Wednesday, August 31, 2011

This One is Mine

Hi all. You'll be happy to know that the saga of Gilbert the Seagull has grown by one more chapter. Here's what happened:
1) Arrived at work, drank Earl Grey and pitted cherries
2) Served breakfast to the masses- Gilbert arrives late with a freshly bloody elbow (?) pursued by "his baby"- this grey one of almost equal girth. ("He's an asshole," remarked Marketa)
3) Served the artist his coffee outside. Artist cracks jokes like "nothing like a wounded seagull first thing in the morning"
4) ANCIENT mother/daughter duo from Portland arrive for their breakfast. They see the bloody seagull and start blabbing about autobahn societies, or something.
5) We witness the asshole-baby pecking the flesh from the Gilly's wound- everyone is shocked and dismayed. Arden swears like a sailor and threatens the younger with her fist. Typical (artist continues to crack ironic jokes)
6) Marketa makes up her mind, calls the SPCA like 8 times at which point it is established that we had to somehow wrassle the gull into a cardboard box and drive it down there. May I remind you that this seagull was not only enormous but also spouting blood everywhere. 
7) After about 30 minutes of  dicking around with the audience of one artist, one smoking redhead, one Tchek and this other redhead named M Gill stranded himself on the deck floor curled up against the wall (artist jokes about soaking food in whiskey to make him sleepy)
8) With a surprising and sudden spell of pure determination, artist corners bird with the cardboard box, I somewhat lamely guide it forward with a towel, artist pounces, Tchek folds the cardboard over the bird.
9) seagulls are surprisingly light.
So anyway that is probably the most exciting thing to happen to me this week. Considering last night I listened to the same song 24 times straight before waking up at 2 am to turn it off. This is the artist. 

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