So I was going to write this whole post about how my head smells like a coconut now because I ran out of my usual shampoo and had to use the girly stuff and it was called "Shea Butter" and I don't even know what the fuck that even is, and now I feel like Gilligan because I washed my hair in something coconut. But that was before new evidence came to light and I had to rapidly change my blogging agenda to address this very important information, because I am fluid and dynamic like the majestic Narwal, swimming the cold Arctic waters searching for a meaning to this, this great puzzle we call life. And also for someone to stab because I'm an effing whale with a horn, and if you don't think that is the bee's knees than you are drunker than I am. Which seems highly unlikely.
Turns out the Hillbilly neighbors have a box of duck.
When The Boy told me, I had to have him repeat it.
Me: They have a box of..?
Me: A box of ducks.
Boy: Yeah. A box of ducks.
Me: You mean...like actual...
Boy: Ducks. Yeah. The box doesn't have a lid though. The ducks can get out.
Me: So they just walk around in the apartment,
Boy: Yeah. They're cute. Except their poop is weird. Have you seen duck poop?
Me: Yeah. It's green and slimy. Let's get back to the ducks though.
Boy: Okay. There are six I think. Three adults and three baby ducks.
Me: And they just spend their day getting in and out of their box?
Boy: Dad. They're just ducks. Not landmines.
And so it went for pretty much the whole morning because I am fascinated by the concept of keeping forest animals in corrugated cardboard, and who the hell thinks ducks are good to have in an apartment? and The Boy says sometimes they bring the duck box outside so they can play in the lawn and I don't know how I feel about the concept of "playing" with a duck, because I'm pretty sure they aren't built for play like a dog is. I mean when I think of "playing with a duck" I think of some dirty kid trying to poke his finger up the duck's asshole. And that's not playing. That's bestiality.
And I think about calling the SPCA on them, and then I think maybe the World Wildlife Fund because they have such a cool panda on their logo, and then I think about calling Captain Planet, but then I remember he's not real so shut up, and then I think about calling for a pizza because all this thinking about ducks is hard work and I'm starving and then I see that a re-run of an NCIS is on, and I hate Mark Harmon when he's not in Summer School and I sit there and watch the whole episode all "Pfffft! Right! Like that would ever happen!" and then it's over and I realize I just sat through ANOTHER show I hate for the sake of hating it and I wonder if that is NCIS's core demographic. People who hate NCIS and watch it to hate it more. And...wait...what was I supposed to be doing. Something about ducks. (*shrugs*)