HO HO ho-hum .... Holly Daze??? POOP!

W(what")T(the)F(flock)!

I have never seen such ineptitude! Well, yes I have, but really, is that any excuse? I have been full of myself for 2 weeks and not a single opportunity to post on my own plog.

WANTED: An Executive Assistant that will work for crumbs!

Is that too much to ask?

She's been making 'chop' (parrot veggie mix), cleaning cages, floors and bowls, making holiday greeting cards, ordering bird toy parts, doing laundry (and no, I do NOT accept any responsibility for her bad timing where poop is concerned), decorating for something called Holly Daze, and generally ignoring my creative needs.

I don't get this entire Holly Daze thing.  More work for HER, less time for ME.  As I see it, what's to celebrate?

WAIT A MINUTE!!  I spy bright colored plastic and wooden shapes, strips of leather, cotton twine sticking out of the just-opened UPS box.  WooHoo!!!

Maybe this SANDY CLAWZ guy I keep hearing about will come through again this year and show up with some rad toyz!

HAPPY HOLLY DAZE!

Y--E--S!!!!

Finally --- Divine Retribution!!

I am sunning myself in the courtyard, making phone calls, practicing my show tunes and rock numbers, generally being 'above the fray', and Cracker is having 'nappy time' in the bedroom.

Some days get better as they go along.

Now if RIP will stop making his 'space ship' noises, it will be a prefect afternoon!

Hostage Situation!!!

It is 7:45 am, and I am soooooooo over this morning routine!

When 'Cracker' (aka: Silvo the Umbrella Cockatoo -- see photos below of his 'Shower Sequence')  first came to live with us, I felt sorry for his silly butt.  Now?  Not so much.  In truth, I feel self-pity in great swells that match his screeches.

Here's the drill:

5:30 am:
squawk............squawk.................squawk........................squawk........................

(That would be Cracker's bad imitation of Joe's alarm clock reminding him to take his morning meds -- but since Joe is home from work now with his bad back, we don't need to wake him at 5:30. Does Cracker care?  No!  Does he care that I don't want to get up before the sun. NO!)

5:40 am:
squawk........squawk..............squawk............................

(That would be Cracker's bad imitation of Joe's snooze alarm, which, we don't need either.)

Repeat above at 10 minute intervals until either your head explodes or 6:10 am comes and Cracker gets serious about his 'duties' as the family alarm clock.

6:10 am: squawk............squawk........  Squawk..............SQuawk....................SQUawk.............SQUAwk.............SQUAWk..............SQUAWK............................ SQUAAAAAAAAAAAWK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SCREECH...SCREECH..SCREECH........SCREEEEEEEEECH!!!!!!!!ad nauseam

By no later than 6:30 am, MY Executive Assistant is folding birdie cage covers, getting fresh water, making snacks, and in general, waiting on Cracker instead of doing MY bidding, which is what she is paid to do.

Now I ask, IS THIS EQUITABLE?  

Even as I dictate, Cracker is on the couch beside My Assistant, hiding under an old table clothe he has adopted for his interminable 'peek-a-boo' sessions, while she tries to type, keep him from chewing the already-shredded couch cover, or from falling off the couch backwards.  This is what she must do every day of my life in order to keep the peace in the morning.  

HELP!  I'm being held hostage by a Cracker!!!

It's a Dawg's Life

Don't get me wrong, dogs are fine (in their place), but that place is NOT in the bird cages of my parrot brothers, in the courtyard.

Confused?  Imagine how our neighbors much have felt this afternoon, when my bird-brained brothers had a barking contest.  Seriously, can't a gal sun herself in peace while practicing show tunes?  Not around this zoo.

I'm considering requesting private time outdoors.  These sibling issues are beginning to take their toll.  I've forgotten the intro to 'Singing in the Rain', one of my best tunes. And why dawgs, anyhow? My guess is they are too dumb to mimic catz.  And if I may say so, that's just sad.

