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So where were the spiders, while the fly tried to break our balls?

Is there money in being the black widowmaker?


Being of near Gambit-level obsession with playing cards, I always liked the spade the best. It's very majestic, and it ultimately is just a black heart with a stick up its ass. But still, it never seemed like... me. When I was 19, I picked through the few readily available decks of cards in the house, plucked out four jacks of clubs, and decided this was who I am. The ace is the best, everybody knows who the king and queen are, but yes, I was the jack. It was the black J, just like the jack of spades, but not QUITE as important. He had all the marks and looks of *being* important, but wasn't quite there. So I took these four lesser jacks, equal parts self-deprecating, longing, inspiration, and the lingering hatred of my father who carried the same name- and shoved them away into my coat, and took them with me everywhere I went.

When Tammy and I were going out, we quickly established nicknames for each other, as most young, annoying couples do. She had dubbed me "Nerd Bird" (math and a vast knowledge of most things useless) and she became "Poopy Bear" (she would often feel poopy, as it were, and would make what I swear was the most adorable face ever when pouting.) While many adjectives would take the place of "Poopy" over the years, they eventually both just shortened to Bear and Bird. (Jason has already heard this AND the Banjo-Kazooie story.) One day, after falling for the freshly funked out street sounds of G. Love & Special Sauce, I downloaded a ton of their songs, one of which was Blackbird. Being willfully ignorant of the Beatles, I had no idea that it was a cover, but it was instantly one of the most beautiful songs I'd ever heard. Of course, I would go on to obtain the original and pretty much hate it. Since then, it's become THE cover song, as there are versions out there by Sarah McLachlan, Ani DiFranco, Foo Fighers, and Elliott Smith, but none stand up to G. Love & Special Sauce. (I apparently lost all of these when the other computer died.) I never really adopted it as my own adjective until after the fact, but this is why even now when there is no bird, there's still a Blackbird.

Me: What are you 3 doing?

Oz: We're bored.. so we dug out Othello to play...

Marianna: We invited the new chick to play too! :)

Me: You know I don't like seeing you 2 play with girls who are up for adoption. I don't want us all getting attached..

Oz: "attached" ?! I saw you brushing her hair last night when you were waiting for Guitar Hero to download a song! Isn't that "attached" ?

Me: Yah well... she looks too much like a mixture of you 2. We need to keep our family unique.

Marianna: Technically.. most children share the same DNA and look alike.. I hope no one else shares your theory out there.

Me: ..... Okay.. good point. We'll give it a few days to see if she can find a new home and if not, maybe we'll ask Aunt Ana to see her and give her a make-over so she's at least unique.

Marianna and Oz: Horray!!

New chick (unphased by the discussion): Your turn, Oz.