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| 5:38 p.m.-2004-06-24 Holee shit-face craps (and I mean that in the nicest way possible). It's been three days. Three days of HELL. I feel like I've been living in the world of Triumph the Insult Comic Dog or something. Fuck. Everytime I think I've drug myself up out of the hole, someone comes along and smacks me in the back of the head with a shovel and starts filling it back in again. Of course, the Cabin-Boy's already spilled the beans about the bird, and the car, but man. What a few days to have to live through. Heh. Didn't know you had to read TWO diaries to get the scoop on my life, did you? For the record, I hate our parrot with a passion. He starts to scream, and I'm ready to fling him out of the window and tell him to fend for his own self. He looks me in the eye and calls me a buttfuckface, and I smile and feed him expensive treats. He gets to watch what HE wants on TV, he gets to get up when he wants, and go to bed when he wants, he gets fed when he wants, and we just sort of bow and scrape and do what the little shit-maker wants. And then last Sunday night, I'm playing Temple of Elemental Evil on the computer, and he gives a funny squawk and **FLOP** falls right off his perch, sort of like Bush going over the handlebars of a Segway. I just KNEW he was dead when I picked him up, but he gave a pathetic little SQUAWK of sound, and looked at me with pinned eyes. I panicked. I wrapped the little buttmunch up in a towel and took him to 'Dad'...the one human being he's known since he was a baby bird. I had to wake him up to show him the bird, and we sat with him on the bed in a death watch. He was on Death's doorstep. It was pathetic. I bawled like a four year old over the first dead hamster. Four days later, and he's up on his perch, he's squawking, and he's feeling well enough to have bitten a chunk out of me when I gave him his medicine this morning. Little bastard. He's not all better, mind you, but he's no longer on Death's doorstep. He's sort of...out on the sidewalk in front of Death's suburuban house, in a greasy frozen frenchfry box. But that's a step up. Definately, a step up. A pirate without a parrot is a sad thing. I'm so glad that he's feeling better, the little peckerhead. The Captain PS: Get a load of this. I was the #1 search for 'Internet Diarys' on msn.com today. Yay misspeelings!
 The Internet's Mood: The Captain Recommends Dogcessorize 2006-08-13 - Movie Review: Monster House 2006-08-07 - Movie Review: The Descent 2006-06-09 - Movie Review: The Omen 2006-06-03 - She's here, She's here! 2006-05-22 - Blame the Cabin-Boy for playing 50 questions.
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