I have to say, they do put an entirely new spine to the expression, 'Barking Mad'.

It's late, my Executive Assistant has 'a sleeping pill with her name on it' (that's a quote), and I have an early practice in mind.  I think a few rousing bars of my latest favorite, Smoke on the Water, should be payback enough for the Dawg fight.  What do you think??  "bomp bomp bomp, bomp bomp ba bomp, bomp bomp bomp, bomp-bomp----

(If you are too old to know what song I'm referring to, don't admit it -- hint --- my current fav color is 'Deep Purple' --wink.)

Gobble, Gobble, Gobble!!

I mean really, if you don't believe turkeys are dumb, ask yourself this question: why in the world would you pick 'Gobble' as your signature call, when you end up being shot and gobbled up on holidays?  I'd try making a sound like a freight train, for crying out loud!

But seriously, we had chicken --- (speaking of dumb clucks---just sayin') and it was delish.  Of course, we are not allowed more than a beak-full of anything we really like.  Go figure.  And Freada actually says 'that's not good for the birdies' as she stuffs yet another Hershey's white-chocolate peppermint Kiss in her mouth.  What hypocrisy!  I suppose she is determined to keep us healthy or die trying.

I have been viewing YouTube videos of other parrots talking. I believe this is being forced on me as a means to get me to speak on command.  As if.  I don't think you will be seeing me on the internet saying, 'Gobble, Gobble, Gobble...' any time soon.  I have much too much dignity for that.

However, if anyone reading this plog can talk my Executive Assistant into giving me peanuts on demand, we can discuss 'options'.  I do not come free, but I do have my price.

Hope all my fans had a Happy Bird-day!!

Speaking for Parrots---

May I just vent?

Good help is hard to find.  Seriously, I am bubbling over with pithy repartee, and no assistant in sight.  I don’t mean to insinuate that my needs are neglected: on the contrary, I am well cared for physically; it’s my creative spirit that is malnourished, and merely for the lack of opposable thumbs.  I really must learn to hunt and peck on the keyboard. 

Enough about my tribulations---

I am ecstatic to relay the news that my brother RIP can finally call me by name!  Most of you would not recognize ‘Roxy’ when said by RIP, but I know it’s what he’s trying for. What a little trouper!

Silvio (aka: Cracker) is now saying ‘water’ – and since he talks like Elmo, you can imagine how it sounds. (roflmfo)  (Roll on floor, laugh my feathers off.)

I, on the other hand, refuse to simply ask for water or to acknowledge the receipt of same.  I would rather do sound effects.  When anyone needs or receives fresh water, I make the sound of an office water cooler gurgling.  It’s always good for laughs, which is great for diverting attention away from questionable behaviors. I admit it: I’m not perfect, but I am brilliant. That is why I take it upon myself to translate for my brothers, (as well, on occasion, for the family catz).  Speaking for parrots is much less annoying than having to listen to them squawking all day.  When all else fails, I chastise.  Some days I wonder who is in charge around here.

Cirque de Squirreleil

Bonjour, all you cirque fans out there.  I have been on an enforced sabbatical, due to the erratic schedule of my Executive Assistant.  But tonight, I drew the line.  After all, it isn't every day a squirrel capers over the palm fronds, drops into the frangipani, and skitters across the drain pipe, to the tune of 'Raiders of the Lost Ark', (my latest dramatic, melodic interpretation).

How and why, you ask?  Only another rodent could say.  I am too far superior a species to even speculate, but on the way from the mailbox, the drama unfolded.  That squirrel was hell-bent on out-running us, and I was forbidden to fly in pursuit. Drat!  When I publish my memoirs and can hire more tractable aid, these problems will sort themselves out.  Until then, I am at the mercy of a human with 'issues'.

Sorry to plog and fly (so to speak) but there are only a few moments until it's "good night treat-zy time", (to quote my feather-brained Cockatoo brother, 'Cracker' aka Silvio) and I need to get in a few more bars of practice.