Monday, March 31, 2014


There is a new phenomenon sweeping my backyard.

If I'm being honest, it's probably sweeping the back yards of lots of folks in my neighborhood. And county. And state. 

But they don't have blogs, so I get to talk about it.




They exist.

And this time of year, they exist A LOT.

Particularly noticeable in my little slice of heaven is a trio of jerkfaced robins.

This is a male robin.

image courtesy of

Except right now, male robins around my home look more like softballs with feathers. The suckers are huge. And they're hungry. And they're horny.

It's been a long winter for the poor little turdus migratorius. So now that spring is... well... springing, they've got business to attend to. 

First and foremost is feeding their prodigous girths with all the grubblies and wigglies and icky-grossities that my yard can produce.

To that I say Go Get 'Em. I don't want them, you can have them. Knock yourselves out.

But secondly, they must find a lady friend so that they can start making little birds. But in order to win over a ladybird, they must do battle with one another to prove themselves the most manly and worthy producer of baby-bird-gravy.

Which has led to some interesting viewing on the front yard channel of my local living room television.**1

Most recently, we watched on Saturday as a pair of robins started to puff and fuss at one another.

Their first step, it seems, is to fill themselves so full of air and attitude that they puff beyond the extent that you'd think their little birdy skin would go. When this fails to scare off their equally-puffy combatant, they resort to dirtier tactics.

Now, in my back yard is a fabulously springy pine tree. It has long, lithe boughs that bend and swoop with the wind... or, for instance, under the weight of a fat-and-horny robin. Our combatants alighted, one each upon the lowest boughs of the tree. But as it is a product of nature, the boughs are not symmetrically aligned along the trunk. No... one is higher than the other. This created the issue... and the solution.

Upon realizing that his higher station provided him an edge in combat, the higher-lit contestant seemed to ready himself and then attack. He would, in one quick movement, jump from his own station and alight on the bough of his counterpart. The doubled weight upon the limb would cause it to swoop low, but the attacker was ready for this. As soon as the bough reached its lowest point, and before it started to spring back upwards and reset, he would spread his wings and take off on a diagonal plane so as to break free of the upward trajectory of the bough... effectively flinging his opponent into the air, and causing a great amount of displeasure.

At least, it did for them. They battled back and forth, flinging each other and resetting and then flinging each other once more until finally they either declared a winner or forgot what they were fighting for. They weren't seen again until the next morning when they both ran around the snowbanks out front and drove the dog to the brink of insanity.

It's going to be a fun Spring!

**1 It's the Young Master's favorite channel, best watched by turning wrong-way-round on the couch and mashing one's nose against the window behind, whilst one's tail drapes off the edge of the couch where human legs typically go. But at the very least, he looks comfortable. It doesn't work for me, but he's happy.

Thursday, March 27, 2014


I think there's nothing
That pains a body so... No, I
Cannot think of a single thing.
How is it, I ask, of
You, that toes ensconced in sneakers are so ITCHY?

Tuesday, March 11, 2014


I'm sorry I was late for work today.

I would have been in sooner, except that my puppy...

Well, he was just so excited. There was snow. And there was springtime. And he was thrilled.

And, really, he was too excited. 

It bubbled out of him all over the place - every which way except out the back.

I'm sorry that I was late for work today. My puppy was too excited to poop.

Monday, March 10, 2014

Dihydrous Monoxide

When I was in seventh grade, I had to write a paper on dihydrous monoxide. It was some intense research - I had to cover the chemical composition, uses, and (most importantly) its lethal implications. Dihydrous monixide is a killer. It's found in every serial killer's brain... it's found in most poisons and toxins... It's found in the wounds of sharkbite victims and the saliva of rabid dogs and it's virtually undetectable by taste or smell. Lethal stuff, ReaderFriend. Lethal stuff indeed.**1

That paper, written almost exclusively for the practice of validating resources and verifying facts, taught me a valuable lesson during my childhood: That the internet is not 100% based in truth. Additionally, even facts can be cleverly phrased to sound exaggerated or understated to fit the author's needs.

It seems it's time for me to give that practice a try again.

(The checking-my-sources practice. Not the exaggerating or understating practice.)

Since the month of November last year, I started listing daily holidays and observances on my cubicle white board to pass the workweek. It started around Thanksgiving with a little survey - questions about favorite types of pie, and how far one drives, and all sorts of exciting things to personally connect with coworkers during the holidays.

