Bird, bird, bird, bird is the word....

So yesterday, I'm laying on my deathbed deathcouch sick-couch and there was a knock and the backdoor.  The kid who lives on the other side of my house was there.  This is the one who has a bedroom in the attic.  He tells me that I may have birds in my attic (at least he didn't say I had bats in my bellfry).  He said he caught one up in his bedroom and released it out the window, but it came back and shit on his table, so now he's done with it.

Anyway, despite being in a drug-induced near-coma/bout of the flu, I told him I'd chck into it and struggled my way upstairs to the attic.  The middle of part of the attic has been made into a bedroom, with carpet and paneling and all that stuff.  That's where I have all my 'attic stuff' stored.  But in the front and back of that room is a normal 'attic': bare rafters, bare wooden floor, etc.

So I went to the front part, and saw nothing.  I saw no bird feathers and no bird shit, so that meant to me that there were no birds there.  I went to the back part, and found the same thing.  Although, as I was walking around a box filled with old sheets (that the previous tenants left there, thanks guys) I found a dea bird laying there.  Right there, next to the box.  And I'm pretty sure I squealed a little.  I'm certain a loud gasp escaped my lips.  It just took me by surprise.  I just hope the kid next door wasn't in his room and heard it.

Anyway, in the midst of my sickness, I didn't feel like doing anything with it.  I thought I'd just deal with it today.  So, today, I went to work, but since I still was feeling pretty crappy, I didn't stay the whole day.  When I got home, I remembered the bird.  And I remembered that tonight's the night I have to put the trash out, so even though I didn't feel like doing anything with it, I knew I had to.  I mean, if I didn't I'd have a dead bird rotting in my attic, or my garbage bag, for another week.  No thank you, sir.

So, I got a plastic bag and a strong piece of cardboard (didn't want to use a broom or dustpan, cause I didn't want anything I'd be using again to touch a dead bird carcass).  I also put on these really thing gardening gloves I have.  Didn't want to risk an inadvertant touch of carcass on flesh, ya know?

So up I go.  I put the bag next to the bird and tried to push it into the bag with the concrete.  I wasn't terribly successful.  I had to put the cardboard under the edge of the bird and try to flip it into the bag.  I was...kind of successful.  But as the bird wasn't totally completely IN the bag, as I lifted the bag up, it just rolled back out and thumped onto the floor.

And it was then I noticed that the bird's eyes were gone.  Like eaten away or disolved or something.  Glorious.   Ignoring that, and the occasional gagging I was doing, I again tried to slide the cardboard under the bird and flip it into the bag.  And this time I was sucessful.  I put the cardboard in the bag, and tied it shut.  And as I was walking it down the stairs to the garbage bag, I gagged a few times more.  But I successfully got the bag into the garbage bag, and even as I type this, it's sitting on the sidewalk waiting for the garbage men tomorrow morning.

And now that I've handled that crisis in totally manly manner, I'm going to bed.  This cold/flu is totally kicking my ass.

POLT

Cut their hair short, wear shirts and boots (Part 214)...

Wife-Beater Wednesdays

This week's theme: Wifebeaters And Tighty-Whiteys!

POLT

Close your eyes, make a leap, a leap of faith....

I went to school with a girl names Alexa.  She was born on February 29, 1968.  So, in 6th grade, when we were all celebrating turning 12, she was just turning 3.  Man, did we make fun of her for that.  Course, she was a good sport and joked along with us.  In non-Leap Year, she celebrated her birthday on March 1st, because is was "the day after February 28th, which is the day I was born."  Makes sense to me.

At any rate, enjoy your Leap Day, kids.

POLT

The back of your hand somewhere on my behind (Part 101)...

Tooshie Tuesdays

No theme, just random tooshie shots.

POLT

Alien clones, what if they steal my socks...

My dad died in 2007.  But he's still, occasionally popping back up in my  life.  No, not as a ghost or anything.  I was telling mom how sometimes, my feet get really cold, even when I'm wearing the Totes Toasties.  So she shows up one cay with these:

They're heavy woolen socks.  She said they were dad's, and they always kept his feet warm.  She's kept the couple pair that he had, and she wore several herself.  So she gave me one set.  And they DO keep the tootsies warm, I gotta say.  Especially when used with the Totes Toasties!  Mmmm, warm feet.

