I am writing this entry on behalf of my friend.  Today’s douchebag is the bird that flew over the bench on the southeast corner of Bryant Park in NYC at about 2:30 PM last Thursday. Why?  Said bird took a shit on my friend’s head.

My friend decided to take a much needed break from work, grab some lunch from one of her favorite food trucks, sit on a bench and people watch while she eats.  People watching in NYC is one of my favorite pastimes.  It’s the only place you can see a fierce tranny, a conservative granny, and a baby with its nanny walk by in a matter of 5-7 seconds. So my friend was sitting there enjoying the sights and her pad Thai, when suddenly she felt something wet drop onto her head.  She clearly knew it wasn’t raining, and she wasn’t close to any buildings. What I mean by that is, in the warm weather, the air conditioners on the high rises often leak water which can drip on you’re head as you walking down the street. Crazy as it sounds, as a New Yorker, you sometimes learn to embrace it, especially in the really balmy months.  Even dirty water feels good when it’s balls hot and you still have 18 more blocks to walk. Anyway, my friend pulled a mirror out of her purse, and came face to face with the reality, a bird had crapped on her.

Now, you might think her anger and disgust came from the fact that she had bird feces in her hair. Well, you would be wrong. She was pissed because she had just gotten a blow out.  Here’s the deal, my friend has not taken a blow drier to her head in years.  She says she’s about as skilled at blowing out her own hair as Kim Kardashian is at, well, anything. She has curly hair, so she says, I’ve known her for over 10 years and have never seen so much as a wave.  It’s always pin straight, and looks great by the way.  She managed to find a salon on the upper east side that gives cheap, but good blowouts. So twice a week, she goes and gets it done. Yes, it sounds like a convenience, but she works full time and has a son, so fitting it in is often a challenge. She’ll either get up extra early to do it, or try to sneak it in on a lunch break. I used to work at the same ad agency she works at so I can assure you, much like finding the perfect pair of underwear, a lunch break is very rare.  So the fact that the biweekly blowout she had just gotten the day before had been crapped all over, had her really pissed off.  She sent me a selfie of the affected area of her head, and tragically it was right by her scalp. This bitch of a bird didn’t have the decency to unload on the end of her hair so it could’ve been a partial wash scenario. Nope, this was a full redo blowout and that really blows.  I tried to make her feel better by telling her what my mom used to say, when a bird shit on her car it was good luck.  She immediately sent me another selfie of the bird crap dripping down her head with the message, no, I’m just shit outta luck.

She washed out what she could, and the next morning told her boss she had a doctors appt in case he was looking for her, but really went to get a morning blowout.  Sure she lied, but whoever says they’ve never lied to their boss is full of as much shit as the left side of my friend’s head. So on behalf of my friend, bird…you took a poorly placed poop, that makes you the douchebag of the day.

Unfortunately for my husband Adam, he’s going to be named the DB of the day more than anyone else. I personally don’t feel it’s even a dig on him, it’s just when you cohabitate with another human being, all their douchebaggery is right there for you to see, all the time. I’m sure he would label me the douchebag of the day at times, he just doesn’t have a blog about it so nobody will know. I win.

Adam travels a lot for work which is mostly annoying, but it does have its perks. He works on golf, so he’s gone a lot of weekends. It sucks for obvious reasons, but it’s good because on Sunday nights if I want to indulge in some guilty Keeping up with the Kardashian pleasure I don’t have to hear him telling me that my IQ is dropping 5 points with every word that comes out of Kylie Jenner’s over-inflated clown lips. Sure, I agree that if Kim Kardashian takes one more selfie she should be locked in a basement with no food, water, or botox, but that doesn’t mean I’m not curious to see just how big her ass can look in a pencil skirt. It’s not so much must see TV, as it is must see booTY.

One particular trip, Adam was in Hawaii for a tournament at one of the most beautiful golf courses in the world. It was a Saturday and my daughter Lily and I had just come in from taking Elsa for a walk in the stroller. She “needed some air.” I needed some wine. Lily went the bathroom to pee, and came out asking me to help her pull up her pants and underwear. In her defense, she was wearing these leggings that were definitely too tight. I’ve been meaning to clean out her closet for oh, I’d say 3 years. She’s 3. Just as I was about to pull them up, I heard my phone “ding.” Adam had texted me a photo which I quickly opened. The best way to describe the photo would be, the most quintessential postcard you would find of Hawaii. Clear sky, crystal blue ocean, and perfectly placed palm trees. Basically heaven on earth. He also texted that it was “current view.” It was beautiful, I was jealous. But I had to get back to the task at hand, pulling up Lily’s pants. I looked down, and much to my dismay, I saw a large, somewhat textured brown mark in her underwear. Now before you jump to conclusions, she hadn’t pooped in her pants. She pooped earlier in the potty, it was the wiping part that was clearly a fail. Lily was late to start pooping on the potty, but once she did, she demanded privacy which I completely understand and respect. She likes to do everything herself, which is fine except the fact that she puts less effort into wiping her butt than Larry King did trying to make all 8 of his marriages work. So as I’m staring down at the poo marked panties, I thought back to Adam’s “current view” he had just sent me. Yup, I sure did. I reached for my phone, snapped a few pics, decided which angle was the most disturbing, and sent it off with the same caption, “current view.”

About 10 minutes later I heard back from Adam. The text just said, “I got you a nice gift.” He does always bring me back stuff from places he goes. He really stepped it up this time and brought me back a really nice bracelet. Sure that provided some redemption, but working at a golf course in Hawaii while I wipe ass in Orlando, I still deemed him the douchebag of the day.