Why the American Bald Eagle is an asshole

So you know that bird that's the representation of all things America? I forget its name. Hold on, let me turn on Fox TV. No wrong channel. Just a bunch of meerkats eating beetles on that channel. Ah here we go. The Discovery channel. The "is running out of ideas channel" has a program they've been running for far too long now called the Deadliest Catch. Quick side question. How do you think fame has affected some of the egos on those guys? I can imagine that some are still humble but some are giant Macy's Day Parade floats with heads as distorted and bulbous as Goofy...or worse—Pikachu! That thing is almost pure round. HA

So my father knows some of the guys from that Deadliest Catch as he is in the marine electronics field up in Dutch Harbor. I bring him up in context of that show only for the geographical reference (okay secretly I like to snicker when he says Sig is a nice guy).

Here is what Alaska is like

I called him on the phone today and in between the lag that happens when two cell phones communicate from that distance he told me a story that made my eyes water with laughter.

RETURN OF THE BALD EAGLE! So he tells me that yesterday he was walking from building to building in town and had his hat and glasses ripped from his head. The way he described it is what made me laugh. Let me take a quick detour and explain my father. He is simple and humble. Okay so he tells me this bird smacks him in the back of the head and he thinks to himself what the heck. Given that this is not his first year up in Dutch Harbor he quickly assesses that the thump was the result of talons from an eagle grasping at his hat. The bird flies off but not too far. It perches itself on a light post and my father proceeds to wait. In his wisdom he just waits. He knows the bird will eventually release his hat and glasses from his clutches. Plus he really likes that hat (which to add further depth to his character, you need to know was free...maybe 10 years ago).

I laugh at this part as I imagine this bird (do you fully grasp just how large bald eagles actually are? Try an 8 foot wing span) looking down at my father and almost taunting him. He takes the hat and glasses into one foot (what do you call bird feet? When I think of feet I certainly don't think of several inch-long razor-sharp talons) and dangles it. I got yo bitch ass hat Todd, what you gon' do 'bout it?

The bird eventually drops the items and they both go on with their day.

He then tells me about a person who was attacked (let's face it, probably the same stupid bird) and badly. This time the eagle used those talons to dig into the scalp of this poor person and did some work. Anyhow, the person goes to the hospital and gets stitches. On the way back to their house the bird strikes AGAIN. I laugh but also cringe at the thought of a 15+ pound bird dropping down onto my head a fierce battle cry and hot serrated blades.

This is my father. Bald Eagle for scale.

Because shit is funny

Did you miss me?

I'm back from a writing hiatus. Insert a terribly trite metaphor of explosions and flames to welcome me back, only slightly modified and supercharged with a gurggle of lasting unburnt fuel in the exhaust system of a new Corvette Stingray (because DEAR HIGHER POWER that car is excellent looking). 

I have new ideas and several directions to test out. If you know anything about me though, you might know that my commitment level to creative idea is about as lasting as seasonal allergies. I sneeze out ideas and keep sneezing until there is a waste bin (thank you brother) containing all the wonderful words that came to me. Then I let them sit and stew. The warm runoff bleeding through the fibers of individual pieces and adhering to one another, through the bonds only clear snot can achieve, like layers of an abstract art piece I think about making but don't. This process is important to me because it's during this stage that I romanticize my crusty tissues, only to abandon them once the season of headaches and itchy nose has passed. Ahhhh....Summer!

So over the past two months I have traveled. 

I pulled off many memorable Hemmingways (my newest favorite way to drink wine and nap in the sun). 

I visited San Diego and saw some fish and managed to calculate out some dance moves at my childhood best friend's wedding. 

I've thought about what I want to be and how I want to live.

I failed at coming to any conclusion(s) on the above mentioned topics.

I watched a very good friend of mine graduate from a Nursing program, which my girlfriend will be starting in the Fall, and began composing a speech for her day of graduation (that she is very excited to read).

Lucas and I went on a few hikes and runs.

I thought of the perfect way to commit suicide. Don't worry, it was just my scumbag mind toying with me. I know I'm not the only one that this happens to.

I watched all of Wilfred and enjoyed nearly every second of it (minus that awkward bit when the dog and Ryan make out).

I've been inspired by the people in my life.

I came to the conclusion that I hate writing for others but must do so to earn money.

I fell more in love with my girlfriend by exposing both of our weaknesses and putting in work.

To welcome me back I've hired Eminem to do up a song of his. 

Cloudy Bellingham

This past week I capitalized on some free time and went for a bike ride on the Raleigh. Ski to Sea is coming up in less than a month now and my legs haven't peddled a bike very much in the past year, so I swapped the clipless pedals from the Cannondale and put them on the commuter for a work out. Riding is a relaxing time for me but doesn't get to happen all that often anymore. I have become a "fair weather rider" which means I am lazy. A few years ago when I was riding religiously, I would BLOW past someone I thought looked like a fair weather rider as fast as I could to prove a point: I ride more than you. When I was in shape it made me feel good to spot someone in the distance and make it a goal to pass them in a certain time (there isn't much to really entertain a person when you're on a bike for 3-4 hours) and then actually pass them. I am getting too far off topic though.