Thanks Dad!

POLT

You're wantin' my body, I don't mind (Part 344)...

MONDAY'S HOT SHIRTLESS GUY PHOTOS

No theme this week, just random shirtless shots.

POLT

Let's get unconscious, honey (Part 298)....

Unconscious Mutterings

These come each week from http://subliminal.lunanina.com/

I say ... and you think ... ?

1.Unsolicited :: Unwanted
2.House :: Home
3.24 hours :: Day
4.Permission :: Slip
5.Inbox :: Outbox
6.Presidential :: Debates
7.Rising :: Sun
8.Hold :: Cargo
9.Hourglass :: Figure
10.More :: Less

POLT

Drive my mini-Cooper and I'm feeling super-dooper (Part 167)...

Superman Sundays

Continuing the tattoo theme, and this one is, in my opinion, pretty damn awesome.  I mean the work is absolutely incredible. 

Course, in forty years, when the guy is old and wrinkled and fat, well, then it'll look horrendous.  But until then...hotness!

POLT

My baby's got a secret (Part 150)...

Secret Saturdays

This week's theme....well, this week's theme should be pretty obvious.

POLT

We're gonna need some action soon, trapped....

Today, the swirly Paul sent me a link to a story about this guy who, while cleaning out his recently deceased mother's house, found his dead uncle stash of comic book from the 1930's and 40's....sorted, packaged, and in great condition.  He ended up selling some of them for like 3.5 million dollars, if I recall correctly.  And then Paul said he hoped Mama Polt had never thrown any away.

I wish to make two comments on this.

1) If I EVER found an Action Comics #1, in any kind of condition, I think I might have an instant orgasm and/or die right there on the spot.  Certainly I'd squeeee until my vocal cords ruptured.  And further, I would NOT sell them.  I mean there's less than 100 known to exist in the world, and possessing one of those, for a comic book geek like me, would be better than possessing...I don't know, an original Picasso, or a Willie Mays baseball card, or an antique car, or what have you.    I think I'd have to hold each and every day (inside the vacuum sealed container of course), and once a year, I'd take it out nad just hold it, just to feel it and smell it.  The Holy Grail of comic book collecting!

2) Mama Polt has never thrown any comic books out.  She knows better.  Although, there is a story I'll relate from when I was just a young Polt.  In the later 70s, when I was somewhere between 10-12, I'd go with mom every Thursday to get groceries.  She'd go to the grocery store at the strip mall and I'd go to the bookstore in the mall.  There, they had one of those old, wire, creaky, rotating racks of comic books, and with my dollar a week allowance, I'd pick out the three comic books with the coolest covers and buy them (yes, comic books were only 30 cents then...ah, the Good Old Days).  I wasn't officially collecthing them yet, but I still had quite a few of them by then.

This particular week, I had bought a Wonder Woman issue.  I don't remember the number, I but I remember the cover clearly: a red background and in the foreground, Wonder Woman was fighting some dragon or giant lizard thing.  I think there was also a tree with no leaves somewher behind them, but whatever. 

When we got home, mom told me to do...something.  I dont recall what.  But instead of doing it, I went to my room and started to read the comic book.  After a bit, mom yelled for me to come downstairs, and I did, comic book in hand.  She asked if I had done what she asked and I said not yet.  Now mom, yes Mama Polt, apparently wasn't in a very good mood, and she was pissed when I told her no.  She grabbed the Wonder Woman comic out of my hand and, in front of my eyes, ripped it in half, and then ripped the halves in half.  She said something about using this as a reminder to do what she tells me, or whatever.  I don't actually recall, because all I could see was tears.  And I went to my room and didn't talk to her for at least a day and a half.  Eventually she apologized for tearing up the comic, but said it was important I listened to her, and blah blah blah. 

But despite the emotional scarring this caused, I made it clear to her that destroying comic books was NOT the way to get me to listen to her.  And that's the only one she ever touched in such a manner.

I think we BOTH learned a lesson that day.

