12 August 2006

superjanel vs. the bee

fucking bee

and the bee fucking won. oh, did he ever. i so got my ass kicked by this cute little flower-loving bumble bee. curious as to how this happened? let me enlighten you.

so. superjanel gets home from work, after dealing with jackass passengers and their heavy ass shit all day long. she's really in no mood for anything, but fluffy white puppy has to go outside - it's the routine. [who am i to deny him his outside time?] so they go outside and he proceeds to freak out, running and barking and growling and chasing his tail, and she eventually tires of chasing f.w.p. and sits down in the yard.

on. a. fucking. bumble. bee.

superjanel got stung in the ass by a big ass - large, huge, ginormous - bumble bee. and as if that weren't insulting enough, the damn bee didn't die. nope. he lived long enough to sting her again - in the crick of her elbow. bastard fucking bee. now is a great time to inform our lovely readers that superjanel is deathly allergic to bees. and wasps. and hornets and so on and so forth. last time she was stung was in like the seventh grade or some shit like that and it was ugly. really ugly.

anyway. let's continue. almost instantly, her ankles started to swell and then her calves, and then her wrists and hands and her face and throat. remember that show, life goes on? the one with the retarded kid corky? when this happens to superjanel, she looks like corky. in fact, let's call her corky for the remainder of this story. so corky attempts to round up the dog because she has to do one of two things. stab herself in the thigh with her epi pen or go to the er at the lovely local infirmary, where people go to die. so, after chasing the dog (who won't come to her because he doesn't recognize her tweaked out voice or her freaky-ass face), she gets in the car and finds the epi pen. however, she doesn't have the balls (literally and figuratively) to stab herself in the thigh. so corky drives her pathetic swelling ass to the er, announces to the nurse on duty, "i got thtung by a bee" and has to get at least four shots - IN THE ASS - to get the swelling to go down. corky stopped counting at four, but thinks it was about seven.

seven shots in the ass. seven. i have a very popular ass this year. everytime i get sick or whatever, i have to have a shot in the ass. texas. iowa. it doesn't matter anymore. whatever i get, the fucking cure is a shot in the ass. unfortunately i'm comfortable when anyone tells me to drop my drawers... well. not anyone. well, some people. others i could get comfortable with easily. :D

anyway. it was perfectly awful. terrible. everyone i told, with the exception of fat eddy, was sympathetic and shocked. brent introduced a bee clause into our kidney failure/concussion contract (isn't that sweet?) and what did my dear, dear, soon to be ex-husband do? fat eddy just grunted. I COULD HAVE DIED and he just grunted. "huh." fucker. i hate him and his stupid ass. "huh." i'll show you "huh," fucktard. grrrr...

i slept in this morning, as long as f.w.p. would let me, and i still don't feel quite right, but at least my face isn't fat and swollen like it was last night. that was terrible. i won't get to sleep in tomorrow, at all, or the next day - i've picked up lots of hours on my days off so i don't have to be home. it sucks being home. i hate being here, but i would have to agree with the advice i've been given that if i leave first i'm likely to get screwed in the proceedings to follow. while i don't expect to receive much, i would like to get out and be okay. so i'll stay and make the fucker miserable. ...how is this different from everyday life? i'm not sure. but i guess i'm waking up with this specific goal instead of just dumb lucking into it. hehehehehe...

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