I live on the ocean, which to the two of you that actually take time out of your lives to read this (though I wonder why you would waste it in such away) are probably thinking “Damn. I’m jealous. I want to live on the ocean.” To which I will respond, I live in Maine. It is not awesome, it is cold. Freezing. Even in August the water is 45 degrees. Maybe I don’t find the ocean that compelling because I didn’t grow up on it. I much prefer the river, but that is a different story and one that will probably come up more than once. The worst thing about the ocean though are the seagulls. If you know anything at all about seagulls then you know they are evil and if you don’t know anything about seagulls then brace yourself because I am about to tell you.
I’m a girl who isn’t afraid of much. I’ve lived in a tent with giant spiders and snakes as well as the occasional raccoon. However, there are three things I am afraid of:
3. birds but mostly pigeons and seagulls.
Don’t start questioning me on the first one, that’s for a later date. This is about how fucking scary and out of control seagulls are. They freak me out. They are loud and annoying, much like crows, dirty and gross. They are everywhere here. They are constantly flying around my apartment, my job, rummaging through the garbage on Wednesday nights, and shitting on anything they can find. They’re fucking disgusting.
One time when I was at the beach with my three best friends (they are all sisters) and they’re mother we pulled out or lunch. Sandwiches, a typical beach lunch. I had just made mine and was about to eat it when one of those nasty mother fuckers swooped down and took it right out of my hands! I was nervous about them before but this douche bag sealed my fear. He left a scratch on my hand I’m lucky I didn’t get bird flu from and left me in a panic thinking of how he could have been stuck in my hair. If he had even been close to my hair. Which he wasn’t but that isn’t the point.
Actually I am not sure there is a point at all except that I am at work with nothing to do feeling compelled to write with a seagull sitting on a telephone wire outside the window giving me the evil eye. So I have chosen to tell you about my completely irrational fear. Which you don’t care about, but to be quite honest, I don’t care about what you don’t care about. As it is the seagull has taken off, probably to steal a hotdog from a young child at the baseball game. Awesome seagull. Way to keep being a dick.
I call this guy Scary Seagull and I mean it with all the affection I can muster (which isn’t very much.) I know the only thought going through his head is “bitch ima get yo sandwich!!”