POLT

Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me (Part 308)...

Frenching Fridays

This week's theme: Almost Kisses With 'The Look'.

POLT

And now for a little class on the Palace. 



Probably quite overdue, methinks.

POLT

Today after work I had my monthly Cut-N-Color.

BEFORE

DURING

AFTER

Bad lighting, can't really tell the difference.  Ah well, maybe next month.

POLT

I get a good feeling, yeah...

Now we come to what may (or may not) become a semi-regular feature here on the Palace:

Mama Polt Reads The Hits!

Wherein, I'll give Mama Polt the lyrics to a hit song and have her read them while I film her.  Much hilariry may ensue.  Or may not.  We'll see.

This first one, the volume's really low, so you'll probably have to turn it up.  And in what's totally my fault, I forgot to give her ALL the lyrics, so she stops reading like in the middle of a lyric.  But anyway, I'll let you guys watch it, let me know what you think.



Not too bad for a first, dry run in one take, eh? 

POLT

Cut their hair short, wear shirts and boots (Part 213)...

Wife Beater Wednesdays

Since I saw Kris again Sunday, this week's theme: Black Guys In WifeBeaters

POLT

He's got muscles, did you see the cow with the furrowed brow?

Last week, I'm not sure why, when getting groceries, I saw something and decided spontaneously to buy it.

Laughing Cow Creamy Swiss Wedges.  I've seen them advertised on TV and when I saw them in the store, I thought, "Aw why not?  What the hell?"

I'm not sure if I like them or not.  I mean, I'm eating them, and probably will finish all of them in this wheel.  But I'm not sure if I like them.  It's like cream cheese, looking like it, similar texture and which is generalyl sweet-ish and has a...creamy taste.  But, instead, it's got a swiss cheese taste.  It doesn't taste like it looks.  And that's a bit of a shock for me.  Nonetheless, I do continue to eat it. 

I just don't know.

POLT

The back of your hand, somewhere on my behing (Part 100)...

Tooshie Tuesdays

This week's theme: Tooshies And Shoes.

POLT

Dead presidents, still trying to make a dollar...

President's Day, 2012

Slept in, getting up about 9.
Putzed around in bed on the iPhones: porn, Angry Birds, Words With Friends.
Got on the computer, harvested from Farmville (don't judge me).
Got unexpected call from A Local Celebrity, Mr. David ParisPeking for a lunch date.
Started anti-viral on the computer.
Showered, dressed.
Threw load of towels into washer.
Had lunch at Buffalo Wild Wings with ALCMDPP (was unimpressed with the food).
Went to Best Buy with ALCMDPP.
Since it was a holiday, texted teacher fuckbuddy of mine for a hookup.  He accepted.
Said quick goodbyes to ALCMDPP and was on my way.
Had quickie with fuckbuddy. Stereotypical 'afternoon delight'.
Went to hospital to visit grandma.  Had to wait, they were bathing her.
Went into her room with the social worker. 
Found out Mom was down in the cafeteria.  Called her.
All of us talked about post-release physical therapy for grandma.
(Social worker said phyical therapist said they walked her around and she seemed unsteady.  Grandma got huffy and said, "That's because they have me wearing these thick red sock things and not my shoes!  If I had my shoes they'd have SEEN how I can walk!"  :)  )
Grandma doing well enough to be moved to another floor, one for people needing less direct immediate supervision.
Mom and I got with Grandma in move to new floor, she settles in.
After a short while, I leave and go to mom's to let Angel out.
I return home, move towels from washer to dryer.
Putz around on the computer while watching Star Trek; Voyager episodes.
Walk to Rutters for supper: hot dogs and chips.
Walk back home and eat supper.
More putzing on computer and watching Voyager episodes.
Make a blog post for tomorrow.
Decided to make THIS blog post.

Future Presidents' Day plans:
Take a shower.
Trim goatee.
Cut toenails.
Go to bed and read.
Play some more Angry Birds.
Go to sleep.

So, how was your day?

POLT

You're wanting my body, I don't mind (Part 343)...

MONDAY'S HOT SHIRTLESS GUY PHOTOS

This week's theme: Shirtless Guys In Towels.

POLT