The husband got me this top recently. Believe it or not, it's actually for a man. A small man, but a man nonetheless. I suppose this makes it a shirt, as we all know that real men don't wear tops or eat quiche. Anyway, it came from Amazon, which is fitting because it looks like a collage from an enchanted rain forest. I say enchanted because I imagine that real rain forests are more Animal Planet than Magic Kingdom, unphotogenic and gruesome in their circle of life-ness. Even if "Circle of Life" was a song in The Lion King. Because if anyone can put a good spin on death, then it's Disney.
In keeping with the parrot theme, here's my old pal Randall. But for the purposes of this post, I'll call him, or rather her (because if I can wear a dude's shirt, then he can certainly change genders), Polly. And Polly most definitely does not want a cracker. Or a slacker. So, no rum or Jimmy Buffett. Or rum made by Jimmy Buffet. She also doesn't want a passel of insects or whatever it is that parrots eat. What she really craves is a buttery brioche topped with a fresh slice of mango. She's a discerning one, my precious Polly, demanding only the best from the island's buffet. Not to be confused, of course, with the island's best Buffett.
Cheeseburger in paradise or not, his kind's not welcome here.