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@thebyrdwatch-blog
Agent Doug Turgidi sends his rookie partner, Agent Ted 'Al' Bundy on a haywire foot chase after a tranny through Downtown Hell 'A'. Why?! Wherefore?! What mysterious secrets does this athletic cross dresser hold for Bundy if he catches he, she, it? In the meantime, Agent Turgidi continues his search for the sexual terrorist, The Rogue BYRD- the female vigilante responsible for the gruesome kills by-kicks-to-the-balls deaths of numerous sleazy men in DTHA.
ByrdWatching? More like TurdWatching.
Daily Blog: Andy Hanson February 22, 2011
I'm done. Done! I am no longer going to allow myself to be exploited by Karen Prism and FEM. I'M THROUGH!! No longer will I play John to her Ponch. Goddamn her. It's too demeaning.
I'm not supporting myself by running a weenie cart and donning my weenie beanie every morning simply for a lark. I don't sling cylindrical-shaped pork products at tourists for pure enjoyment. I do it because it allows to me to pursue my real passion, being a dynamic, on-the-spot videographer. BUT!!! I can't do that when I'm being mislead!
Prism promises BIG pay-offs for exposing this, ByrdWatch outfit but her professional bias is brightly, shining through because she's had a history with this asshole, Turd-idi! Fucking asshole. He broke my camera. That's WHY we don't have the footage from the other night. He muffed it up. Not because of my error like Prism contends.
Regardless, she can't separate herself from the story. All we do for long hours every night is try and tail that (fucking) asshole. I see how excited she gets when we find him after a while. Seriously excited. He's her drug. She's high when we find him and when he leaves, the comedown hits and she becomes sullen and withdrawn and begins to criticize me. She starts to nitpick everything. Imagine, the one guy that would even deign to help her out in this quixotic campaign and she treats me so shabbily. At least she buys me a combo meal at any fastfood joint of my choosing.
We've seen Turd-idi sleep in his car too. Hah. That piece of crap T-Bird. One night, he brought a lady "home." I have footage of that too;) Prism decided to take over camera duties then. She didn't say a word the entire night. Just...stared, glassy-eyed.
Word is something sometime ago happened between those two but then someone came between them. She's cryptically hinted at Turd-idi having some bizarre fetishes. Something SHE couldn't handle? Hmm
What the hell does she see in that creep? He's uncouth, a slob and looks like a poor mans David Arquette. Well, who cares? I'm never working with her again. And, yes I know, I know, I said that after the last incident and I came back to her but THIS time, it's for real! I've always got my weenie cart to fall back on..although sales have been declining...and I did have to buy a new camera....
Goddamn her. Next time, NEXT time is the last time I work with her...I NEED that combo meal...
Keep BYRDwatching at http://www.youtube.com/user/BYRDwatchTV?feature=mhum
BYRDwatch Episode 1 Part 3: "Training Night"
BYRDwatch Bureau of Investigation Agent Doug Turgidi has just met his new partner, rookie BBI Agent Ted "Al" Bundy, and he isn't impressed. But the two must now work together to find the Rogue BYRD, the female vigilante murdering men in Downtown Hell "A" by kicking them in the nuts. Can they learn to co-BYRdwatch or will mass male castrations ensue?
Keep BYRDwatching at: http://www.youtube.com/user/BYRDwatchTV?feature=mhum
MY GREAT BALLS ON FIRE BYRDlog: Doug Turgidi, Agent of BYRDwatch 2115HRS
I don't know what got into me. But I do know what may have gotten out- My gonads. I deduced that the Rogue BYRD, the violent female vigilante going around castrating Joes in Downtown Hell "A" with her leather heeled Weapon of Mass De-nutting might have links to the underground kicks-to-the-balls fetish community. So I went undercover.
My identity hid by a ski mask, I entered a not too non-descript S&M dungeon in East LA set up in the back of a carniceria. Ironically, it was adjacent to an Iglesia de Jesucristo that was holding a service at 930p on a Tuesday night (Probably to pray for all the sinners who wanted to be next door in the balls bondage party).
I have never been so pleased to be anonymous. I just went in there to ask a couple of questions and ended up spread eagle and tied in ancient japanese knots of shame. And pleasure. And pain. And pleasure. If any one at the BYRD Bureau saw or heard my screams, I'd have to go work for F.E.M. Karen Prism would love to get in on this.
