Effin’.

I’m sick today with the fever and the chills and the headache and the sore throat and I blame it all on Tina Fey for bringing it with her from Texas. So I’m not just regular sick. I’m TEXAS sick. It’s bigger. It’s badder. Its accent is a bit annoying and hard to understand.

So forgive me if my snark/wit doesn’t have as much jalapeño sauce on it today as it should.

Can we talk pigeons and PETA and how much they both bug me?

LONDON, June 24 (Reuters) - Wimbledon came under fire from animal activists on Tuesday for using marksmen to shoot down dive-bombing pigeons.

The tournament employs two hawks to scare away pigeons who had become a pest swooping down on Centre Court and distracting players in the middle of tense matches.

But the hawks failed to keep the pigeons away from the players’ lawn and the open-air media restaurant so marksmen were called in.

“The hawks are our first line of deterrent, and by and large they do the job,” Wimbledon spokesman Johnny Perkins said.

“But unfortunately there were one or two areas where the hawks didn’t deter the pigeons, so it was deemed necessary to take a harder approach,” he explained.

The marksmen were summoned by Wimbledon as pigeon droppings on the restaurant tables were thought to be a health hazard.

The decision to call in the marksmen was condemned as “cruel and illegal behaviour” by People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) which complained to the tournament organisers and the police.

“Since the use of marksmen to kill pigeons appears to have been carried out as a first, rather than a last resort, and not out of a concern for public health, but rather because the animals were deemed inconvenient by players, you appear to be in clear violation of the law,” PETA vice-president Bruce Friedrich said.

1. First, killing pigeons is not “cruel and illegal behaviour” when the pigeons are dive-bombing tennis players and pooping on dining tables. Getting rid of them is necessary and getting to kill them is just icing on the cake, really.

2. If I’m making this up, may the hand of God once again come down and bitch-slap me with Ebola on top of Texas Death that I’m currently suffering through, yesterday, the Family of PittGirl and all 6,230 children spent the afternoon at the Zoo where I’m pretty sure the gorilla mooned me on purpose. We headed to the eating area to get some ice cream and as I was feeding one of the children with a spoon, I felt a drop on my lap and looked down to see a white splotch. A splotch I assumed was ice cream falling from the spoon. So I swiped it away with my finger.

And then I realized ice cream isn’t usually this warm, this gooey, or this foul smelling. Hey. This isn’t ice cream. This is bird poop!

Even after I cleaned my hand with 42 baby wipes, I could still FEEL the poison on my finger. I might burn the skirt I was wearing. 6,230 people sitting around me and I’m the one that gets hit.

So Mr. PETA Friedrich, excuse me when I say that I don’t really care if they’re taking the birds out with bird shot, or with poison darts through the head, or if they’re having well-to-do British gentlemen in dress whites running out onto the courts and ripping their mothereffin’ heads off with extreme effin’ prejudice.

They’re getting what they deserve. And I only wish I could be there to witness it in person.

But I’m stuck here praying for the sweet release of death. And hoping that when it comes, there are no pigeons in heaven.

Because if there are, I am so screwed.

(h/t Honda Driver, Bill, JCL, Jen, Mark, Shannon, Derek, Steve, Christy, Arika, Different Steve, Kevin, Ruth Ann and Nolan. Hope I didn’t miss anyone!)