Beecause I should be doing homework instead…

So, I’m allergic to bees. I happened to find this out one Summer whilst sunbathing on a beach in Carlsbad. I got stung near my armpit and the next thing I know I’m having heart palpitations.  Of course I didn’t really do anything about it…I had my boyfriend at the time pull the stinger out and then once I felt normal again, I went for a swim thinking the cool water would feel good on my arm. Unfortunately, the next morning my arm was swollen and purple and in pain. Off to the doctor I went (where I got a lecture for not appearing in his office sooner) for a shot and some antibiotics.

The next summer, whilst laying on a beach in Oceanside, I again got stung. Knowing full well what would happen, we left the beach and went home where I convinced my parents that my heart wasn’t in any danger and I was just going to wait it out. So I waited until my leg was more like a purple tree trunk and then proceeded to go to Urgent Care. Same routine–shot and some meds. Apparently I’m not allowed to have a “Bee Sting Kit” (as my dad calls it) because my reactions are different every time and generally localized severe allergic ones–so it’s not really that big of a deal.

On my way home from school today, I’m flying down the 78 with my windows down, singing along to whatever happened to be playing on my iPod when I drove through a swarm of bees–what they were doing in the middle of the 78, I will never know. I thought I had gotten through the swarm without any hitchhikers, but I was wrong. A few minutes later a bee buzzed by my head and then flew down to my legs. I immediately started freaking out and swatting at it while swerving all over my lane–I temporarily forgot I was even driving. I gained enough composure to see the bee fly up my dress which is when I frantically started mashing up the skirt of my dress in an effort to kill the thing before it stung anywhere near my delicate lady parts; all while driving. I practically had the entire skirt of my dress in a wad at my side. I pulled into my driveway, turned off the engine and just sat there unsure of what to do next. I thought to myself,

” What if the thing is still alive in there somewhere? If it is, it’s probably pretty pissed and I’m going to end up in Urgent Care again. Maybe if I slowly unravel my dress? Maybe I should try and slip this dress off and just run to the door in my undies? Ugh, sick, there are probably bee guts all over. Jeez. I really don’t want any swollen limbs. Or worse, a swollen vagina! I’m leaving for San Francisco tomorrow, this is not happening.”

After a few more minutes of contemplation, I slowly and carefully unraveled my dress, only to find there was absolutely nothing there! No bee, no bee guts. What the f?! Oh well, better than getting stung or having to wash bee guts off of my dress.  But now I keep getting the sensation that there is a phantom bee crawling on me. Even as I write this, I feel like it’s crawling on my arms, legs or back. Paranoia.

Poor bee, I probably traumatized it.

**UPDATE: After further inspection in my truck, I found the bee. Dead, near the gas/brake pedals on the floor. I either stomped on it or gave it a heart attack. Either way, RIP little bee.

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I’d like long hair now, please.

So, it’s not as if I don’t have anything to write; it’s just that I haven’t the patience to write it. But I’ll give it a go…I just don’t know where to start…

This past month has been…different. Obviously, I’ve been dealing with the fact that I’m leaving San Francisco; the place I’ve called home for the past two years and that’s been an ever changing struggle in itself, but one that I feel I’m handling quite well (now that I’ve pretty much gotten over the denial). For practically the first half of this month I’ve been out of state. At first I had only planned on being gone for about 4 days, but then decided to further my denial about leaving and going away for 10 days instead; making moving out of SF out of sight and practically out of mind. Clearly I enjoy putting off the shit I don’t want to deal with until I absolutely have to.

So, as you may (or may not) remember, I made a small post about my last trip to Minnesota: Misuse of drugs and alcohol before the flight, hangovers, petrified cats and insomnia. It was a quick trip, so I didn’t really get comfortable until the last day I was there. This trip was a little different…

Now, I know you’re thinking, “Minnesota?! What a joke! What could there possibly be to do there?!” And you’re right, there isn’t much. However, it was a nice break from the city. To start, I hung out on my brother’s yacht on the Mississippi for the first four days I was there. From airport straight to yacht. It was fantastic. I relaxed, I swam, I ate, enjoyed time with my family, I took in the scenes. There was live music and fireworks every night.

Once we got back to my brothers house, my week consisted of sleeping in, going to the pool and swimming laps, drinking coffee, reading, writing and exploration. All of this I did with my new BFF Rex:

Rex the MinPin aka TinyWonderDog.

He was pretty awesome. I honestly didn’t like him much when we first met–he was tiny, pea-brained and seemed to have zero personality. Turns out, he was just shy. We seemed to have a connection and it was sad when I had to leave.

Now, I’m sure this all sounds relaxing and easygoing, but this is where that all ends; because on the last night of my trip I was fairly positive I was going to die! And no, I’m not joking. I was sending out text messages to those near and dear to me letting them know that I love them because I was 99.9% positive that it was all going to be over after that night.

Long story short, I got in the car with someone I trusted, but didn’t know well, who also turned out to be drunk. He was driving 110+ mph on a windy, two-lane highway in the rain, drunk. And the Camero we were in didn’t have airbags because they had already been deployed at one point or another. The driver had also totaled his truck just a few weeks prior because he was drunk (go figure) and hit a tree.  (My brother is under the impression he hit a deer that ran out in front of him, I didn’t get the real story until I was already in the Camero going 110 down the highway.) Anyway, the next thing I know, there’s a sharp turn in the highway and we’re doing 360’s all over the highway and land in a ditch (that we almost weren’t able to get out of). I felt as if I was in a video game or bad action flick. I kept envisioning us flipping over and burning alive or spinning out of control into another car or tree next. Either way, it was going to be painful and I was going to end up dead on some podunk highway in rural Minnesota. I kept trying to think of a way to escape the situation, but all of my solutions left me alone in the near dark, in the rain, in the middle of nowhere. Let the text messaging ensue.

To be continued…