In lieu of the recent tropical rainforest-esque weather and onslaught of never-ending torrential rains in PA, the plant life here has been growing wild and out of control. People’s yards are starting to look like a scene out of Jumanji. You know what they say; April showers bring May flowers. In this case, it brings May dandelions. Billions of them. What little square footage of yard we have at our apartment here in Greensburg is being taken over by dandelions. They are sprouting up every which way, dominating the yard and choking out the grass. Even more concerning, however, is how many bees they are attracting.
I have not yet been stung by a bee in my life. I have gone 23 nice long years avoiding it. Unfortunately, the odds are against me at this point. The bee to person ratio on our property is about 150 to 5. I’m screwed. Making my way from my vehicle to my front door is like walking through a battle zone every single day. These are no tiny honey bees, either. I’m talking bumble bees the size of Smart Cars zooming around by the hundreds. Not only am I afraid to be stung by one, but I’m almost equally afraid of being impaled by one. They dart around like little black and yellow fighter jets. Loud buzzing bombs just ready to attack. I’m terrified.
What delirious artist ever decided that this was an accurate portrayal of a giant, stinger-wielding bumble bee? What kind of rave drugs were they taking? (Get at me about them). How many bees do you see frolicking around your yard with a silly little smile on its face, handing out hugs? No.
Worse than being stung by a bumble bee however would be being stung by a wasp. Wasps are detestable, nasty creatures. What an awful insect. They look like miniature Satans. It’s like hell’s version of My Little Pony. They’re so evil-looking. Those stingers? Those sharp, jutting wings? They’re wicked insects. I will go absolutely ape-shit if I find myself in a compromising position with a wasp or wasps. You will see a lunatic come out of me that you’ve never seen before. I will do anything and everything to avoid being attacked by these ferocious devils. Pass me the Raid. If I see a wasp nest in progress in, on, or around my home, it’ll be bombs away, motherf*@#&rs. Hasta la vista.
One of the recent search terms entered to locate my blog by someone out in the cyber universe was this: stupod people at the gym
…Let’s play “spot the irony.”
On June 12th, I am finally eligible for a cell phone upgrade. Thank god. I am seconds away from breaking my Blackberry in half and feeding it to a bear. It’s slow, spastic, unresponsive—really it’s a vegetable. I may as well be trying to send text messages on a cucumber. Ugh. I don’t know what I’m going to replace this piece of shit with though. A Droid? An iPhone 4? The new HTC Thunderbolt? I don’t know anything about any of them. I know that the Thunderbolt has 4G capabilities. But I don’t know what that means either. Haha. I need to go to a Verizon store and play around on smart phones for six hours straight and have a salesman talk me into one and out of the others. We’ll see how it goes.
What smart phone do you kiddies out there in the universe have? Give me your input. I need it.
Love, peace, my phone’s a piece,
“Can I request to see someone else?”
“Yes, that is your right.”
“Well can I see someone else right now?”
“No, this is a doctor’s office. You have to set an appointment. This isn’t McDonald’s.”