So what if I’m not a bird, I live in Port Saint Lucie and I fly, so get over it. And here’s a secret . . .
Look, up inthe sky. It’s a bird. It’s a plane. Oh, nevermind, it’s just an egret.
Look, up in the sky, it’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s … another egret with no map.
Wait, you want ballet dancers? The egret said this was a tap audition. Teach me to listen to a bird.
If I flipped you the bird, how would you ever know?
And they all said, “Go south for the winter.” It’s 42 freaking degrees out here!
If you want to stand out in a crowd, you have to be bold. That’s a cardinal rule.
For the umpteenth time, I am not now and never have been a riveter.
Hey, I can’t help it that I am the cutest bird out here. Live with it.
Yup, I’m pink under here too. My beauty is more than feather deep.