Smoke Alarms, Bird Crap, and a Nobel Prize
Which situation makes you feel worse: inadvertently setting off another person’s smoke alarm, or being crapped on by a bird?
I know you’re thinking those things seem random, but if you’re reading this blog, thinking probably isn’t something you’re suited for.
As a small child I decided it would be the height of scientific experimentation to melt Play-Doh in a frying pan–I was mistaken. Both my mother and the smoke alarm informed of this.
That was the first time I accidentally set off a smoke alarm.
The second time I was using someone’s vacuum cleaner when it inexplicably exploded and caught on fire. It seemed to me to be an act of God–she said it the act of an idiot. The smoke alarm was the second loudest thing I heard that day.
Note: Seriously, if a vacuum cleaner isn’t capable of picking up paperclips, it should be clearly labeled so. And since when has carpeting been so flammable.
The third time I accidentally set off a smoke alarm, I was starting a fire in a fireplace. I was told the flue was open–it was not.
The amount of times I set off someone’s smoke alarm: three.
When I was about ten years old, I was playing tag with some of my cousins in my grandfather’s hay loft. I felt a slap on my back, but when I turned around there was nobody behind me. I thought this was weird until someone pointed out to me-in between fits of hysterical laughter-that there was a giant load of bird crap on my back of my jacket.
That was the first time a bird crapped on me.
The second time a bird crapped on me, I was playing baseball and the bird crap landed in my baseball glove. I was always an intuitive fielder.
The third time a bird crapped on me, I was walking down the street, and it landed on my shoulder.
The fourth time a bird crapped on me, I was walking down a street called Sesame, when a giant yellow bird came flying at me squawking in crazy high pitched voice and crapping–it was horrible.
Note: that didn’t really happen–I made it up.
The fourth time a bird crapped on me it landed on my baseball cap. I don’t remember where I was; I just remember it hanging from the bill of my cap.
The amount of times a bird has crapped on me: four.
By a ratio of 4:3 I’ve been crapped on by a bird more times than I’ve accidentally set off a smoke alarm.
My hypothesis: if you’ve been crapped on by a bird more times than you’ve accidentally set off someone’s smoke alarm: you’re unlucky. If you’ve accidentally set off someone’s smoke alarm more times than you’ve been crapped on by a bird: you’re klutzy.
Therefore: I am unlucky and not klutzy.
Don’t laugh–it’s science.
Do the math for yourself; you’ll see that I’m right.
Now I just have to sit back and wait to hear from the Nobel committee.