And As You Can See By My ID Card I Am In Fact A Grown Adult And So I Am Very Allowed To Watch This R-rated

“And as you can see by my ID card I am in fact a grown adult and so I am very allowed to watch this R-rated movie.”

“You two forgot your trenchcoat.”

“... ... SHIT”

no update today, i spent a lot of time at what has turned into my actual for real pays human dollars job this weekend. as a result i am too exhausted to dig into the vastly disorganized pile of cardboard boxes filled to the brim with field data and marginally-legible summarizations of other research written on scraps of fast food wrappers, an assortment of used napkins, and the interiors of empty cigarette packets, all of which comprise the sum total of all knowledge here at The Academy of Bird Sciences. by way of an apology, please enjoy the above photographs depicting the before and current state of the greenhouse.

A common sight at birdfeeders and city parks, Eastern Gray Squirrels are flightless cousins to the more familiar Rock Pigeon, as attested by their soft, downy feathers and remarkably expressive eyes. Introduced to large cities across the country in an attempt to teach urban children to be kind to all birds no matter their handicap, these wingless avians have thrived upon the inherent generosity and kindness of citydwellers. Next time you swing through a city park, remember to bring some fresh green beans or apple slices to share!

Renowned the world over for their preternaturally calm demeanour, Capybaras are often assigned as companion dogs to people with anxiety disorders. While there have been no formal studies as to the efficacy of these chilled-out canine assistants, anecdotal evidence suggests they have a fairly significant anxiolytic effect. Above, a Capybara companion sits and waits with their assigned human (a backpacker with agoraphobia) while they tie their shoelaces.

Masterful storytellers, Blue-eyed Shags are sought out the world over for their creativity and narrative sensibility. While very few of their tales have ever been traditionally published, their most resonant stories are often adapted by other species into culturally-appropriate versions. Unfortunately, these poet-inclined Phalacrocoracidae are rarely monetarily compensated for their creative effort or editing expertise; instead they offered vague assurances that the exposure will be “like, totally worth the same as cash”.

Above: a Shag parent tells the ancient morality play of the Three Little Shags and the Big Bad Skua, which is at it’s core an allegorical lesson about the legal protections and enforceability offered by verbal agreements, napkin-backed contracts, and notarized terms and conditions.

“I still don’t understand what the problem is” blithes the Waxwing. “Just go to the ████████! No one is stopping you.”

You pause, attempting vainly to figure out how to explain that anxiety does not work that way, how incredibly overwhelming the world is even when you are able to cope with it, how you have been trying your best all of this time, and how utterly broken you feel that your best is barely, barely equivalent to a ‘normal’ person having an off day. You wonder why you had to deal with the indignity of this conversation in the first place; Jules is only out of town for a weekend, you should have been able to pick up your stuff in peace. Your ex’s mom acting as a housesitter was the last thing you expected. Or wanted.

You sigh.

“Look,” you begin, “I appreciate that you’ve always been supportive of me, but I really don’t feel like I can do this right now.” You pause to try and search for the right words but find only the deep well of shame and sadness trying to fight their way back into control. You try to head them off at the pass: “I’m sorry. Thank you for the tea and for helping me pack. Thank you. I’m sorry.”

You leave.