Tales of the Unexpected
I've had a bird shit on me three times in my adult life. The first two times were in the U.S.A., two different (possibly adjacent) years, in the same geographical location, exactly on my birthday. On my head.
The third time was in Sweden, another (possibly immediately subsequent) year, on my head, on the day AFTER my birthday.
The way I figure it, that bird went looking for me, couldn't find me, boarded a plane, travelled the eight hours it takes to get to Stockholm, flew the remaining distance, and delivered my blessing a day late.
It makes you wonder.
The third time was in Sweden, another (possibly immediately subsequent) year, on my head, on the day AFTER my birthday.
The way I figure it, that bird went looking for me, couldn't find me, boarded a plane, travelled the eight hours it takes to get to Stockholm, flew the remaining distance, and delivered my blessing a day late.
It makes you wonder.
posted by Jeanne at 23:07
13 Comments:
Heh. I'd consider that a "blessing". Whatever it's made of, bird shit is rare and reserved for special places.
Gar,
I guess I am well fertilized.
On the subject of blessings, shouldn't you be switching popes? Letting the old one go in peace to the hereafter, at any rate?
On your way to Sweden did you cross the international date line? If you did it is entirely posible that you were shat upon on your birthday.
Do you know what the white stuff around birdshit is?
It's birdshit too.
Brendar,
I've figured in the time difference, which is only six hours. It would have taken about that much time to fly out to Boston and find the right plane.
I have to admit I didn't give the shit time to seperate on my head.
Steve,
I finally responded on your blog :)
Now that it one committed bird. I'm impressed.
Hmmm...it's been almost a week since the last Jeanne post. Seems about time to post a hiaku in an attempt to lure her back:
She wrote of a bird
That followed her to Stockholm
Did he kidnap her?
I was raised as one of Jehovah's Witnesses. When i was a child, about to go out in the ministry, a bird crapped on my head out in front of the church(Kingdom Hall, whatever). my hair was in pigtails that morning and this lady in our congregation took me to the bathroom and stuck my head under the faucet in the sink. i remember clearly the feel of it hitting my scalp.
today i am a proud bird owner(keeper?). what does this say? was that a pivotal moment in my young life, when i realiZed how much i loved both birds and poop? or was it so humiliating that i masochistically felt the need to put myself constantly within bird-shitting range? these days, i sometimes deliberately catch bird crap in my hands just to save myself the trouble of cleaning it up off the floor/clothing/furniture. after a while, it just seems easier to wash your hands.
fdf:
You've been so irregular lately, I didn't even realize I was writing a fille-post. May my writings ever serve as a laxative for your compounded thoughts.
Joe,
I fear to find, once
shown the blackness of my mind,
my readership gone.
I'm just waiting till I'm in a better mood.
an attempt to lift your spirits:
loyal readers don't
fear the blackness of your mind
here we shall remain
i haven't meant to seem ephemeral or anything these days. sorry. gigantic upheavals going on. please pray that I don't get fat. i have been eating too much.
I think a fart would make the point well enough, if I felt vindictive. But I rather appreciated being recognized.
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