I’m still having bird nightmares. I keep dreaming there are feathers in my mouth. Why (OH WHY!) do my dreams always involve pulling strange things out of my mouth? You know what? Don’t answer that one.
It doesn’t help that I keep reading pieces about birds randomly falling out of the sky. Birds are creepy, but dead birds are uber creepy. I’m talking Crispin Glover creepy, Interwebz. But for the record? This is the best line from a news article covering a zombie bird apocalypse EVER:
“Suddenly, there descended upon her a gentle shower of meat.”
Yes, that’s just one tiny selection from the New York Times news coverage of the great “Kentucky Meat Shower” of 1876. Quick! Someone call Gaga’s people and tell ’em we’ve got the title for her next album. (Thanks for the link, Brian!)
And while I’m mentioning the awesome things that you beautiful people send me, the adorable Kirste recently informed me that January 28th is National Kazoo Day! I KNOW! A national day of celebration for all things kazoo! Does it sound like heaven or what?
Everyone run out and tune your kazoo so you can be ready for the big day. Wait, you don’t have a kazoo? The HORROR! (Though still not as scary as Black Swan.) If only I could think of someone with a personal stockpile of kazoos. Hmmm. So if you need on, email me! I’ll zip it right on out to ya!
Then you can sound like this guy:
You could even send me videos of your mad musical stylings! Do it! It’ll cheer me up. Otherwise I’ll be forced to read the Twilight series again.
Side Note: It feels weird to keep writing about silliness when the world is falling apart, but I suck at serious. Also, I don’t think you really come here for serious, do you? You come here for a mental margarita, right? But for those of you feeling strong and like you might have a little something in you to help the world, here’s a few other posts worth reading today.