bees

So.

Lemme just start by playing the blame game with why I don't EVER post on here. The latest blame of it all? I don't have a computer.

It is unbearably almost IMPOSSIBLE to post on a phone. Also, the job stopped sending internet services to the house, so I cannot use the office there. So since I don't have a pooter for my pleasure, I have to wait until I go to my parents to "help" pack up the crap that is in the house and pretend that I alone am the holder of the Mac and the endless wifi.

Amazing.

I may or may not be listening to Sarah McLachlan while writing this. There is a fine line between what I label as "mom music" and "lesbian music". She crosses waaay too much. But hey, she reminds me of the sister, so what can I do? Also, Ang loves the lesbo artists, which is strange, but great at the same time.

So I guess it is story time. I will start with my most painful one. There I was, at the after school program, pretending that I know how to garden for a class. Well, I left the most important thing at my house (the seeds) so I just made the kiddies go outside in the sun so I could try to get some sort of vitamin D in my body. Well, I decided to sit in the grass when it felt like I was sitting in a patch of stinging nettle. Seriously, my butt has not been in that much pain since I was hit by the leprechaun last St. Patty's Day. I couldn't find where it came from, until I moved over a bit.

In the grass, I found a bee.

Yes, a bee was able to sting my butt through two layers of clothing. What the crap.

So I hobbled into the school to figure out what to do. I told the secretary that I was stung and I didn't know what to do. Also, at this point, I was crying. Go me. So she helped make me some weird mixture of baking soda and water so I could put the paste on my derriere to suck out....the evil of bees out of me. Worst experience ever. Just don't try to imagine me crying in the bathroom trying to put paste on my butt. Then one of the kids was like, "Why don't you call your mom, Miss Waterfall?" That made me bawl because I realized that
A: I have never been stung before
B: No one can help me right now because, oh I was just stung on my butt
C: You are never too old for mom's wisdom of what to do when things happen
D: I still need my mom for emotional times like this.
E: All of the above

I called the Nimmer, she told me to put mud on it (yeah right) then go to the ER immediately if my throat closed up. Awesome.

I survived that.