The Next Big Thing

Part Two:  "Pooping on Patio Chairs."  In my backyard, this goes on for months.  The birds of Sherman Oaks keep using my patio chairs as their personal porta-potties.  Well.  The SJG is not amused.  I don't wish to look out and see bird crap on my patio chairs.  I don't wish to sit on patio chairs adorned with bird crap.  I'm so done with bird crap.  Done, I tell ya.  I'll have you know it's ruffling my eff'n feathers.  Call me obsessive (you wouldn't be the first) but instead of working on my long-gestating novel, my bestselling Beach Read, my fun and uplifting, page-turning ouevre, I spend my time rearranging the patio chairs in an effort to dodge the afore-mentioned angry b droppings.  It is my private Titanic, my cross to bear.  I ask you:  isn't it enough that I must scoop Dusty's poop into Doggy Duty recyclables on a daily basis?  What am I, the maven of waste disposal?  Maybe I wouldn't kvetch so much if they made a similar depository for birds, something scented with E-Z ties.  Whoa.  Hang on a second, sistah.  I may have stumbled onto something huge.  I can see it now:  Birdy Booty Bags.  A new eco-friendly product, courtesy of, who else, the SJG (patent pending).  Oh, hell yes, I'm gonna make dollars off of bird sh*t if it's the last thing I doo-doo.