It’s an early Saturday morning for me, and a Saturday morning full of teaching too! I’m subbing for Jen’s Cardio Ball class at 8 and Kim’s Kickboxing class at 10. Should be a good double workout before I tackle my to do list today!
For today’s post, I thought I’d provide you guys with another awkward blast from the past.
In case you’ve missed the other posts in my “Awk Spot” series, here you go:
- The Time I Got Stuck in a Drive Through ATM
- The Time I Got Yelled At On A Plane
- The Time I Forgot My Towel
- The Time I Was A Massage Virgin
- The Time I Needed Mothballs & Pantyhose
Quite the collection I got going, huh? These are some of my most viewed posts – I’m glad you all can appreciate my awkwardness!
Here’s another 🙂
The Time(s) I Got Pooped On
What do you think the statistics are for the average number of times a person gets shit on by a bird in their lifetime? When I existed on this planet for 24 years, I had never been shit on by a bird before. Until 2010, that is. In 2010 I could definitively say that I was pooped on twice. Twice in two months!
Bird Poop Experience Number 1
It was the morning of my grandmother’s wake, a Monday. I was running on little to no sleep, as I had spent Friday through Sunday in Philly for my brother’s college graduation. My flight got in late Sunday night, and I was exhausted as it was anyways from the entire previous month of Yiayia being sick and wrapping things up in my old group before my transfer at work. I was rushing around my apartment, trying to leave on time to make it to New Bedford by ten o’clock. I hurried out the door, dressed for the wake, hair done. I was completely frazzled, trying to make it down the street with my bags packed for a couple of days – my funeral dress, shoes, and breakfast in hand. Now on this particular week there was construction being done on my street, so I was parked one street over. As I moved under a tree to get to my car, I felt something hit my head. SPLAT. “Shut up,” I thought. I opened my car door, threw everything in the back seat, then sat in the driver’s seat and whipped that mirror down, praying that the SPLAT wasn’t what I thought it was. Sure enough, as I looked in the mirror, I saw a huge white glob, IN my hair. SHIT. Literally. I had to run back into the house and scrub it out of my hair. I didn’t have time to re-shower and do my hair all over again so I had to just deal with it. Luckily it didn’t get on my outfit or I would have been shit (ha) out of luck.
Now, people say getting pooped on by a bird is supposed to be good luck. I don’t really believe that. It’s kind of like when people say it’s good luck if it rains on your wedding day. Really? Pretty sure that everyone just makes up these things to make those in the situation feel better about themselves. There is nothing lucky about being pooped on.
Although I must say, it did add some comic relief to what was an extremely difficult day. Yiayia LOVED birds. She loved robins and blue jays. And she loved practical jokes. So my entire family made fun of me the entire day, and we all laughed that the bird was really Yiayia playing a joke on me so that we’d have something to laugh about during the wake. I mean, the minute I got to the funeral home, Auntie Paula and Greg came running out, yelling POOPHEAD! at me as loud as they could. So I guess I am KINDA glad it happened.
Bird Poop Experience Number 2
BUT. If that truly was Yiayia playing a practical joke, the second time I got pooped on this summer was just mean. Fast forward to the 4th of July. Tim and I went to Nahant Beach for the day, and we were laying out in the sun in our beach chairs, chit-chatting, reading, enjoying the day. When suddenly, SPLAT. This time there was no questioning what it was, as I literally could feel what it was on my NECK. Like, are you kidding me? I just froze. “Get it off, get it off, get it off, GET IT OFF!” Luckily I didn’t have to see what I could feel was a runny, white mess. After Tim took a napkin and wiped it off my neck AND A LITTLE OF THE BOTTOM SIDE OF MY FACE (ew ew ew ew ew), I ran toward the ocean and scrubbed it off even more. I must say, Tim did an excellent job of not bursting out laughing until I was over it. Then he made fun of me for the rest of the day. But what the heck!?
I guess 2010 was the year to get shit on. And I made it through 2011 without a third time.
Question of the Day: What about you guys? Ever get pooped on before?
Here’s to not getting pooped on in 2012!