“This is a song about what not to do when a bird shits on ya!” — Bruce Dickinson
Last weekend, a bird shit on me. It would have got me right on the head, except I happened to have my hands over my head at that exact moment. I felt something wet on my fingers. I looked and saw something gross! I ran inside to wash.
I ran into the cottage warning, “A bird shit on me, clear a path!”
My dad’s response?
“How do you know?”
Gee dad, I dunno, how about the bird shit on the fucking fingers?!
mikeladano.com 
Some say that’s good luck – and yes, the bird is the word!
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I’m not sure about the luck. I can’t see any way in which I lucked out!
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As Bruce says, “Here’s not what to do when a bird shits on you.”
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Bruce is a wise, wise man.
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That he is!
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I actually learned a lot from his lyrics about literature and history.
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Me too.
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I was at Exhibition Stadium in the 80’s with a large group of high school buddies.
One little dude with the nickname Bugeyes got shit on by a seagull.
He then stood in the aisle and brushed into people as they walked up and down the stairs in an effort to wipe it off on others.
We all laughed our ass off at that one.
At least it wasn’t on your car. It’s apparently corrosive enough to eat away at the paint.
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Not on my car thankfully. I looked up, and there was a huge nest right over my head. My dad there used to be peregrine falcons in there, but he thought they left. If they have returned, my shitty fingers were the first sign of it!
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