The Real Housewives of New York City Recap: Humpty Dance


Last week, I woke up one morning to find a pigeon in my kitchen. This was because I live in England, a country that refuses air-conditioning like Jenny McCarthy refuses a smallpox vaccine. It also, strangely, refuses to put screens in the windows, so you’re stuck in a situation where the windows are open all the time and there are just bugs and flies swirling around your television set at night like it’s the porch light on a trailer at an RV park in Mississippi. And pigeons can just fly into your house and leave grime and poop all over your window ledges.

This pigeon was trapped in a window where one half swings open and the other doesn’t move. Somehow it got itself lodged into the part of the casement with the immovable glass. It was flapping its wings and banging its head against the window repeatedly. It cooed and screeched like it was in a Prince song, creating a cloud of feathers like from a ’50s movie with a pillow fight or Erika Jayne’s “XXPEN$IVE” music video. Finally, my husband grabbed a candlestick and tried to prod the pigeon out of the open half of the window just inches away. Even as he attempted to help it, it was raging against him, wings flapping and head butting up against the glass so hard it left a smudge. Eventually, we got the poor thing dislodged. As it flew away into the gloom of a London summer, I thought to myself, We should name that bird Dorinda Medley.


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