“Mother’s Day Massacre”

12 05 2009

Massacre – what a wonderful word to describe Mother’s Day.

Could I be referring to the “massacre” of bird poop that landed on my husband while we were taking a morning stroll on the beach on Sunday? On our way to grab a coffee with our toddler daughter – while at the same time trying to convince each other that her food-tossing, shoe- throwing, and bath-water -drinking, is perfectly normal – a bird relieved himself 5 inches away from me. Thankfully, hubby was there to burden the pain, and his “Oh…shit” sent me running into the street.

Would you believe me if I told you that the shit landed on his wedding ring? And that he described the shit as “hot”. ( For clarifcation,  he didn’t mean it as “Girl, your shit is HOT. He meant it as “Honey, that oven that you’ve had your head in for 30 minutes is HOT.”)  



Hot Poop on the Loose!

Hot Poop on the Loose!



Now, I have unfortunately had a few run-ins with infant shit, and usually the smell overpowers any other sensory receptor, so I cannot comment on the temperature. All I know is that the irony was too much for me on this Mother’s Day. Was it  a sign? Is Mother’s Day a bunch of hot poop? Is our marriage a even bigger bag of  hot poop? NOPE – turns out it was just a precursor for the afternoon Lakers game. Which turned out to be the hottest, biggest bag of poop of the day.

Down by 32 at half – we had to turn it off – it was too hard to watch. LA sports people are referring to Sunday’s game as the “Mother’s Day Massacre” -a very fitting name.

It’s countdown to tip-off in Game 5. I just hope Kobe and co. show up tonight. And I hope the elusive bird holds his business for his fly-over of Brentwood or Bel-Air.




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