Beeeeeee Yourself

I fear bees. I fear them a lot and there is no logic behind it. I've never been stung by a bee. I've never accidentally eaten one. I've never even been chased by one. But none of that matters because they scare the living crap out of me. I might (MIGHT) be able to trace it back to a little movie called My Girl, but I won't even go there.

(Sidebar: the other day I had a dream where I was friends with a kid who looked EXACTLY like Maculay Culkin and he was a total druggie. Lesson? I need cooler friends.)

Anyway, so I'm on - duh - the bus the other day and in comes this bee and lands right on my leg. In a very un-Eugenia fashion, I scopped it off of my leg and onto the floor with my purse and then tried really hard not to worry that it was going to freak out and eat my face in retaliation. I would have succeeded if it wasn't for the fact that some girl sat next to me (trapping me between her and the window) and then the old couple behind me started discussing the bee very loudly. The thing is, the bee had somehow flown up and was crawling around on the window next to the old lady (RIGHT BEHIND ME). So, the old man is trying to kill it — which I was taught to believe is generally bad idea — and the old lady is saying "you're gonna make it mad, you're gonna make it mad." Then he flicks (!!!) the bee right in my direction and it falls somewhere in the vicinity of my feet but we're all unsure and no one is more worried than me that it will now not only eat my face but my right hand and then leave me to live a life of freakish misery with no face and no right hand. You can understand my concern, I'm sure. So, I'm freaking out about this bee, asking the old man "DID YOU KILL IT?! IS IT DEAD?! WHERE IS IT!?" And I'm sure I was actually yelling because I had my headphones on and I couldn't tell how loud I was talking but he still wasn't really answering me just kind of laughing, and the old lady is like "I don't believe you killed it. I really don't think you killed it." That helped a lot. Thanks old lady.

Worst bus ride ever.

Eventually I moved to the other side of the bus because I couldn't stand the thought of that damn thing crawling up my leg all pissed off about the scooping and the flicking and the yelling. Thankfully I still have a fully functional face (and right hand) but it was a close call, I'll tell you. Which leads me to ask the question, if you're not supposed to try and kill the bee and you're not supposed to run away from it because it will follow you, then what the hell ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO DO? My god those things are evil.

Bzzzzzz,
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