Pelican Poo

After spending most of the morning preparing the vehicle for our cross-country trek(oil change+new tires=500 bucks-I hate cars soo much), i decided to take a leisurely drive down hwy 1 to Monterey to see Cannery Row(I know...shut the fuck up w/ the Steinbeck already). I didn't really know how to get there but I found it w/ suprisingly few problems. Monterey Bay was fuckin fantastic. I strolled around w/ my camera gawking at the pelicans as a group of sea lions sang sweetly in the distance. The only thing I was missing from my tourist ensemble was a fanny pack bearing the phrase "Beach or Bust" filled w/ snacks and extra film. From there I continued my journey to Monterey to yet another one of Steinbeck's old haunts, Cannery Row. I continued my strolling and picture-taking shananigans and I had a fuckin blast doin it. I hit up a darling independent record store and treated myself to a cd. All of these things were well and good but the most amazing thing that happened during my latest excursion did not involve Cannery Row, the beautiful scenery, or even the sea lions. The pelicans take the cake, win the blue ribbon, whatever choice phrase tickles your fancy. The thing that impressed me was not their graceful aerial movements or how they can divebomb the poor little fishies before those pea brained goldfish realize what has hit them. As I walked back to my car, I quickly realized that the pelicans had left me an unwrapped and unwelcome present. I have never seen bird shit like that before. It was like a thousand pigeons got together, ate a bunch of one dollar bean burritos, covered them in mayonnaise and cheap hot sauce, washed them down w/ tequila and collectively took a ferocious power dump on the hood of the Jeep. It really was quite impressive. So the next time you're on the coast admiring these majestic birds you might want to wear a hat or bring an umbrella. Hats off to ya, my feathered friends.