Except this time, the encounter was closer than I would have liked it to be. I was walking across the little foot bridge that connects my apartment complex to the rest of campus (It was in one of the adjacent trees that I first spotted "Baldo," the bald eagle), when I spotted the majestic beast soaring overhead.

Not three seconds later did I see this damned national bird letting loose a bucket load of crap from it's underside. And when I say "bucket load" I am not exaggerating. For anyone who meanders across the bridge from College Park to campus, you might notice and HUGE glob/puddle of some strange white chunky, marbled gooey liquid. Yeah. That's bald eagle crap. Yeah. It almost landed on my head. Had I not looked skyward and taken notice of this beast, no doubt that puddle of crap would have dumped on the top of my head, instead of the bridge.

I take this to be some kind of sign. I'm not sure what it means, but I think the lesson to be learned has something to do with America hating me. What with the national bird trying to take a dump on my head, I see no other alternative.

Maybe someone has me confused with one of the Dixie Chicks. This is entirely possible since I too have been known to voice my lack of admiration for a certain shrubbery named George "dubya." And I do not find it all too unlikely that some pathetic politician has nothing better to do than try to train a bald eagle to take craps on the heads of national policy nay-sayers. But come on now. Bald eagles crapping on top of peoples' heads? How trite is that? Why not stone me to death with rocks that have hand-painted American flags on them? The latter has more OOMPH to it, if you ask me.

If I've learned anything today, it would be to "always keep your head up." Because honestly, the second you walk with your eyes focused on your shoes could very well be the instant that a bald eagle unloads itself on top of your hair. And I bet bird doo requires extreme attention whilst trying to remove it from your hair.