An admission.

I’ve come to realise something. Something about myself that I’m not proud of. Something that may haunt me for the rest of my life. I realise now, that I’m scared of birds.

I suffer from ornithophobia.

At first I though it was maybe just pigeons. That’s fair enough, I think. I mean, they’re disgusting and creepy. And everywhere. And those beady spawn-of-satan eyes? I hate them. So much so that, a few weeks ago, I met up with some friends and got some chicken salad rolls from this shop. We sat outside, chatting, eating until the most terrifying, physically deformed pigeon started hobbling towards me. Not my other two friends. Me. Fixing me with this crazed “I just want to be loved” look that serial killers have before they beat their wives to death with blunt objects.

Long story short, that encounter made me so physically ill that I doubt I can ever eat a chicken salad roll again.

In order to validate what now seems like babbling paranoia, I googled ‘pigeon phobia’ and found an answers.com page.

http://nz.answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20080805062106AAKfJ0x

Fools. You can’t just stay away from pigeons. They are the most sadistic of creatures.

Moving right along to my epiphany.

Earlier today I tweeted about the stupid, noisy lorikeets who have taken residence in the tree that hangs over my car and next to my living room. They suck. They squawk while I’m watching tv and pretending to do assignments and they crap and drop their lunch all over my car. So I tweeted abusively. And then probably about three or four of them flew into the window next to where I’m sitting. Seriously. A rational response would be to think “Oh those poor birds, I hope they’re ok!” or “Ew I hope they didn’t mark the window.” My response: start to hyperventilate, sms and tweet for help and start to snivel like a child.

Whatever. They’re fricking creepy.

Conclusion: I am scared of birds. Keep them the hell away from me.

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