I didn't find leads on the Rogue BYRD. But I did find my mistress...Her name was KellyKicksBalls and my nuts were the altar her leather moon boots came to worship repeatedly. Maybe I lost interest in snooping for clues when I saw all that tight leather atop even tighter alabaster flesh. She had an accent- coulda been Austrian. Or Australian. I started to ask and she slapped my face off. I think that's how it started-My EBT card was removed from my wallet and knowing I wouldn't eat for two weeks did make me hesitate. But I was curious. I'd never known such arousal being dominated by a woman. She grabbed me hard by the funsack and pulled me into a room closer to the prayer service next door. I started singing when she did that. I was almost in tune with Spanish chorale being sung next door. Not that I cared- I had my on canto that I was being divinely inspired to orate in staccato spurts as her boot connected to my crotch. Alot nauseated, I started begging her to stop. She just laughed as my vision blurred between tears and stars of dizziness. Then she turned on the digi-cam and told me I was going to be in her Rogue's Gallery on YouTube. WTF?! Why'd I let KellyKicksBalls tie me up and kick me in the nuts? Why hadn't I let her do it earlier?!
That's when I knew that the Rogue BYRD would never come here. This dungeon was a church- not unlike the one on the other side of the wall- for those who sought the sacrament of absolution through scrotum flagellation. I had sinned in keeping my balls to myself and mistress- no my goddess - had come to save me from my selfish ways. The Rogue BYRD was no savior. She was a sexecutioner. An avenging angel of a long forgotten demi-succubus of man haterdom that no other woman, no matter their gripes with men, adored.
KellyKicksBalls' finishing move culminated in one perfect moment. A perfect kick. A perfect kiss of pain and pleasure. A moment of white light. I think I met God. If God is in the Hillside Trece gang and meets you in the alley behind the butcher's with a host of his apostles with tats of Apostles on their shoulders and chests. Yeah that was Him then. He's tough. He took what was left in my wallet and told me I should try the Iglesia de Jesucristo next time as it'd be more pain with less expense.
I limped back to the padded comfort of the Byrdmobile and drove off in a half-waking state, seeking Aspirin, a therapist, and seeing double visions of tiny twin KellyKicksBalls on my dashboard gyrating like a Hawaiian Hulu girl Bobble head wearing black leather stone-stompers...I couldn't wait to get home and YouTube myself.
Turgidi out!
Keep BYRDwatching at http://www.youtube.com/user/BYRDwatchTV?feature=mhum
THE TURD F.E.M.log: Karen Prism, Freelance F.E.M. Reporter 2:17 am
I've been tossing and turning all night thinking about that loser, Doug Turgidi- aka Dirty Turd, aka the Turdbirdler, aka The Man of a Thousand Turds. God, if the Rogue BYRD had only crushed his nuts it'd be a good start. And to top it off, Andy Hanson, my enthusiastic but not-too-bright camera man didn't have tape in his camera. So we didn't get the scoop for Female Empowered Media on the super sleazy organization Turgidi works for. This BBI. This BYRDwatch Bureau of Investigation. They protect women they say. But I know any outfit that'd have the Turginator as a member's no good.
And to think at one time Turgidi actually put butterflies in my belly- when his dashing Han Solo-esq, attitude made all the co-eds want to fly away with him to the Dagobah system in his Millennium Falcon. Just thinking about his rippling chest and flowing mullet makes me feel disgustingly...aroused. I can almost see him walking in slow motion in tight acid wash jeans and looking my way- No! I'm not ruining my jade silk teddy with matching g-string, and my invitingly soft satin sheets on the likes of him. No matter if it is Valentine's Day; the day we met... No! That was a long time ago in a university far far away. Now all Turd Solo's got is a broken down T-bird he calls the BYRDmobile. Gay. Gay in so many ways.
I'm going to break the BYRDwatch story if it kills me. But hopefully it'll be over Turgidess's dead body instead. Nobody hurts m- nobody mistreats women, objectifies them, marginalizes them and gets away with it.
Power to the F.E.M.!
K Prism.
Keep BYRDwatching at http://www.youtube.com/user/BYRDwatchTV?feature=mhum
She's a Lady...Byrd.
