My four pound beer baby

Well, dear readers, it has been 14 days since I've ingested a beer and I've lost four pounds. And I must say, it feels pretty good. I've managed to keep up the exercise routine for two whole weeks, and I have high hopes that I'll be able to sustain it.

I certainly don't want to drone on and on about exercise and my dietary habits. I can only imagine how boring that is to read about it. Instead, let me give you some advice that I hope you will carry with and share with others for as long as you shall live. You see this little bird here? There's another (green) one just under the light switch. These are called Lovebirds. Someone with a really sick sense of humor came up with that name, because let me tell you, there is not a lot of love in these little avian bodies. More like concentrated evil.

We've had Spanky (green) and Icky (yellow, Spanky's daughter) for 11 and 9 years, respectively. I'm fairly certain that even if I live to be 80 years old, these birds will still be around, trying to nip my fingers and making my house a noisy echochamber of birdcall. I bought Spanky and Feeble (Icky's dad, now deceased) for Rob as a birthday gift. It was a mere six months after we started dating, and I had rocks in my head. Not only did he NOT want birds, he specifically told me NOT to buy him birds. In true Homer Simpson fashion, I bought them anyway, because it is what I really wanted. It is a gift-giving faux pas I've had to live with for a very long time.

So my advice, dear readers, is don't be fooled by the name. Lovebirds are loud, somewhat mean, they breed like crazy and live to be 105 years old. But if you are really insane and just have to have them, I've got a couple of cuties that could be all yours for the price of a song. Even a loud, tuneless, Lovebird song.