Friday, November 27, 2009

Our Freaking Feathered Friends.

Warning- Multitude of references to bird poo. No, I'm not kidding. I wish I was. I so dearly wish I was.


I'm back from a drive around the beach.
Nice drive, nice drive.

I ate some ice-cream.
Nice ice-cream, nice ice-cream.

What? You think I'm being boring? You think that I'm not being my usual hilarious, genius self? *ahem*



Some stupid pigeon/crow/evil bird decided it had too much of food to eat last night, and gratefully used my very expensive shoes as a place of excretion.

The left shoe, to be precise.


Birds, I feel, have radars in their little brains. Sort of like- "ALERT. ALERT. Girl has just stepped out of the house after a nice shower. Engage missile."

Stupid birds.

Let's make a pact, okay? Let's train birds.

No, really. Not joking.

Let's TRAIN those freaking poo-zookas into knowing exactly where and when to let out their S-Bombs. No, not the cuss words. An actual S-Bomb. O.o

I'm going to write a letter to our state government saying that we all want bathrooms for birds. Nice colorful toilets with therapeutic oils that instigate the dropping of bird S-Bombs.

What say you? They may laugh?

So what.

Because when a pigeon decides to drop an S-Bomb on the Chief Minister, only I shall be having the last laugh.

& the pigeon, though that is entirely besides the point.

A classic example


Chavie said...

hahaha this is classic! :D sorry about the shoe though! :)

She Who Eats Cookies said...

HAHAHAHAHAHA *points and laughs*
I hope it was the Converse. I'm jealous of those. wtm

Anonymouse said...

No, it wasn't the converse.
Which one, btw? I have SOH MANY KEWL ONES.
It was some old pair of Reebok shoes, so everything is A-OKAY.