Wanted for Robbery: Steve

Becky (who was visiting this past weekend from Illinois) and I spent our Monday basking in the Malibu sun (sans sunblock on our buns, which really fried and hurt later in the night).

As we watched dolphins, traded bad magazines, napped, played in the waves that were GInormous as our bodies were numb from the arctic cold water, we pondered on what we should do next.

The Good Boyfriend o' Mine called and said, "Since your in MEL-ibu, why not go to Moonshadows?" It didn't sound so riveting as this mama had had her share of mojitos the night before, but what a fun story to tell em' back home, right Beck??

So we left our amazingly warm beach slumber to trek up the PCH.

Upon arriving at the valet stand, we were able to breath in the mix of ocean air and PCH fumage. The valet dudes were super nice as we drowned-rattily skittered inside.

Moonshadows is VERY nice. There are quite a few okay beachy food/bar places on the PCH, but this is definitely one of the better ones.

The staff was unbelievably friendly. I mean, friendly like you wanted to hang out with them friendly. As we reached our seats in the corner of the back deck bar, we noted that this bar is ON the water, which made us VERY happy. We each ordered a drink as the group of afternoon drinkers all started the discussion of Mel Gibson. I then added in my "Nick Nolte AND Vince Neil both have been drunk here," as "ooooh" and "ahhhhs" came soaring through the air.

Then we noticed there was bird poop falling like mini-bombs from the heavens above. And then there was one brave-ass bird that swooped down and sat right next to me.

This bird has cajones bigger than Texas as he forcefully walked right over to my drink and stared at it, trying to make it his own. I grabbed at my very delicious pina colada when this CRAZY wailing noise came out of him. I somehow understood this wail. I do speak bird from time to time so I took a piece of bread that our waiter Brad had left and stuck my hand out as a peace offering. Bird ate half of it, kind of nodded and then SPIT the rest of it out. He then nodded to me and made a screech. I understood. He was waiting for me to butter it.

As I now, under the seering eyes of Bird, started buttering a piece of bread for him, Brad the waiter came out and said, "Oh, that's Steve."

Steve isn't just ANY bird, he's the Moonshadows bandit. Seems that the night before, Steve swooped down and grabbed a man's steak off of his plate. Sometimes its been hats, other times he's stuck his head into drinks. He's notorious. He's a little pissed off. He's Steve.

After my own dealings with birds over the years, I am not one to take chances with angry ones, so I sweetly buttered the bread, handed it over to him and in his special bird squawk way he said, "Thank you, Ma'am."

Ma'am?? Steve, I'm only 33. Ma'am??

What a bastard!

This is Steve.