger on the 3rd day.
I never even had to close it’s cage because it would just sit on the top all day. It never flew around or tried to go anywhere. If it did it would only be a few feet away, and within minutes it would go right back to the top of it’s cage.
Lately I had even got it used to flying over to perch on my shoulder and hang out with me until it felt like flying back to it’s cage.
Just a little bit ago I came home and couldn’t find him anywhere. After searching in every little corner I could think of I finally found it floating dead in the toilet.
I really need to get drunk now.