Thursday, March 17, 2011

Cured!

As a superfluous part of our conversation on my hematoma, my sister was able to cure my brain tumor over the phone. She is truly gifted as a healer.

It turns out the symptoms of a brain tumor you might have approached Dr. Google with are shockingly similar to the symptoms you might experience if you're not eating enough.

Things such as light headedness, fatigue, memory problems, headaches etc, are also symptoms of the somewhat more benign and more easily treatable disease called "being a dumass".

I made the enormous effort it required to eat a little more and miraculously most of my symptoms disappeared! The rest of my symptoms could easily be be attributed to the staggering stress of being so awesome all the time and an antihistamine I've been taking. I think I'm allergic to my bird.

You didn't know I had a pet bird did you? I'm full of surprises.

Which brings me to our next discussion.

"Is Mr. Nickers still resting comfortably?" She asked.

"Why yes, and he'll be thrilled that you checked up on him." By thrilled I mean he'll try to bite me if I go anywhere near him.

Over Christmas my sister solved another major problem I'd been dealing with. I came home from Korea to find Mr. Nickers had frighteningly long fingernails. Think of those dragon lady press on nails x 10 and you have an idea.

Why didn't I just clip the motherfuckers myself and have done with it, you ask? Because like dogs (and cats I presume) birds have fingernails that are alive and full of veins.

Add to this horrible situation the fact that birds have thin blood and are in very real danger of bleeding to death at the slightest injury and you can clearly see why letting his fingernails come within nanometers of growing into his feet was the best option.

Then my sister came home for Christmas. Conveniently, she had worked as a vet assistant before her transition into the human health industry.

I approached her with a proposition.

"My bird needs his fingernails trimmed." I said.
"Really?"

She didn't get what I was proposing.

"My bird needs his fingernails trimmed by you."
"Oh, I've never done that before."
"We trust you."

We both regarded my extremely misanthropic bird. Becoming aware our intent gaze, he became noticeably agitated and moved as far away from us as he possibly could.

My sister was not super excited about the whole endeavor, but what could she do? His fingernails were out of control!

"Fine." She said as if she trimming his nails was not at the very top of her list of 'Things to do While Visiting Your Family for the First Time in Over a Year.' You hold him and I'll trim them." She said.

Nickers and I agreed. Actually, I agreed and Nickers snarled.

A few minutes later my sister and I had emotionally prepared for the ordeal ahead. I reached in the cage, and pulled out my furious, violent bird.

He bit me, he screeched, he fought valiantly through the whole thing.

I broke out in a sweat from the trauma of it.

When it was over, I put him back in his cage. He was wet, flustered and completely insulted. Once he had calmed down enough, he spent the next 20 minutes cleaning my human filth from his feathers and feet.

I've noticed, that in the news, after someone famous has endured a horrible trauma, they always report, "So and so is now resting comfortably."

So of course, Mr. Nickers is still resting comfortably. Though his nails are beginning, once again, to get a little long. And of course I've already had my sister put 'trimming angry bird's nails' at the top of her list for next time she visits.

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