~The pretty stuff from St. George~
So did I mention that I have an "alarming" Vitamin D deficiency? Yup. Dr. told me. So much so, in fact, that they called in a prescription to be filled immediately and I have to have another check on my numbers in a few weeks. And here are the symptoms of said deficiency~lethargy, depression, fatigue, muscle aches and pains...etc. Which is pretty much the disease called January through May.
Now here are the side effects of the supplement~lethargy, depression, fatigue, muscle aches and pains...oh, and one other...con-sti-pa-tion. So basically, you trade in one batch of crappo symptoms for the identical batch of crappo side effects, and it's a wash. Except for that last highly desirable one.
Also, my sister, Nicki, just facebooked me to scream that she had to order bi-focals, as lately, we've both had this condition that we refer to as "wormy vision" or "maggot eyeballs." See, after focusing on something close for a few minutes, and then averting our gaze to out there, we noticed squirmo wormo lines all over the out there vicinity. Kind of like baby maggots. Thus, our condition. Anyway, she decided to fix it, without realizing the fix would entail "SERIOUSLY? IS THIS REALLY NECESSARY?!" glasses. I myself have picked out a nice pair of rose colored shades called denial, and will embrace my nightcrawler world for as long as I need to, in order to keep that reading glasses chain from choking the youth out of me.
Anyway, this growing old is for the birds. And not just any bird, but food grubbing scavengers. Or Sesame Street Bert's favorite~portly, perching, pooping pigeons. That's right. I'd give the curse of growing old to a pigeon any day, because they're a stinkin' thorn in our side right now. We have a batch of welfare recipients who've taken over our colonial pillars and invite their Hippie Ding Dong pigeon friends to "come crash at my pad." They're squatters. Squatters as in they've taken up residence, and squatters as in they squat over the edge of the pillars and take a daily dribbling dump onto the porch area below. We kind of hate them.
We've tried to sour the milk, as in we put blocks of wood on top of their ledge. Did you know pigeons can perch on one leg, teeter on a half inch platform and fall asleep? Well, they can. So then we got a plastic owl to frighten them. Did you know that pigeons consider plastic owls a toilet, too? Well, they do. Then we got our neighbors giant bird catching net and tried MULTIPLE times to sneak up and ensnare it. Did you know pigeons can sense giant bird catching nets being wielded by angry, less-than-graceful husbands, and all they have to do is flap a wing and they suddenly rise into the air and out of reach? Well, it's true.
Anyway, pretty much we've decided to kill them.
But now that I think about it, maybe the wiser thing to do is to curse them with the old age hex, and watch them self destruct. Just imagine how much better for us it would be if they became near AND far sighted, constipated and fatigued! Throw in a batch of Vitamin D deficiency and they'll get so depressed and achy, they'll waste away their days whining, rubbing their necks, and patting around their bird-bodies for their "readers."
"I swear, I just set those stupid things down, and somebody...SOMEBODY KEEPS MOVING MY STUFF! If people would just leave my stuff where I put my stuff, then I wouldn't have to WASTE AWAY MY WHOLE PIGEON LIFE LOOKING FOR WHERE SOMEBODY KEEPS PUTTING MY STUFF." (shuffle, neck rub and darting pigeon eyes)
I think we're onto something here folks. Scientists and Black Magic Hexers, start looking into that, will you? In the meantime, I'll go take my pills...now where did I leave that bottle? SOMEBODY put it away somewhere. Have to SAVE ME FROM MYSELF...if I'd WANTED my pills put AWAY, I'd have DONE IT...people always puttin' my stuff places I don't WANT my stuff.......(shuffle, neck rub and darting maggot eyeballs...)