BYRDlog: Doug Turgidi, Agent of BYRDwatch 1825 hours
I wouldn't be able to cover as much territory with as much efficiency if it wasn't for LadyByrd. Who's LadyByrd, you ask? Why, that's my name for the Byrdmobile. That's right, my car has a name...ok, so it has TWO names but LadyByrd is my special, intimate name for her.
I don't think of her as a car. To me, she's another beautiful byrd. I imagine when we're together that I'm on her back and she's carrying me around all over the place. Take into account her age, wear and tear and various fluid leaks, it's as if she's got a bad back, arthritis and diarrhea and STILL she carries me around. And I love her for it.
I thank her for it by treating her as I would any byrd.
I treat her gently. I make sure all of Ladys fluids are at the right levels. I lovingly probe her instrument panel for the right switch or button for the appropriate moment, of course. I tenderly wash her with a soft, soapy sponge. And I gleefully empty her trunk of flotsam and jetsam when necessary.
I also occasionally take her in to be done right by a group of guys who poke and prod her for an hour sticking electrodes on her and inserting various measuring instruments into her. I always reassure her that it's for her own good and that I'm here for her. In the corner. Watching. If anyone gets out of hand.
She's more than a byrd, though. She's also a mother. The nights I've had to sleep in LadyByrd, I felt like I was back in the womb. But less veiny and fluidy. As I fell asleep in fetal position, I felt protected, safe...loved.
She's the longest relationship I've had with a woman. That includes my wife. I've done things with her I haven't even attempted with my wife. Some bonds are unexplainable...
Doug out!
Keep BYRDwatching at http://www.youtube.com/user/BYRDwatchTV?feature=mhum
BYRDwatch Bureau of Investigation, Agent Doug Turgidi continues his hunt for the Rogue BYRD, the male-bashing female vigilante that kills sleazy men by kicking them in the nuts. Investigating the newest crime scene, Turgidi runs into a snag in the case- Karen Prism, freelance reporter for Female Empowered Media (F.E.M.) Prism's ultimate dream is to become a respected reporter by exposing the BBI as stalkers - instead of a bureau of nice guys who protect women from the shadows. Will Turgidi keep F.E.M. in the dark? Or is this lights out for the BBI?
Keep BYRDwatching at: http://www.youtube.com/user/BYRDwatchTV
Hotel Egypt
BYRDlog: Ted 'Al' Bundy 2350 HRS
Affordable housing in the Hotel Egypt is all I could afford after being robbed blind at the Benchmark. I went from a $265 a night room at the Benchmark that was 500 sq ft to a $416 a month 100 sq foot jail cell in the Egypt. But where the Benchmark Hotel was on the outskirts of Hell "A", Hotel Egypt is smack dab in it. Like its nexus. Y'know how the hotel in Ghostbusters has an unholy doorway to the other side? Hotel Egypt's got an M.C. Escher's painting worth of doorways to the dark side of Downtown living. And oooh yeah. This one hundred and four year old girl is haunted. By real and figurative ghosts.
Hotel Egypt's where Hollywood's silver age celebrities dined. And died. And never crossed over. It feels like the Valentinos, Capones, Chaplins, and Pickfords are still roaming the halls alongside the hotel's current tenants of artists, actors, singers, veterans, burn outs, pros and pervs. A likely bunch.
I found out Umberto Sanchez, her last victim, lived here. She, of course, being the Rogue BYRD. That's what my target whom I've been tracking is called Downtown. I'd think of less pleasant names for her, but at least I've picked up her trail. But not before being marked a narc at the local dive bar; I had to work hard and fast to prove I was just a square from out of town named Mara Djbuti before anyone would try to con me at the tables.
This bar, The Pronated Arch, is one of three located in the hotel. Way to keep your patients medicated. At least the pool tables were level and free, the beer was cheap and the joint was populated with a slew of colorful locals that I could question.
Word is, I need to investigate the Tunnel of Love. That's where Umberto Sanchez made his last stand. And kneel. And fall to prostration while grabbing his cojones. Will report in when I learn more. I'm going to work on the drunk routine again. I know. I know. Stay clear of tequila and Korean women.
Bundy out.