So the other day the sun was out and I was on the bike. Happy. When I ride, and this has always been true, I look around. The experience of riding along a country road outside Bellingham, with cows munching the greenest grass in a field that undulates in no particular set rhythm, Mt. Baker in the distance as a scale for size, one isolated tree for shade in the middle of nowhere, and the pulse of a hot road giving off heat in waves. It's splendid isolation.

When the clouds are out, which is nearly every day, I look at those too. This brings me to the reason for this post. I was on the bike and close to home when I spotted a cloud formation I had not ever seen before. The kickstand went down and I parked the bike on the side of the street, grabbed my phone out of my pocket and turned down the music. The wind quickly ruined the formation, and by the time I got home it was gone altogether.

Clouds are magnificent. Bellingham has an endless supply of variety and after seeing this formation I want to study and know the different types of clouds. It sounds a little odd and possibly really dorky to know the different cloud types, but that's okay. Some people know the stats of a football player (who am I kidding...these people probably know the stats for nearly ever person in the league!) so why can't I know what causes our atmosphere to produce an array of different clouds. Yeah...still dorky. HA

Tongue biting 101

It's time to raise awareness for a thing that I have not ever heard of anyone else suffering from. Here is what I want you to do to raise awareness. Go ahead and bite the side of your tongue as hard as you can. Drawing blood is preferable, but not 100% required to be the fullest raiser of awareness.

Great! Now that you have done that, wait a day or two for it to swell. After your tongue has turned into a perfect mold for how your teeth look when they mash down on soft skin, go ahead and try to eat food. Any type of food will do, as ever single thing you put in your mouth brings you close to tears. It's the motion of tongue rubbing on teeth that brings the most accurate feeling of what I go through. I guess it is a little unfair of me to ask you to knowingly do this to yourself, as my tongue biting happens at night so I don't have to psych myself up...it just happens all on its own.

Definitely without my permission too I might add. I mean, who willingly signs up for this?! Certainly not any creature that needs to drink water in order to survive. Today at work I was carefully drinking water, you know to keep it on one side of my mouth, when a little got over to the red zone and I almost lost my mind. It hurts so very bad. My spit factory went into hyper drive and the cool water from the Nalgene quickly turned into the warm familiar fluid I swallow every 30 seconds when I have a chunk missing from my tongue. 

I've been quiet at work lately and let me just say that if you know someone who is quiet, cut them some damn slack. Maybe they just bit their tongue and in order to save face, they keep their mouth shut so that drool doesn't pour from their face like a hose leaking warm clear saliva. Okay I realize they could be a "quiet" person for a multitude of reasons. Some people are just that way and you should be okay with that.

Another terrible side effect of this tongue lashing is not being able to kiss my girlfriend. If my eyes are watering from my own tongue occupying the tiny space in my mouth, I would legitimately go insane if her tongue was in their too. I showed her this picture before posting this and she told me it was, "The single most unattractive thing I have ever seen." That says a lot coming from her as she is a CNA. She's literally seen some SHIT.

I remember the first time I suffered from this terrible luck of biting my tongue. It was back in middle school when I tried to bunny-hop my bike up a curb and goofed the bunny-hop part. I don't remember how the biting went down, but it was the worst biting to date. Bad enough for me to still remember it for cry eye!

The only thing that helps get ride of it is mouthwash. Now if you have ever used mouthwash, on a normal day it sort of burns...right? I want to remodel the walls of my house with a fist when I swish that hot blue pain around my mouth. The pain radiates down the roots of my teeth and punches me in the jaw bone and the only thing I can do it clench.

So I am going to set up a link on my blog. You can donate money to me in this desperate time of need. HA HA

How my uvula acts like chicken skin is the same as Hagfish snot

So I want to share something with you all. It's sort of a problem I have, and whenever I think about surviving on my own in the wilderness, this annoying biological reaction keeps me grounded in the reality that I could very easily starve to death.

I can't eat chicken skin without gagging. 

Go on. Laugh. But I seriously cannot do it. Let's get one thing clear. I cannot do it because that dangly thing in the back of my throat LITERALLY won't let me. It does a good job. I cannot complain that it saves me each and every time someone tricks me into thinking I can eat the skin part. I think to myself yeah I can do this. And it's like no way man. Do you want to look like an idiot in front of all these people? Oh you do? Okay well try and eat it. I am thankful for having such an over protective uvula thing.

It's not like I can't do it because eeewwwww. No...I can't do it because I am in the statistical category of people who would not be able to survive if chicken skin was the only food product left on the planet in an apocalyptic world. While I am at it, I might as well add steak fat to the list too. I JUST CAN'T!

Recent example: I purchased a whole roasted chicken. I ate would I wanted and saved the carcass for my dog. After a week of sitting in the fridge, I took a fork to it and got as much meat off the bones as I could. It had been sitting in the fat drippings the whole time so the skin peeled away from the wings and legs like a thin layer of clear film. It made me gag. I wasn't even putting the skin in my mouth and it made me gag! Just holding it my fingers made my uvula send a message to my esophagus to prepare for overflow.

By "clear film" I am reminded of the snot of a Hagfish

 Another you say?








It's the texture that does it for me. I am a civilized man living in a modern age and can recognize that there are just some things I cannot put in my mouth. Some people can put whatever they want in their mouth. Not me. I'm okay with this. For both them and myself. I guess what it boils down to is knowing your limitations and when to say "no".

Not sure if creepy, or charming.