>I finally did something embarrassing…

>and I know how much fun it is to read about embarrassing stuff I’ve been up to. So here I was innocently enjoying my Sunday as I watched a marathon of Law & Order when a buzzing sound caused me to look at my counter. There it was. A waspy-stripey-bee-looking-not-a-bee. Now, I am pretty sure that is not it’s scientific name however as a descriptor it works.

I am not scared of bee’s. I like bees…but remember, this is a ‘not-a-bee’. I decided for my sense of comfort to remove the not a bee from my apartment as it appeared to be making sweet sweet love to my beverage straw. I tried to be subtle–I grasped my straw below the not-a-bee and started working my way towards the door.
This is where it all. went. wrong.
Right in front of the door the not-a-bee decided it was done raping my straw and moved on to my stripey pajama pants….apparently the pants’ stripes called to the not-a-bee’s stripes and he fell in LOVE. I stood stock still, waiting for him to fall out of love with the pants. Finally, what felt like an hour but in reality was about 30 seconds he flew off my pants and began darting at my face….and here is where I screeched like a banshee and ran for my stairs. I. ran. from. a. bug.
and screeched. I am not proud. My big dog, sensing danger of her master running and screaming rolled over and snored. My smaller dog, sensing the danger of his master running and screaming ran the other way.
Once I hit the stairs I looked back for the not-a-bee, there he was, snickering at me from the oatmeal container. I grabbed a shot glass and pinned him to the oatmeal container. Ha ha ha–opposable thumbs win again BIATCH! Then, I took him outside and released said not-a-bee to glorious freedom which he used to fly RIGHT AT MY FACE!! to which I screamed, threw the shot glass at not-a-bee, and ran inside slamming my door.
I’m not proud.
Next time I’m gonna squish it.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s