If you live somewhere in the vicinity of the Biko house, you live the daily turmoil of being woken up in the morning by… What? WHAT is that NOISE. Seagulls? Am I still dreaming? What time is it? That’s when it dawns on you. Chickens. Squawking, clucking, grade-A hangover factory livestock. Good luck sleeping with the window closed if your room faces the east and you like waking up sweat-free. After the rage subsides you may be left with confusion. Who in the heart of Isla Vista has the balls to own chickens? Do they kill the chickens? I worry that I’ll wake up one morning to the sound of chicken slaughter.

Tomorrow’s Forecast: I’ve been woken up from annoyances ranging from jack hammers to fire alarms to unwelcomed spooning, but chickens? I feel I speak for all when I say they would be appreciated instead as breakfast burritos. C’mon chickens, take one for the team.