Keep BYRDwatching at http://www.youtube.com/user/BYRDwatchTV?feature=mhum
SUPER BOWL-ed
BYRDlog: Doug Turgidi, Agent of BYRDwatch 0230 Hrs
The Rogue BYRD's kicked a Steelers superfan to death outside of BIG WINGS at closing time. Victim: Johnson, Daryl. I guess parading around with Roethlisberger painted on his bare back wasn't the smartest scoring strategy with a violent female serial killer trolling Downtown Hell "A".
Funny. Noone saw the murder. Though the bouncers and a few of the mortified patrons heard the kick-off of Johnson's nuts. They agree there were two distinct high pitched screams, punctuated with a wet sappy-like bursting sound.
I can only assume the first yell was the Rogue BYRD's war cry. The sappy bursting had to be Johnson's nuts making a double field goal as the Byrd put two points on the board for the Chargers when she punted Johnson between his leg posts. The latter high pitched scream had to be Johnson grabbing his...Johnson, as he was getting placed in the soprano section of God's choir in heaven. At least he's got a good seat for Sunday's game.
A betting man would say that this isn't about the Rogue BYRD being a Chargers fan who wanted to suppress the opposition with extreme prejudice (Hopefully not- I got two large riding on the Steelers). I'm thinking she saw Daryl Johnson hitting on one girl or another and profiled him as a stalker. That's her M.O. right? She only kills men who harass women. Or pee on walls. So he could also have drunk pee-ed somewhere and pissed her off. Who knows with this female wack-a-doo?!
I do know that this close to the Christmas Day of Football, Johnson's murder is going to make business slow and erections trigger shy in DTHA. The Rogue BYRD's gotta be benched. Now.
My boss at the BYRD Bureau, the Owl, he's been breathing down my back. Asking if he needs to send me some help. I've done this job forever without backup thank you ( I hate his guts). Hmmmm.....The idea of the BYRD kicking out football style's given me a new alley to walk up.
Keep BYRDwatching at http://www.youtube.com/user/BYRDwatchTV?feature=mhum
I'M STILL HERE
BYRDlog Ted "Al" Bundy 1947 Hrs
Ow. Assessment: Owwwww. Okay. Okay. Don't assess so loudly, Bundy. Thoughts hurt. Okay, assessment; body seems whole but butt, stomach, and head pained. Excruciating pain. Assessment- hangover? Mind scraped by gremlins. Must be what a hangover feels like. Nothing like movie. Thoughts coming out like hard turds. What the hell?!!?...Tequila is the fucking devil.
I've lost most of a day and my $265 room's trashed. Oh, and Esther Kwan and my wallet's gone. She drank me under the coffee table. I didn't get any from her. No sex or info on the girl I'm after. I'm seeing green- with anger and vomit. the vomit's on the bed and under the coffee table. The anger is about being schooled by a pro. Shit, this place- This Hell "A" is no joke.
Gotta turn off the tilted over t.v. Joaquin Phoenix is rapping on it and trying to figure out if it's an act or not is giving me the greatest non-pleasure. But it does remind me of me. I tried to bring fire into the Devil's woodyard and got burnt. How could I pretend to be drunk having never drank? How could I be a detective having never detected? I'm in way over my head. I can't do this. I can't be sleuth. I'm going to get killed. I'm going to die. I'm going to throw up again...
I threw up again. But only after checking my bank account. I'm broke. The bitch robbed me. I gotta get out of the Benchmark. Now I'm in the thick of things. No turning back. There is no going back. I'm still here. I'm still here. I can find her. I wonder if I can find Esther Kwan too.....
Keep BYRDwatching at http://bit.ly/BYRDwatchTV
NEO-NEANDERTHALS
BYRDlog: The ROGUE BYRD 1347 Hrs
I don't hate men. I just don't like 'em. For centuries the hairier sex has put their sweaty balls on our necks and called them fuzzy grapes. Well I guess that's why I started making grape juice. To make 'em whine!!
Alot of lady-byrds out there think what I'm doing is wrong- Kicking these neo-neanderthals in the nuts- making 'em primal scream. But if women's glib had balls, I'd kick 'em in the nuts too. Don't they understand what I'm doing?!
Sometimes I feel like Kaiser Soze in Se7en. That the WOW (World Of Women) won't get my whole mistress plan until men start protecting their crotches before they ever get a good groin going over-Pavloved into averting their eyes by the very sight of our twitching hips. That man-unkind will bow their heads and cross the street any time a women walks their way. That the only cats they'd feel free to call would be their Aunt Jenny's kitty stuck in a tree. That they'd sit and pee. That in the future, Oprah will OWN the universe and men will only be used as sperm dispensers.
