Monday, June 30, 2008

For the birds

It's 11 minutes past 11 am on Tuesday morning and already my day has gone horribly wrong enough to warrant documenting. Call me a complainer, but perhaps this will serve as a memory refresher on those days I can't get out of bed because an excruciating, mind-numbing hangnail or potentially life-threatening sty is inflicting its wrath along the rim of my eyelid threatening blindness or death or both. Dramatic? Hardly.

Already, today has been really shitty. Literally. Just out the door and on my way to work following a less than satisfactory night of slumber, I discovered a gift, delivered by beautiful Mother Nature herself. Much to my dismay, a friendly little neighborhood sparrow decided to land a turd the size of tangerine on my front driver side window this morning. Aside from the horrendous smell (I didn't even know bird crap had a smell) it was a rather embarrassing predicament to be in. I mean this was quite the sizable piece of pooh! Seriously, it looked like some one came and juiced a constipated infant right on the side of my vehicle! It made me think of the old saying, "when pigs fly", because surely that is what must have been occurring last night while the world slept. Either that, or my alcoholic neighbor decided to welcome me into the neighborhood with a peace offering two months past due. I would have settled for the more traditional J-ello mold or fruitcake for that matter.

Me being the genius that I am decided that a discarded post card would assist in minimizing at least the visual corruption this larger-than-life mass of excrement might impose on it's potential viewers. Sure, I was late for court but couldn't possibly be expected to be seen in traffic with my face obscured by this obscene mass. However, what I expected to work more like a make-shift squeegee, only served to smear the offending blob into a peanut butter shaded tint down the middle of my window. And in my great intellectual haste I concocted the bright idea of lowering the window in order to scrape the rest of the mess off my window much like one might do in a blizzard to remove ice or snow. Needless to say that was a bad idea and now there is foul fowl dung lodged in the inner cavity of my door forever! It might have behooved me to make a disclaimer at the beginning of this entry in an as fruitless-as-it-may-be attempt to excuse my early morning inanity, but at this point I don't think that the stupidity could have been avoided because it's true what they say; "haste makes waste". Little did I know, my own haste would be in regards to actually removing the aforementioned "waste".

Had the offender been aware of this well known adage, perhaps s/he would have taken time out to find a more fitting venue in which to release the contents of his or her bowels. But alas, how could I fault the lowly beast. We have become so rushed these days we are hardly thinking clearly anymore, let alone finding time to defecate in socially acceptable regions. Now, thanks to Mr. Birdbrain, not only I was ridiculously late for a disposition this morning set to be held in front of a notoriously, quick-tempered judge, but I now had shit on my finger, shit on my window and shit lodged in the crevasse of my car door for eternity!

Later on that same morning, again in reckless hurriedness, I'd barely miss mowing over a senior citizen in a crosswalk, spill a scalding soy mocha in the crotch of my newly dry cleaned trousers, be chastised by the bailiff in court for forgetting to silence my cell phone, forget to close the fuel door after filling my tank with my life's savings, bite my tongue while choking down a questionable, convenience store-bought granola bar while sitting in traffic and render myself temporarily blind by poking myself in the eye with a brittle mascara wand. And all this; brought on by my inability to stop and smell the roses; instead I opt for bird shit. Its hardly noon now and already I could use a gin and tonic. But alas, there is work to be done. I just hope that when the time comes for me to finally stop and smell those roses, I won't be pushing up daisies instead.
If you ask me, this shit is for the birds.

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