If You Have Nothing Nice to Say...Well, Follow Me

That would be me.

Mirror,

In honor of watching a pigeon shit in my mother’s freshly-dyed hair today, I’d like to repost a pigeon shit story of mine (I posted this a few months ago when I had like 0.7 followers and have since deleted it, so I’m sure it will be new to most of you).

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So on my way to school today, I was merrily walking to the train station, minding my own business, when I was suddenly and unceremoniously smacked straight on the forehead with a warm, slimey wad of pigeon shit. At first I thought it was an abnormally large rain-drop, but once the stench of expired eggs and bird ass reached my nose, I began to process the horror of what just happened.

Running down the street with pigeon excrement dripping down my horrified face, I made my way to the nearest corner-store with a plan of using the store-owner’s restroom to clean myself off, and subsequently vomit in disgust.

As soon as I walked in, face full of shit, and politely asked to use the store owner’s restroom, this vertically-challenged, moon-faced BITCH says: “bathrooms no fo customer.” I was in no mood to be rejected, so I said: “Listen, Lady: I HAVE BIRD FECES ON MY FACE, SO EITHER YOU LET ME IN YOUR BATHROOM OR I’M GOING TO WIPE MY SHITTY FACE ALL OVER YOUR FRESH BAGELS.”

Needless to say, she was a bit disturbed after that rather nauseating threat, but it got me a free pass to the restroom, so I didn’t give a flying fladoodle. So anyway, I cleaned up, calmed down, and politely thanked the asshole store-owner with a sly, sarcastic smile (who now appeared to be a bit frightened of me) on my way out. 

All in all, it was a pretty solid morning. 

The fuck did you say, bitch?

Whoopsie.

(or every weekday, in my case)