Ever since the hives I am paranoid about bees. Even a loud buzz is enough to make me jerk my head around like a crazy person. J was level-headed enough to call our pest company and remind them to cut down the hives that get built in our eaves each summer. I am choosing to believe this was out of love for me and not because he didn't want to go through anymore bitching.
When I got in my car this afternoon a bee somehow got trapped in the front. It buzzed around wildly, like it was drunk, and it was all I could do not to flail around. Swatting at it was not an option, with my luck I would just get stung in the hand. I couldn't even freak out because I was hurtling down the road at forty miles an hour.
All I could do was whimper like a fucking baby.
The bee fucking sat on my nose. Can y'all imagine the hive I would get on my nose? I would look like a wino that got wacked in the face with a 2x4. SEXY.
I must have pissed of some bees in my life. For the ugly bee conspiracy that plotted to put two in my jeans in the tanning booth and then to try to give me a stroke by sitting on my nose and freaking me the fuck out.
Is it any wonder that I just had to come home, eat a Hostess cupcake and lay on some pillows?
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