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Pigeons On A Wire

Ladies, if you continue to perch yourselves up next to VIP tables in the club, you will keep looking desperate. If no one has called your flat sandals -in club- wearing ass to their table… flapping off elsewhere might be a more suitable option. Why are girls wearing sandals and ballet flats in the club anyway? Did I miss the memo? I should have brought my surfboard. Maybe next time I’ll bring my tutu. Last time I checked, even if you are rolling in with your flock of girlfriends, neighborhood deep, dressing up is the freaking fun part of going out. No, some of you look like your hitting the gym for a post-alcoholic workout.

If you post up to a handrail without the intent to be friendly or outgoing, you basically are telling the rest of us club-goers that you’re roosting. Cock-a-doodle-doo! Start flapping your wings. And, while we’re on it, when did girls stop wearing makeup at the club? You didn’t just roll out of your coop. Apply that war paint and let’s do it right! Sigh. And please, take your hair out of that sad little bun on top of your head… it looks more like a bread knot you get in your carbohydrate-filled basket at dinner. Stop it.

Let this percolate penguins. I don’t go to the club to meet a man. Sorry guys to disappoint. Take note that your overbearing cock stance doesn’t stand a second in my pen. Plus, I feel so bad for your spandex shirt fighting for its life to hang on. Poor stitches. But, should that option present itself, I should feel like I did my thing. Got dressed in something other than a robe. Pajama party? Strapped on shoes that don’t have shoestrings on them. Im a point guard on these chickens. Either way, smacking your gum like you are using your jaws to fight the demons isn’t going to land you Mr. Right Now. Or a good time Charlie either.

Maybe if squaking fits your fancy, shuffling your tail feather on over to a VIP table and just saying hello is the right thing to do. Hello, my name is Awesome. What might you have to drink there? Oh, you think I’m pretty? You like my dress? Aw, gee, thanks, I just fell out of the hay waking up this great, thank you.

Even pigeons fly south for the winter. Might have to look that reference up. Could be wrong. Point is,  take a chance. Fly the thermals! Wait. No thermals. Get your unidentified flying object ready to soar.   Free your bird!

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