Birds Suck

Birds are attracted to me. I don’t know what that’s all about but I really feel jipped by God on this one. There are certain things that I would definitely want to attract - like money or success….or rich, handsome men. But nooooo, I get dirty, winged creatures.

When I was a kid a baby bird fell out of a tree and landed next to me. I had seen Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella, and considered this to be a sign that I was (as I suspected) a Disney Princess whom animals would flock to, and we would all dance around and burst into song while the creatures of the forest banded together to sew me a new dress. I walked around all afternoon with the baby bird wrapped in leaves like a blanket. The only problem was that it was as dead as a doornail - and featherless. Actually, to be honest with you I thought it was a baby kangaroo. I had no idea it was a bird until my dad freaked out when he found me dancing around the yard singing to it.

He told me birds have diseases and to “put that thing down!” I still thought it was a kangaroo so I didn’t see where he was going with the whole “birds have diseases” thing until he pointed out that it had a beak. So, in the end I buried it in a shoe box and we had a funeral of sorts. Then my dog dug it up in a fit of jealousy and ate it.

Ever since then I have had multiple run-ins with fowl. And I hate them. One time I was in Charleston, SC – where I lived for a year or two, and I got bombarded by a shit storm of sea gulls in the TJ Maxx parking lot of all places. They were out of fu**ing control. I was just an innocent girl looking for some bargain priced clothing, but I guess sea gulls have an issue with that because I got attacked by ten birds and at least half of them shit on me. They say that it is good luck to be pooped on by birds, but I am pretty sure that there is nothing more unlucky then getting publicly attacked (and crapped on) by sea gulls five miles from the beach for no apparent reason.

Then there was the time a bird broke into my apartment and demolished it. I still have no idea how it got in but it was there when I returned home after passing out on my friend’s couch. I had all-access passes to a golf tournament that afternoon and had to catch my ride in one hour. Not that I give a damn about golf, but I had big plans for drinking free liquor and stalking Tiger Woods so imagine my surprise when I come home, get naked in preparation for a quick shower, and then promptly get attacked by a crazyass crow. When I say attacked, I am not exaggerating. It pecked me in the head and trapped me in my own kitchen for fifteen minutes. Finally I had to army crawl naked across my apartment to get dressed and get the hell out of there. I freaked out and called my friend, whose response was, “It’s just a fu**king bird. Tighten up.” By the time I returned home it had pooped on lampshades, curtains, couches, the dining room table - you name it.

Not to mention the time I went to Las Vegas for my friend’s 30th b-day and I was hung-over and sunning by the pool. If you have ever been to Vegas, then you know that the pools are crowded as hell. It is a miracle to get a chair in the first place. So we were all packed like sardines, surrounded by fake boobs and tattoos. My friends went inside to gamble, but I physically could not move, so I ordered a Caesar salad and a margarita from the pool girl – feeling very high on myself because I was being waited on poolside. I was too hung-over to walk to the trash can so I put the leftovers under my chair and passed out only to be awakened an hour or so later by my friend going, “Pssst, Hey! Wake Up!” So I look over and she is standing fifteen feet away from me and she is acting really weird. I hear people laughing all around me, and I look around to see that everyone has moved their chairs as far from me as possible. I give my friend a look to say, “WTF?” And thats when she tells me I am covered in pigeons. And she wasn’t bullshitting, either. I was COVERED in them. They were on my chair, under my chair, on my back - all over the place. Apparently they like Caesar salad and watery margaritas. It was humiliating.

So finally, what prompted me to write this post was the suicide-bomber bird that hit my window at work the other day. I work on the third floor so there isn’t normally a lot of action outside my window. But low and behold, a bird decides to off-itself in my window which scared the shit out of me and made me scream, “What the hell?” at the top of my lungs during a conference call with my CEO. And as a daily reminder, my window has bird goo and feathers stuck to it – going on two weeks now.