Queen Bee Sting

I've been neglecting my blog. You would think that since I am unemployed and all, I would be posting all the time, but there are a few factors that keep me from doing that. One, I feel ridiculous writing every day, like are there really people reading this on a daily basis that care what I have to say? And two, I am actually a lot busier then I had expected. Its rare that I have a block of time to sit down and write (just ask my unwritten thesis that I was supposed to be working on all summer). I'm thinking about getting a keyboard for my Palm so that I can type up random stuff when I'm out, but then I think that is pretentious. Oh well, I'll try to get better. Maybe when I start school again next week, I can put myself on some kind of schedule.

If you couldn't assume from the title of this blog, I got stung by a bee this week. I was at Santa Monica Beach with some friends from out of town and their parents (I would never go to the beach of my own volition). An old friend from Chicago and her sister were in town with their family for a family vacation and they called me up to hang out. I had originally envisioned this as a one or two night thing, but it turned into a three day, four night extravaganza of mostly drinking from which I am still recovering.

Back to the bee sting. Monday was the calmest of our outings, I took my friends and their parents to Santa Monica to got to the promenade, the pier, and to just lounge on the beach. I had just gotten on the phone with my mother about something that at the time seemed imperative to talk about, when I noticed a stinging pain.

Me: "Mom, I got to go"
Mom: "Every thing okay?"
Me: "No Mom, I think I just got stung by a bee on my ass."

My friends then proceeded to examine my ass for me to determine that yes, that is in fact a bee sting. We walked over to the lifeguard to see if he could help.

My friend: "My friend got stung by a bee, do you have anything for that?"
Lifeguard: "Sure, let me take a look at the sting."
Me: "Its on my ass."
Lifeguard: "Alrighty then, no need to see it, take this topical cream. And make sure there is no stinger left in there."

We go back to the towel and my friends once again have to examine my ass. As they are doing that, two things happen. First, they bang heads as each tries to get a closer look. It was seriously turning into a Three Stooges bit. Then, their parents come back from their walk on the beach to find their daughters examining my ass. It was really an interesting position to be in. Their mom joins in the fun as we tried to figure out how to open this topical stuff the lifeguard had given us. You'd think five grown people wouldn't have that much trouble, but we did. My friend's mom finally had to go back to the lifeguard to ask him how to do it.

The whole thing was a complete debacle. Meanwhile, I was wearing a black floral bathing suit, a yellow tank top, and black pants. Could there be any truth to the theory that bees like yellow and black? I always thought that was bull, but it does seem pretty suspicious. I was Queen Bee for the rest of the day.