02-27-04 - 8:57 a.m.

Number two of the great Top Ten List of the best 80's music of all time (sort of) was brought to you by the ever-so-talented, ever-so-sexy-in-high-heeled-pumps-and-a-hot-pink-pants-suit Prince. He is damn good in concert, too. That boy can rock.

A Tale of Two Pigeons.

It was a bright, sun-shiny day and I was walking up the stairs to my dorm room, shielding my eyes from the College Station sun. (You know, since it never ever rains here...) When I got to the top of the stairs, I noticed a pigeon perched atop the fire alarm. I should have also noticed the giant bolt of lightning that cascaded across the blue sky at the moment that I made eye contact with the bird. But I didn't.

I started to see the pigeon there all the time, so I asked Jamie, my roommate, if she noticed it too. She said yes, and she decided we should name him Jos�.

So, that's the background info.

One time, I was going up to my room and I turned the corner, past the fire alarm, and I guess something black caught the corner of my eye, and so I instinctively stepped backward to see what it was, and it was the pigeon. I actually nodded my head and said, "Oh, what's up?" like it was a freaking person. I'm telling you, Jos� will make you think crazy pigeon-related thoughts.

Anyway, I kept seeing him there, with his chest all puffed out staring at me as I walked past him to my room. I know that that fucker has some kind of superiority complex like my friend LeeboZeebo because all of the other pigeons hang out on the lights; I can tell because there're mounds of bird shit under them. But hoity toity Jos� has to sit his proud, puffy-chested self on the fire alarm.

I knew it was kind of creepy that he was always there, but in a way, I knew I liked him because sometimes he wouldn't be there, and I'd wonder, "Hmm, where's Jos� today?"

Well, the other day, I found out why I should have been a little more wary of a psycho pigeon that sits on the fire alarm all the damn time.

I was coming back from the cafeteria a couple of days ago, and I had a cup of ice water and a cup of coffee in my hands. I was on the very last step of the stairs leading to my floor, when I heard a loud "COOO!" and I nearly shat my pants. I jumped about ten feet straight up, and I spilled the coffee and the ice water on my hands and the cuff of my hoodie.

Then I looked up and realized it was fucking Jos�! He did it on purpose, man.

I swear, I think a tumbleweed rolled by on our fourth-floor balcony as Jos� and I had a staredown. After about five seconds of thick silence, I lunged forward yelling, "Shut the FUCK UP!"

I think I might have heard him laugh. That fucker didn't move one millimeter, despite my threatening lunge, except to puff his damn chest out a little more.

I now hate that damn pigeon, but I tell you, I have respect for him, because I think any other pigeon would have fearfully pooped all over our balcony and flown away after all my yelling.

All respect aside, I'm gonna kill that damn pigeon if he scares me like that again.

Knitacious Knittings of Knittery.

I also call it the "Don't Look Back" bag, and I pretend that it has taught me some kind of life lesson because when I would realize that I had made a stitching mistake, I would take a deep breath, and keep moving along, learning from the mistake, and knowing that I couldn't change it. Even though I know damn well I could have just ripped the stitching out and redone it.

Fuck all that, man. I'll save redoing mistakes for a sweater or something else that shouldn't look ghetto. Or mutt-like, for that matter.

And on that note...Mutt, the big, red "Don't Look Back" bag, is calling me.

Until next time - "Say 'hello' to my little friend, Jos�." BLAM!! *Thunk* "AH HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAA!!"

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