Tuesday, 7 June 2011


Summer has arrived and with that come many of natures little bonuses.  The sun, of course, and the grass is green and the trees are lush.  I personally enjoy seeing all the bunnies in the gardens during my morning runs.  With all these lovely little perks of come some not so fantastic features.  Humidity (you must agree, this is just a mean trick mother nature likes to play on someone’s hair), sun burns (boooo) and mosquitoes (double boooo).  What is the scariest of them all?  The birds!

Before you ask, no, I’m not afraid of the birds.  I’ve seen Mr. Hitchcock’s masterpiece several times and I’m still not scared of these fine, feathered creatures.  (Queue movie trailer for a classic horror movie)

What I am scared of is being pooped on.  Yep, I said it.  I’m not scared of these little birdies but rather what they might decide to drop on my melon.

This fear is particularly prevalent during my commutes.  For whatever reason, there are a ton of birds.  They have taken up residence in the steel rafters above the stairs to the GO tunnel. 

Every morning as I approach the doors to the tunnel, I hear all their little chirps.  I usually think to myself how lovely they are or how my Nana would have really enjoyed listening to them.  Then as I enter the stairwell I go into super stealth mode.  I hear the birds; I dare not look up to see them.  What if they choose that very moment to send their droppings down to land on my face?  That would be a total nightmare.  Instead I opt to look down to see where they have already pooped.  Once my route down the stairs has been mentally noted, I run.  Well, I try to run but usually in these moments of panic I get stuck behind Mr. Super-Slow and Ms. Doddle-Along.

So far I have been able to avoid getting crapped on as I’m heading to work.  I’m just waiting for the day it will happen though.  I feel like it’s just my luck.  I should really start keeping a change of clothes in my car.  You know, just in case.

Now before signing off, I would like to say this; I do NOT consider it lucky to get pooped on by a wee birdie.  People who say that obviously haven’t been s*** on lately and are perhaps due for an experience of their own. 

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