I'm copy/pasting my blog, so that it might actually get read. Enjoy.


I had a rather amusing experience the other day that I thought I ought to share it with you. Well when I say amusing I speak entirely in hindsight as it was rather embarrassing at the time.

What, me embarrass myself publicly?

I know, TOTALLY out of character. That is of course, if you discount all the times I've blogged about and the one where I was accidentally "exposed" to the year sevens when I was a camp leader.

Wait. I think that last one needs some explaining.

You see, I was in year 11 and was under the naïve impression that the swimming costume I was wearing was not prone to snapping open like a hot popcorn kernel. I didn't think it was an Alcatraz for breasts, but GOD it should be able to withstand a gentle twang from behind. It turned out (rather publicly) that it couldn't. Like dam with a hairline split, it only took a small snap for the whole lot to come pouring out. Needless to say I was pretty popular with the boys for a short time there. Sure they were all 12 and 13 years old, but after that display they probably all thought they had a chance.

Why did I tell everyone that again? Oh yeah my other story, though I doubt anyone's still reading.

Anyhow, I was driving to Castle Towers when I saw an injured bird hop across 4 lanes of traffic. I don't know if this is how birds get their kicks these days, but it wasn't a very smart thing to do. Surprisingly it survived. That should have been the end of the story. Dumb creature survives stupid stunt. But no, I had to try to take the bloody thing to a vet.

So I parked in the shopping centre and went to the reject shop and asked if I could have a box to put an injured bird in. I always think that people who work in the reject shop have not been placed there by accident. More often than not they are, in fact, rejects. Or if not that, people who have had the dignity sucked out of them, leaving nothing but husks of their former being. Having said that, the person I asked kindly obliged. She didn't even drool on the box.

Moments later I was sprinting from the shopping centre, box in hand, past many people who stared on curiously. After a 5 minute jog I reached to bird who had moved next to the busy road in a strangers garden. For most people it would be that 'rivate property = game over'. Unfortunately my obviously misguided maternal instinct made me carry on.

I tried to pick up the bird, which looked like a cockatoo only it had a slight pink tinge instead of yellow and a beak that could literally rip your face off (it's called a Corella if your interested). I reached for it, it hissed at bit at me, then waddled away. I, slightly miffed, waddled after it. People in their cars leant out of their windows and smirked as they drove by (amused at the obvious victory the bird was claiming). The owner of the house whose garden I was trampling in probably called the cops. Though not willing to be beaten by my avian foe, I made a daring lunge for it.

Dear GOD how the thing screamed.

It was like someone had filled a room full of cats and then proceeded to walk on them in golf shoes. Frankly I was terrified. But even though it was making scary noises I somehow I managed to get it in the box. I did take a moment to count all my fingers, however (each one was present, thankfully).

I triumphantly crept back to the shopping centre, box in hand. People who had previously seen me run past like hell was chasing me, now watched as I moved stealthily past holding the box like it contained a bomb. They where even more alarmed when my box started screaming. I pretended like I couldn't hear anything and assumed as natural a walk as I could.

I would have liked to go to the car at this point, but unfortunately the lid wasn't secured and there was NO way I was driving it to the vet at the risk that it might escape. I am CERTAIN it would have gone straight for the eyes. So back into the shopping centre I went, screeching box in hand. The noise was so bad people where poking their heads out of shops to try and see what was going on. I tried to look as confused too, so that I might be less conspicuous. It didn't work.

So back I go the reject shop and hope that they can spare some sticky tape. I managed to communicate what I needed with the clerk, though we both had to shout to be heard over the angry creature. In the meantime, people started abandoning their shopping and walking out of their aisles to stare at me. As I was leaving to the car park, I had a crowd of people staring at me.

Thankfully I managed to drive the BASTARD to the vet with no further drama. It's rather ironic, really that the greatest danger on it's life ended up being whether or not I was to personally wring it's neck.

That's all for now, folks

Steph.

Oh yeah, I saw Cloverfield and it was awesome.