Monday, October 19, 2009

Fuck You, Bees

I just got back from a very exhausting work trip to Portland. Yesterday I technically had off (I say "off" because I still had to drive my bosses to the airport and deal with their endless jokes about drunk yours truly, not to mention the ceaseless back seat commentary on my driving skills), so I met up with some local homies to pick some pumpkins before my red eye back to Brooklyn.

I was super stoked to do something "normal" that doesn't include hanging out with coworkers at strip clubs, and then wouldn't you know it I got stung by a fucking bee. I picked out this adorable abnormally shaped pumpkin by the stem and suddenly I screamed out and threw it down. There was a stupid bee sitting on the top that I failed to notice. I haven't been stung since I was a kid when a bee flew into my eye (it was swollen shut for 3 days). I couldn't remember if I was deathly allergic or not so started flipping out, thinking I was going to die in 3 minutes from asphyxiation.

Luckily I have many friends who are smarter than me and tried calling a bunch of them. I finally got through to my boy Krishna who promptly told me an answer that sounded smart enough to believe and I calmed down about my impending death. He was even kind enough to call a 3rd-year med student to confirm his theories and called me back again to say I was in the clear.

Hot damn though if my finger didn't hurt like a bitch for 10 hours. Fuck you, bees. It's a small consolation that my pain results in your death, but I'd like to kill the lot of you.

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