As if I needed another reason to hate birds

Many of you know that I hate birds. Like, really, really, really detest them. I have no idea when it started (my mom hates birds too, so maybe its genetic?) but I do know that I have hated them for as long as I can remember. My Grandpa Harold and Grandma Marie LOVED birds, and I never could understand. When I was little, my Grandpa had a bird feeder outside his dining room window and a bird book on the dining room table. Whenever we would go over there, he'd offer us a popsicle or candy bar and while we sat in the dining room he would show us the birds he'd seen lately noshing at the bird feeder. And I love Grandpa Harold, but I remember thinking, "Why would anyone be so interested in birds?"

My hatred of birds posed a major problem when I moved to Indiana for graduate school. My roommate Carolyn and I had an apartment that was directly above a woman we nicknamed "The Bird Lady." This woman had birds everywhere - inside, outside, EVERYWHERE. The inside birds would tweet all FREAKING day long and the outside birds (she had bird feeders dangling from the bottom of our porch) would crap on us and our guests. I honestly cannot remember how many times we got crapped on - I know Carolyn and I were each crapped on at least once, and at least two of our guests were crapped on. (If you are reading this and were crapped on while walking up to our apartment in Bloomington, please feel free to comment).

So anyway, I hate birds. When I heard about the US Airways jet that went down in the Hudson I was on the treadmill at the Y. When I saw that birds were to blame, I said out loud, "freakin' birds!" (Actually, I didn't say "freakin." I said something else. Use your imagination.) Thank god everyone around me had their headphones on.

So there you have it - I am justified in hating birds! Rats with wings, thats what I say.