Avian Tragedy Converted to Dark Comedy

This past week was positively wonderful. Seeing Chenelle again was even more rejuvenating than I expected it to be. Our week was brimming with side-splitting giggles, ineffable moments, and dead pigeons. Yes, you head me correctly. On Saturday, Jodi, Chenelle, and I decided we weren't going to tolerate the blistering heat that the City was smote with and journeyed out to Rockaway Beach in Queens. It's no Palm Springs, but my God it was a relaxing experience that was potent with bliss. On our way to the salty, sunny, and sandy haven we decided to pick up a bottle of Gin and orange juice to make our subway trek out there that much more entertaining.

After purchasing our beverages we needed an obscure area to pour our alcoholic concoctions into nondescript cups. En Route to the drink mixing, we wandered through this Old Folks home/project in the East Village. In the middle of the courtyard we saw a dead pigeon with its head submerged in the dirt. The filthy and diseased bird looked as though it had just given up on life, and to (literally) paint a picture for those of you who unfortunately could not witness this, here ya go:

Ah good ole' paint, it's been a while since I dabbled with you. The sight was so darkly hilarious that we all bursted into guffaws... much to the dismay of a gentlemen sitting nearby. I believe the aftermath of our death-giggles went a lil' somethin' like this:

Disgruntled Stranger: Hey! Are you laughing because that pigeon is dead?
Jodi: To be completely honest, yes. Yes we are.
Me: *face pink with excessive laughter*
Disgruntled Stranger: That ain't funny! That was a livin' thing. You gonna die someday too!
Jodi: I hope that when I do, I die as comically as that bird.

I may end up writing a more detailed blog about all the adventures that ensued last week, but for now you'll just have to deal with the suicidal pigeon anecdote and some choice pictures from that day: