First off, this was Dave’s idea. He’s the king of fantastic ideas (I’m the queen of easy bruising and unnecessarily complex cooking experiments). It just so happens that I have a brutal amount of free time right now and a girl can only watch so much Food Network before the urge to throttle Sandra Lee becomes too much to bear. So I get to start. Sandra and her salad dressing packets are safe for now.
Dear reader,* the dapper young gentlemen up there are Marvin and Otis, our parakeets and the inspirations for the name of this blog. See, parakeets are fairly bright little creatures, but they are easily entertained. As I write this, they’re in their cage, peering at themselves in a large mirror with a green plastic fame, and singing to their reflections. What’s truly amazing is that this activity never loses its charm; it’s brand new and exciting every single time they behold the birds that visit their little cage and sing to them. The name of this game is “Hey, There’s a Bird in This Mirror!”
Turns out, that’s the name of this game, too. When we were trying to decide what our angle would be here, we found it very difficult to narrow it down. It seemed likely that, at one point or another, the urge to write about music, television, cooking, baking, film, politics, libraries, craftiness, pop culture, or useless knowledge would strike. If we tried to write only about music, or cooking, or current events, it’d only be a matter of time before Ernest Hemmingway chicken jokes** started popping up and mission creep arrived on the scene.
Instead, we’re choosing to make mission creep our mission; to embrace and celebrate the delight that we take in diversion, distraction, and the ill-defined line between the various things that are amusing us right now.
Hope you like it.
* – I don’t think I can go on without being honest with you – I’m afraid that I’m quite footnoteish and tragically inclined toward parenthesis. Years of post-secondary education and stern looks from teachers haven’t helped. Let’s try to soldier on together regardless, shall we?
We’re down here because Dave came up with the best, best, BEST literary “Why did the chicken cross the road?” the other day. Here it is -
Q – Why did the chicken cross the road?
A – Reader, I married that chicken.
If you get that, you can stay. Would you like a cup of tea before you go back up?
**A – To die. Alone. In the rain.