As the actual holidays drew to a close in January, I found myself running out of holidays to celebrate and thought that was sad indeed. Instead of watching the festivities draw to their inevitable close, instead I started researching holidays to post on my white board. I stumbled across a website called, and found a wealth of information. It was just the resource I needed to keep my whiteboard up to date with the latest and greatest on World Popcorn Day and Independence Day (Lithuania) and all the other important dates that needed noting so as to avoid that unfortunate post-holiday crash back into reality.

Of course... I had some reservations. After all, the basis of the Cute Calendar was - a website that, for all its readily available information, isn't super on-point about its accuracy.

For instance... I missed "National Cookie Day" because it wasn't noted in Cute Calendar.

And then, another day I missed "National Chocolate Day" because it wasn't noted either.

But the nail in the coffin of for me happened just this morning, as I was planning out what we would celebrate this week.

March 11th would be Youth Day in Pakistan. That sounds like a worthy date, and something that should have attention brought to it. 

March 13th would be Popcorn Lover's Day. Boyfriend of Amazingness is absolutely batty about popcorn, so that day I'll head out and pick up some gourmet snacks to lavish upon him for dinner that night.

March 14. Oh! It's Pi day! But, wait... Pi Day isn't noted as the most important date on March 14 on It's second in line. 'Second to what,' you ask? 

I read the description, and was immediately incensed. So incensed, in fact, that I need to quote the original website for fear of tainting their message with my snarkiness:

"Steak and BJ Day is a holiday celebrated one month after Valentine's Day. It was founded because Valentine's Day is a made up holiday for women and vegetarians; so it is only fair that there is an equivalent holiday for normal people. 

The idea is simple: there are no cards, flowers, candy or other overpriced fluff. Partners need only to bestow their man with a steak and a BJ. But not necessarily in that order. And not necessarily only once that day." -

A made up holiday for women and vegetarians.

So made up, in fact, that there is a need for an equivalent holiday for normal people.

Now... I have my reservations about Valentine's Day. In fact... I think I've stated them once or twice. I don't love the idea of being told that I need to express my emotions because the calendar says I should. I think I should express my emotions whenever I feel them - specifically, all the time. I'm in love every day with the man whom I've chosen to put up with me for life. I'm in love every day with our life together, so I tell him every day. 

But that doesn't mean that some folks don't need a reminder on the calendar. I've got friends and relatives that adore Valentine's Day, and make a big deal out of their significant other just because it's February 14th. And, in the past, I've been in relationships where Valentine's interjected romance into my life during the long dry spell between Christmas and my birthday. Sometimes it just needs to be written down. Besides - if we can celebrate St. Patrick's Day with getting absolutely fockered, I think it's okay to celebrate St. Valentine's Day with getting fat on chocolate and maybe getting some sexy rumpus.**2

And [brace yourself for this revelation, my dear one...] women - and vegetarians - are normal people, too.

(Don't let the chestal appendages and the penchant towards brussel sprouts put you off. We eat... We breathe... We even poop. And, honestly, vegetarians might even do that better than "Normal People," because they get all that extra fiber.)

It was only after much angry thought that I noted the irony of the holiday, ReaderFriends. "Valentine's Day is a made up holiday..." the writer lambasted. But then, "It's only fair that there is an equivalent..." So, essentially, the writer would like his own made-up holiday. Easy enough! I, Sunny Smiles, am willing to acquiesce this:

March 14 shall be henceforth and hitherto known as STEAK AND BJ DAY - the day where all the poor sad-sacks who are toxically trapped by their girlfriends/mothers/overbearing cats get their recompense for the gifts they bestowed on February 14. But I would like the day to come with this caveat:

An Open Letter to Those Who Celebrate Steak and BJ Day Because "It's Only Fair":

Dearheart, maybe next year you ought to spring for a nicer box of chocolates. Or a new partner-friend. Perhaps one who thinks - as most do - that Valentine's Day is for everyone to shower a little love over everyone else, in a big chocolate-filled flower-scented orgy and not just for Normal People to be held in a societal obligation to the Women and the Vegetarians of the world. It is my fondest hope that this, in turn, will leave March 14 open for the fruit-filled pastries of highest import... and saves you a month of evenings spent alone, quietly plotting how you'll trick your next ladyfriend into wrapping her face around your crotch.

And I follow up with this:

An Open Letter To
The Female Counterpart of The Poor Sad-Sack Who Came Up With "Steak and BJ Day."

Don't do it, nice lady. You don't owe him anything.

Respectfully Submitted,

Sunny Smiles

**1 Dihydrous Monoxide, written out as a chemical compound, is H2O.

**2 This.