My car got egged last night. There's dried yolk, egg white and a few pieces of the shell on top of the driver's door and the roof. Cute.
A bird once pooped on my face at Seaworld or Disneyland a few years ago, and nothing, not even an entire carton of eggs, could be worse than that warm sticky white mess.
Well I have no idea how to get the egg off my car, I'm rather pleased to have joined the elite company of one of my favorite court reporters (from a real paper, in a real city) who also fell victim to flying eggs.
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1 comment:
y'all lucky your ass ain't in detroit or chicago, sis, those eggs coulda been bullets....
however, as they were only chickens periods...
fab!
tres lois lane!
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