So until then, I strike from the shadows in the scummiest part of town. Hell 'A'. Where women are repeatedly victimized and marginalized and every other 'ized' you can think of that's not great. Until then, I'm spreading Oprah, queen of the universe's message in my ministry of pain. Protect your nuts, men. When you hear my screech, it's probably time for you to primal scream into the afterlife!!
The Rogue BYRD Byrwatches you at http://bit.ly/BYRDwatchTV
INFILTRATION
BYRDlog: TED 'AL' BUNDY 1.29.11
2124 Hrs THE BENCHMARK HOTEL LOBBY- Tonight I'm undercover as Erick Thackrar and I'm faking drunkenness while playing pool alone at some passe post modern hotel where I got a room as my base of operations to infiltrate Downtown Hell "A". Don't know why they call this place hell, though. Doesn't seem too hellish. Just tacky. Except for the price tag. At $265 a night, I'm going to have to find a new base of operations soon. I could last a month here on my budget. Yet it may be a while before I find the girl. The girl who stole my loved ones from me....Weird place, this Benchmark Hotel. Its name's topsy turvy and the over loud electronic music is made more annoying, playing to this empty lobby. There's nobody here to buy into my cover. Damn. Where's the action? Where's that girl? Where are you girl?!...
2245 Hrs THE BENCHMARK HOTEL ROOFTOP BAR- Here we go. I followed a festive crowd that looked like they knew what was up. They did. And it was up. On the roof. Look at all the stylish twenty-singles sluts throwing snatch and bro-rangers eager to catch it. Ahh..the Saturday nightly wrangling ritual. Pathetic. These kids should be at home studying Jersey Shore highlights. They're giving these girls way too much attention. Look at me, dorks, look at me. Riding solo, vibe-ing to the tunes, looking at Mad Max: Road Warrior being projected onto the adjacent building's side-Did Lord Humongous go to RADA? He's doing some serious post apocalyptic Shakespeare. Regardless, dude's one bad mother...Oh hey. Waitaminute. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa....I think I just...Yeah. I just eye-lasso-ed a fine lil' filly....And she's coming over. Okay. Be cool, Esse, be cool. She looks like a good great lead to pump for information. I hope she doesn't think I'm buying her a drink...
2401 Hrs...No longer faking being drunk. Am drunk. Esther Kwan. The filly. Esther Kwan the Korean filly. She filled my head with tequila. I never had a drink that taste so bad. I never had a drink. She keeps laughing. She's got a great smile and she's short and I'm tall and she has a nice everything. She keeps laughing. And I keep buying. That's the deal. Somehow...
Now I don't remember my cover name. I don't remember my real name. Brandy. Bandagy. No, it's Bunny. Yes... Bundy. First name, Ted. Al, nickname. Like on TV...
Oh God, Esther Kwan. You're so hat. I mean, hot. I need a hat. To throw up in. I have a $265 a night room to pump you for information. I need my stomach pumped. We're leaving the roof. She's pulling me down through the topsy turvy Benchmark Hotel. Through muted muddle lighting. Through art deco crappitecture. O God, to whom my atheistic soul chooses to believe in at the hour of my death by tequila, forgive me for failing to find the girl. But I have found out I am indeed in hell. And it is post modern and pre post-apocalyptic.....
Giving Back
BYRDtime: 1900 Hours Thursday Jan. 27th, 2011
Anyone who knows Douglas Turgidi would say that he spends all of his time Byrdwatching. And they’d be right. Only that’s not totally right. What little time I don’t spend Byrdwatching, I spend giving back.
I give ANY and ALL fluids and a little genetic material that I can provide from my own body.
Giving back feels good. More importantly, it pays the rent. I get a cool $75 a session at the St. Anne Blood Clinic on 3rd st. when I give plasma because of my rare blood. Twice a week. Every week. Plus cookies and juice. But the real treat is being prepped by Nurse Piers.
I also give at the Crinella Fertility Clinic on Main st., snagging myself $50 a pop(!) Toss(?) that in twice weekly as well and you see how it can add up.
