Birds Do It

I changed my mind. I don't hate parades per se (but I do hate when I say per se). I had a fun time at Gay Pride yesterday. It was a lot more mellow than last year and the kids along the route got a big kick out of the 1951 fire truck. The adults got a big kick out of our chants (like: "Hey Hey, Ho Ho, safer sex is the way to go!"). I skidattled on out of there and headed off to Monterey for fun in the sun (hey, that is the name of the color I painted my room this weekend!). It was sunny but incredibly windy. See how Dokey is all bundled up? See how my Mom has to squint and our hair is dishevelled? Poor Double B was all tuckered out from a nasty cold so he got in a nap. My mom's dog Oliver is a massive Golden Retriever puppy (almost one year). He used to look like this. And me? Well, I am full on freckle face after all that fun in the sun.

As the fam was sitting around, I brought up the fact that I had never given any thought to how birds procreate before yesterday when JB and Supple and I were soaking up some sun in the backyard. As we were sitting there, we witnessed a little mating ritual among the pigeons on the electrical wires. I am a bitdisconcerted to admit it but, I had no idea that a) birds had penises (really, they do?!) or b) that they did it from behind. I guess I had never thought of it. My mind is clearly over-run with many other more important topics. And clearly, I didn't pay much attention to this subject in school. While discussing this with my family, our conversation went something like this:

Double B: "Eagles mate in the air and sometimes if they don't finish in time, they crash into land and die."
Me: "That is some strange kind of bird-like auto-erotic asphyxiation."
My mother: "No wonder the eagle population is so endangered."

This explains a lot about my beloved family. I am always laughing with them. Speaking of family, check out the Tomato and his latest installment from Flab to Fab.