Not a New Recipe, But Definitely A New Flavor

Good Thursday morning readers. Normally at this point in the week, I would be posting a new recipe and telling you how it turned out. That is not what this story is about. I will go ahead and warn you that this story, while hilarious, is still pretty disgusting, so if you would rather not read on, you can come back tomorrow, when my new recipes will be posted for your enjoyment. Those of you who are intrigued, please keep reading. Last night was my turn to cook again, but unfortunately I had to reschedule to Thursday night this week to accommodate a visit from some old college friends who live in Anchorage, Alaska now (On a side note, if you have not been to visit Alaska, I thoroughly recommend it, sooooo beautiful). Anyways, a large group of us met for dinner last night and we had a great time catching up and retelling the funny stories of our "youth." Unfortunately, when I parked my car, I failed to notice the large tree looming over the spot. So as we were leaving, it was hard to ignore the large amount of birds who had taken up residence in this tree while we were inside. My car was already very speckled with their droppings. My friend Karen (who rode to the restaurant with me) and I made a plan to quickly get into the car, hopefully avoiding any falling matter. Unfortunately, we were not as successful as we had hoped. At this point, you are probably having one of two reactions. You are either laughing hysterically or you may be cringing, your shoulders tensing into your earlobes. Based on the title of this particular post, you may be thinking, "dear lord, please don't tell me they got bird droppings into their mouths somehow." I am pleased to tell you that no fecal matter made it into my or Karen's mouth. I did however get a nice size drop on my shoulder though. Ick! Now at this point, I would like to recite a poem that my grandfather told me once when I was a little girl. After the poem, I will continue my story, so please take this brief intermission to decide if you really want to hear the end. If not, no hard feelings, I will expect to see you back here next week. OK. On to the poetry! Birdie, Birdie, in the sky, Dropped a poo-poo in my eye, I'm a big girl, I don't cry, I'm just glad that cows don't fly. (Compliments of Vance Brooks) Now, where was I? O, yes. So a bird had pooped on my shoulder, and apparently on my purse too. When we got to Karen's house, we took turns checking each other over. After I thought I had cleaned as much as I could, I headed home. I walked in the door to find Aaron, my brother, sitting on the couch, studying and watching tv. I handed him my styrofoam container with my leftovers and began to tell him, how I just got pooped on. He thought it was hilarious. Yes, it is hilarious, until it happens to you. Then its just gross!! Anyways, so I settled into my chair and began watching the season premiere of Modern Family on the dvr. Between the laughs I had already begun to forget the traumatic event that had happened to me earlier. About midway through, I looked over at Aaron, who has decided to enjoy my leftovers. I could tell something was wrong, but I wasn't sure what was going on. The way he was sitting with his arms held out, all stiff, I instantly thought there must have been some droppings on the Styrofoam box and he had gotten it on his arm. He just sat there making this awful face, and I said, "Its probably bird poop. Did you get some on you or something?" He instantly jumped up and ran to the sink and starts spitting and flushing his mouth out with water. I start laughing hysterically "how the heck did you get it in your mouth?" I laughed for two minutes straight while he continued rinsing his mouth and using a paper towel to wipe his tongue all the while mumbling something about bird flu and e.coli. When he finally was able to speak, he told me, he had gotten this black and white mixture on his arm from the box, and for some reason, he thought it was remnants of a dessert I had not eaten. He thought maybe it was an oreo and whip cream mixture, and apparently he had forgotten the story I had told him, not 30 minutes before. In a hasty move, he just licked it off. He instantly realized that it was not a tasty treat, but a foul tasting concoction. I guess that was the exact moment I had looked over at him and when I asked if he had gotten bird poop on him, my story came rushing back to him, and he immediately knew what he had tasted. When he told me that he had deliberately licked it off his arm, I lost it. I laughed so hard, I nearly wet myself. For the remainder of the evening, whenever I looked over at him, his face was fighting off the bad taste the "oreos" had left in his mouth. I would quietly laugh to myself, "yes, it is hilarious, til it happens to you." Not so funny now, is it Aaron? Please tune in tomorrow for some new recipes and hopefully some new stories.