All of this “giving” can make you tired and sometimes disoriented. I once “gave” at the St. Anne Clinic what I SHOULD have given at the Crinella Clinic. It was awkward.
But that’s not even the whole story. I also have a contract with RisCorp. Medical Group to allow them to perform certain procedures on me for financial benefits. Sometimes I can get up to $3000 for it. Totally safe, totally professional…
Eeeexcept for that ONE time of which they compensated me handsomely…I just briefly lost the use of a part of my brain that regulates motor skills, muscle control hunger and happiness. They eventually came back.
This is a beautiful country we live in. But not everyone’s beautiful. Some people are ugly. And by ugly I mean ugly on the inside. Beautiful(on the inside) people need protection from them. BYRDwatch does what it can to provide that protection.
Keep BYRDwatching at http://bit.ly/BYRDwatchTV .
Doug out!
BYRDblog: Ted "Al" Bundy
BYRDtime: Unknown
PLANESPOTTING
"I'm on a train and there's no one else out there. There's a demon in my brain that starts to overwhelm. And I say I, I start to slip away. I start to slip beneath. I start to slip away. I can feel this narcolepsy slide..."
That Third Eye Blind song's in my head now. Except I'm on a plane. Feels like I'm thirty thousand feet up into insomnia en route to Downtown Hell "A". The Hell for Angels. So this American Airlines flight out of D.C. must be a limbo for sinners. The snow held me up enough. But the real storm starts when I land in Tinseltown. She's down there. She's down there and I'm going to find her. I'm going to find her and take back what she took from me.
This Breathe Right strip may make Jake Gittes suave but it's killing my look. Yet it's this or getting nudged back to consciousness again and again for snoring by Flight Attendant Joe with his polite and pointed nasality of intercession on behalf of the disturbed sleepers who thought Yogi Bear chose to hibernate transcontinentally this winter. Hey Boo-Boo, Cindy Bear's been bad. And I'm coming to take back my picnic basket.
I'll be landing at some point in Los Angeles. And then it'll be time to go deep cover. Leave my book-hardened life and intellect behind and become one of the animals in the jungle below. I'm coming for you, sweet heart. I'm coming. Just wish this narcolepsy'd slide....
Deflated
BYRDblog: Agent Turgidi
BYRDtime:2035 hours Tuesday 25th, 2011
Found more than I bargained for in the Tunnel of Love. A deflated perp and Big Byrd. The perp I was expecting (RIP Umberto Sanchez) the former flame, not so much.
This is the 5th denutting in more than a month. Same MO as before. This lady don't fool around. She could give Adam Vinatieri a run for his money. Not that I watch football much. I watch byrds. I'm a byrdwatcher.
No other major details at the crime scene. Gonna cruise around see what I can find. There are some familiar rocks I can turn over. Hoping to find some answers under those rocks...talking metaphorically, of course.
Keep BYRDwatching at http://bit.ly/BYRDwatchTV . I’ll keep you abreast of my findings.
Doug out!
A violent female vigilante is killing sleazy men in Downtown Hell "A" by kicking them in the nuts. Why is she exacting this specific kind of justice? Sounds like a job for a shrink. Or the BYRDwatch Bureau of Investigation.
Check out episode 1 an Subscribe to YouTube Channel: BYRDwatchTV
Get BYRDwatching!
BYRDblog: Agent Turdigi
BYRDtime: 2145 Hours Monday 24th, 2011
Hiyo BYRDwatchers,
BYRDwatch Bureau of Investigation Agent Doug Turgidi here, reporting from Downtown Hell "A". The week's starting off with some good news and some bad news.
Good News: The 7th Street perp that's been harassing dames along the Main Street corridor has been officially busted.
Bad News: He'd also been literally busted- The Rogue BYRD strikes again. Right between the legs. Word is she has it in for men who cat call women and pee on inanimate objects late at night. Uh-oh. No man is safe. heh.
Jokes aside, this is the 5th de-nutting in as many weeks. This female vigilante's gotta be stopped. As an agent of the BBI, protecting byrd's my job.
Just had a tasty BLT at Stray Cats Cafe and am now en route to the crime scene where the perp, one Umberto Sanchez, had his last stand. Just hope the cops have left already.
Keep BYRDwatching at http://bit.ly/BYRDwatchTV . I'll keep you abreast of my findings.
Doug Out!