Birds. So many birds. I mean, I like birds, I guess...but not these birds. These birds were dropping doo-doo on my head. Twice. It's a freak accident of one singel bird drops doo-doo on your head, but three? Three piles of doo-doo? In my hair? This will not go unpuncished. I called my dad, he seems to know how to get rid of every annoying animal out there. " Dad", I said when he answed the phone, "Dad, I;ve got a bird problem in my yard. They're doo-doo machines! Every time I walk out pf my house, especially on Fridays, they poop on my head. Today, I drove to work with three piles of doo-doo in my hair. The kids said I smellled and a fe wactually barfed on their textbooks when they saw me." My dad, always very pensive, said after a fe wseconds, "Come over here tonight son. I've got a few things to take care of these doo-doo birds." Later that evebing, I drove across town to my dad's house. I walked into his garage and he showed me the solution to my bird problems. No, not pink slime. It was music...Justin Beiber music! "Play