Four babies, or possibly only three, two angry bird parents: We’re being held hostage over here by four or five robins.

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“YOU SHOULD SEE HOW MUCH WE’VE CRAPPED ON THEIR DECK. HEH HEH. CAN’T FLY YET, BUT WE CAN LIFT OUR TINY BIRD ASSES AND POOP LIKE DEMONS.”

“THE NEIGHBOR’S WORTHLESS. HARDLY ANY STRAWBERRIES LEFT. WELL, SINCE WE’VE EATEN THEM ALL.”

“FUCKING HATE THE CAT.”

Price for crappy vinyl storm windows: Expensive, but not exorbitant.

Price for decent wood frame storm windows that go nicely with our home’s double hung vintage windows and fit with era of house: Too much money to discuss.

Next question?

Just heard from a survey company, calling to check and see how our job went. The job that took four months to complete. The job that nearly crushed my frickin’ legs. The painter whose work day was one long break at my dining room table. Reading my paper. Glaring at me when I walked through my dining room.

Yeah, that one.

“Mrs. Wacky? Do you have a few moments to complete a survey regarding Construction Co. from Hell?”

I could have said, “Yeah, THEY’RE ASSHOLES.” Or whatever else came to mind, but what came to mind was, “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

Caller, “Oh. All right then.” And she hung up.

Internet, I love having a shower that works. It is righteous. But really, do I have to send back the “Certificate of Completion” they’re insisting I sign?

I’m waiting ’til four months are up.

Make the Connection is sending out free bead bracelet kits to help educate the public about the link between HPV and cervical cancer. I dislike pharmaceutical companies about as much as the rest of you — except when they’re up against the religious right and fighting to get a much-needed vaccine on the market. And on the list of vaccines required by schools.

“I am not relegous,” I wrote in my journal as a Wacky Girl, age 9. I am not especially “relegous” now, especially when assholes like Bridget Maher are mouthing off.

“Giving the HPV vaccine to young women could be potentially harmful,” Bridget Maher of the Family Research Council told the British magazine New Scientist, “because they may see it as a license to engage in premarital sex.”

Yeah. Right. Anyway. And for the love of God, don’t give ’em any rubbers, cuz “something bad” might happen. Off soapbox. Here’s an article, if you’re interested, by Katha Pollitt of the Nation, titled “Virginity or Death!” Do some research, stay informed and talk to your kids. Talk, talk, talk.

HPV reportedly is not preventable by condoms. Tell them this.

Tell them to use rubbers anyway. And fight for this vaccine.

Thank you. This public service announcement brought to you by…

Wacky Mommy

“C’MERE I’LL EAT YOU!”

He rilly rilly wants a nibble of a baby birdie. There are four, I counted. Mama keeps divebombing Wacky Naked Neighbor whenever she goes out into her driveway. (WNN is generally fully clothed at the time.)

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Now, Miss Zoot must know that I’m all about free stuff. Free bamboo knitting needles! (Aka, chopsticks.) Yes. Free passes to the movies. Gift certificates = free. So she and her readers are winning all this damn stuff and I’m thinking, “I want some damn free stuff!” Don’t you? Click on the little “win with me on Blingo” icon over there. Not there — there. See it? OK. Then we will win together, yay!

(Also, Zoot and her husband, all dressed up, soooo cute.)

(Also, Happy Father’s Day to all the dads, but especially Hockey God. We love you, buddy! Aren’t you glad the Edmonton Oilers KICKED HOCKEY ASS! Yeah, Game 7, wooooooo-hooooooooooooooooo!)

“YO YO BABY, WHAT’S UP?”

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One sunny Saturday afternoon a few weeks back we noticed a mommy robin building a nest above the light fixutures on our deck, below the eaves. She was in a pretty big hurry, spazzing and throwing twigs and twine all over the place. (“Flap your wings/just like a birdie!” The Wiggles.) Barking at us when we went out on the deck. Didn’t seem to mind the dog or notice the cats. (But they sure noticed her, from inside the patio door. Bird TV.)

Hockey God was not pleased. The deck was a mess, all littered with debris. “Does she even know what she’s doing?” She started on the light on the right side, then switched to the light on the left. Was looking a little confused. Settled on the left. Flew off. Back. Off. Back.

I told the kids, “We can’t use the light til the babies are gone!” and covered the switch with masking tape.

There is no stopping a robin who’s feathering her nest, and she did know what she was doing! Pretty soon she had mudded up a nice new little condo for herself and the family.

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The thing about blogs is you have to blog, my Wacky Cousin tells me. Huh. The thing about blogs is that however everyone else is doing is how I start doing. The readers, the other bloggers, the Internet in general. I am impressionable like that. So we’ve all been in something of a funk lately. What with summeritis, jobs changing (I’m starting school to get my real estate license), my Wacky Cousin being beautiful with her big baby belly (I start FEELING PREGNANT just being around her. See? Impressionable.), school getting out, BlogHer ’06 (I’m not going and am sulking), being in a “bad-ish place”, getting our pictures taken with Andrew Shue, sigh, “screwing up the world one baby at a time”, etc.

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Love this one. My next car needs to be a lowrider.