Pigeons

I foster an unorthodox degree of animosity toward pigeons. In fact, when I think of pigeons, I think of stupid. Prancing around, warbling nonsense, their big heads sliding back and forth.

I think what bothers me most is their lack of self awareness. They don't understand their current position as bane of the bird species or bane of all the earth species. They don't even look over their shoulders when you tell them how stupid they look standing around like that.

Well, to be honest, I am not proud of my unwarranted loathing of pigeons, but surrendering my hostility toward them is impossible. I promise I've tried. I stared at a group of pigeons for two whole minutes the other day searching for redeeming qualities. The only redeeming qualities I could find were that:

1. There were nine of them standing there instead of ten

2. They didn't bully me with their warbling (this time)

3. They all flew away when I happened to tread briskly in their general direction

Not redeeming enough, pigeons. Upon closer observation, I also discovered that pigeons look like fish with wings. They also have pig in their name and they eat trash.

Pigeons. Hmm... I suppose they rocked Home Alone II. How did they get them to sit on the bird lady like that?

Not Putting a Title Here Might Make Me Seem Edgy

Four score and seven years ago, I found myself faking originality. For instance, nobody likes burnt popcorn. I thought I did, but nobody does. Because nobody does, I thought I did. In truth, it tastes like a blossom of ash and smells like a carcinogen. There's no getting past that.

Sometimes deciphering originality from the mainstream can be nearly impossible because of originality's widespread popularity. A paradox, indeed. In fact, I still can't decide if I'm for Obama or Socialism. Oh, whoops, same thing.

Oh yeah, and what the heck am I supposed to be wearing these days? Skinny jeans? Psh... try NOT finding those in every store you walk into. Obnoxious looking geek glasses? A headband across the middle of my forehead? Footie pajamas and a cowboy hat? (wait... that was one of my unintentional fashion statements).

At least I can count on Disney Channel movies to keep me original. Especially High School Musical. I mean, nothing's more unheard of than a college student obsessing over High School Musical.

I suppose my originality comes from doing things nobody else wants to do. Like spraying cooking spray directly into my mouth or actually eating that mystery concoction.

I have also convinced myself that being dubbed "Designated Brownie Batter Spoon-Licker" each year of college isn't at all degrading. I am not too proud to look like a starving lard consuming the dregs of the brownie bowl.

So, friends, Romans, countrymen, give me your batter-dipped spoons, your over-hyped adolescent films, your blackened ashy cancer-causing popcorn...

and I will show you true originality.

(On an end note, I invented blogging.)