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Wednesday, December 9, 2009

The Scoop on Poop

Getting pooped on by a bird is not - I repeat, NOT - good luck.  Much like rain on your wedding day (I now have Alanis Morrisette stuck in my head), the luck theory behind this unfortunate occurrence has been completely fabricated to make us feel better about the fact that we were just pelted by a load of feces from one of our avian friends.  How do I know?  Because it happened to me yesterday and to test my luck, I bought a lottery ticket.  Suffice it to say I am not a millionaire. 

I was walking to Chipotle for lunch yesterday when I felt something strike my leg.  I worried that I was maybe hit by a rude New Yorker's cigarette and immediately looked down to survey the damage.  It was then that I saw a half liquid, half solid mass on my ankle.  A loogie from a nearby bum?  Nope.  Upon further inspection I realized it was, in fact, bird dookie. 

I immediately abandoned the lunch trip and ran to the nearest Strawberry to purchase new legwear.  I then threw away the damaged tights and proceeded to sanitize in the office bathroom.  Physically, I walked away unscathed; mentally, I will never be the same.

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