I woke up this morning thinking, “oh my god…. I died in my sleep and came back as Tippi frickin’ Hedren.”
I couldn’t even hear my alarm (or Dan’s 3) for the birds….
the
birrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrddddddssss
What the hell are they carrying on about??? Once they pick the 14 or 15 volunteers to crap on my car today… what’s left to discuss?
Is it a reunion? Are they all just getting home from their trip south? Is there a reason they can’t just get a box of wine and do this a little later? By 7am they’re all gonna be sittin’ around with nothing to talk about…
And why are they all squawking at once? Is there no dominant figure in the bird world??? Is there nary a beak that can take some kinda control??? “ok, ok! one at a time… we have ’til fall….”
Maybe they all just got wind of Monday’s forecast and are on a witch hunt to locate the bastard who led them all north…
Or maybe they know who’s idea it was and are letting him have it… “there’s a possibility of flurries this Monday Sal, WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?”
Meanwhile, I did learn Tippi Hedren is Melanie Griffith’s mother AND I now have a few extra minutes to use as I please this morning… ha… ha… ha screw you birds. Screw.You.