It seeps...

Remember this post? Well, I present you with TPF's newest intermediate record: 28 seconds. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that's a three second improvement.

Unfortunately, a new Expert record remains elusive, but I know I shall succeed one day. How can I be so sure, you ask? Ah, well, that can be attributed to a rather uncomfortable incident that befell me this week. To put it bluntly, a pigeon pooed (or pood? Or pooped? OK, fine, excreted) on my head.

Now if you knew me, or if you were perspicacious enough to notice the subtle hints offerred on this blog, you'd know that I am absolutely and completely obsessed with cleanliness. To an unhealthy degree, I admit it. Thus, bird poo on my head is the type of thing that is enough to drive me into a fit of hysterics.

It did. I hyperventilated. I hid behind a tree for no rational reason. I squealed. I panicked. I jumped about taking no action whatsoever. I swear I could feel it seeping into my skull.

Luckily, Harry, Micky, Pan and Marry were all present. I can safely say that they saved my life, especially Marry, who is endowed with a sense of practicality that I must say I envy. Harry spent most of the time laughing at me (I still resent that, you bitch!) but she also helped with the whole tissue bringing and calming down parts of the operation. Micky wore a faint look of disgust on her face but was equally helpful. Pan laughed until we reminded her of the vintage skirt incident. A few minutes later, my hair was blissfully clear of that horrid, horrid substance.

During the cleaning operation itself, one of the more idiotic members of my year passed by and noticed that four people were picking at my head.

'Have you got head lice?' she asked, thinking that she was being extraordinarily funny.

'Yes! Want some?' I yelled. Freaking idiot.

And what exactly is the point of this story, you ask? Well, you know how they say that if a bird does its business (help me, I'm running out of euphemisms here) on your head, it's supposed to bring luck. I used to think that was just a way to make people feel better about the whole disgusting ordeal, but I stand corrected. A day later, I broke my minesweeper record in the physics lab. In fact, we do anything but physics in that classroom. Our incompetent teacher seems oblivious to the fact that IBs are in a month and we still haven't finished the syllabus, so she spends half the time making useless photocopies and cracking dirty jokes that are hardly appropriate. I'm the only girl in the class so I have to endure a bunch of goons laughing at statements such as 'Imagine the planets as balls,' and 'Uranus is the seventh planet from the sun.'

Still, I can hardly complain. I did break my intermediate record after all, and the pigeon poo luck might extend to making me get a nice 7 in my physics IB in spite of the abysmal teaching. Yay!