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Wednesday
Sep082010
Bees Scare the Crap Out of Me. And I Heart Public Shame.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
I haven't owned a decent fall coat in at least two years.
Scratch that. I have not only not owned a decent fall coat in at least two years, but I have also not owned any fall coat. Why? I was too busy using beer to keep myself numb against the cold.
This year, though, I decided that it was high time I buy myself a fall coat. It hit me when I found myself shuffling down the street in one of the Palinode's cast-off numbers whose sleeves trailed past my knuckles and neck sported impressive ring-around-the-collar. Actually, it really only hit me when I was wearing it and a homeless guy lowered his paper cup when I walked by to wait for the next pedestrian to turn on the shine. Still, it did hit me.
I decided to remedy my accidental homeless look and walked into one of those fashion discount stores where I found this really loud, double-breasted, lime-green coat, because Maggie said I needed something that made me laugh when I put it on. This coat did, so I bought it. If you have a problem with it, take your complaints to Maggie Mason.
It was cool this morning, and, for once, I was happy about the fall weather, because it meant that I could wear my new! fall coat!
I set out on my walk to work feeling like a million dollars, baby. When I crossed the street and that lady looked at me while she waited to turn, I knew that she was coveting my new! fall coat! That guy who stared at me on the corner a couple of blocks later? He was thinking that he could totally get with me in my new! fall coat! I was golden in that coat.
And then, the bee came along.
I was waiting for the lights to change so I could cross a major intersection when this huge bee started flying figure-eights around my knees. I hopped sideways and thought the bee had flown on.
"You've still got the bee," the-guy-who-wanted-to-get-with-me said.
I looked down and saw the bee repeatedly pelting my sleeve with its body.
"Thanks!" I yelled as I instinctively hurled my body through the intersection, barely missing a turning car.
"Be careful!" He yelled back.
"I will!" I screeched amidst my own flailing arms.
I paused on the opposing street corner to catch my breath and get my bearings, sure that the bee had lost interest between my near death experience and the running, but there it was, smashing itself again and again into my new! fall coat!
Jerk.
I hurled myself forward again, running as fast as my riding boots and couch potato legs would carry me, but the bee kept catching up to me. It banged into my elbows and my back like it wanted nothing more than to kill my new! fall coat! I felt like I was in one of those dreams where you're trying so hard to run but your legs feel like heavy bags of oatmeal being dragged through soup. (That's a terrible description, but you know what I mean.)
The best part about this incident is that it occurred right in the middle of morning rush hour traffic.
Obviously, bees scare the crap out of me. And I heart public shame.
By the time I got to work, I was sweaty, out of breath, demoralized, suffering from shin splints, and dragging my uncooperative legs behind me like I'd forgotten my walker at home.
My new! fall coat! apparently inspires bee violence. And now I'm kind of scared to wear it during the day. Hooray.
Thanks, Maggie.
----------------------------
PS. I am still not drinking. I haven't had a drink in 19 days. I hate not drinking, but I hated drinking more. I think that this is one of my favourite things I've ever done for myself.
Scratch that. I have not only not owned a decent fall coat in at least two years, but I have also not owned any fall coat. Why? I was too busy using beer to keep myself numb against the cold.
This year, though, I decided that it was high time I buy myself a fall coat. It hit me when I found myself shuffling down the street in one of the Palinode's cast-off numbers whose sleeves trailed past my knuckles and neck sported impressive ring-around-the-collar. Actually, it really only hit me when I was wearing it and a homeless guy lowered his paper cup when I walked by to wait for the next pedestrian to turn on the shine. Still, it did hit me.
I decided to remedy my accidental homeless look and walked into one of those fashion discount stores where I found this really loud, double-breasted, lime-green coat, because Maggie said I needed something that made me laugh when I put it on. This coat did, so I bought it. If you have a problem with it, take your complaints to Maggie Mason.
It was cool this morning, and, for once, I was happy about the fall weather, because it meant that I could wear my new! fall coat!
I set out on my walk to work feeling like a million dollars, baby. When I crossed the street and that lady looked at me while she waited to turn, I knew that she was coveting my new! fall coat! That guy who stared at me on the corner a couple of blocks later? He was thinking that he could totally get with me in my new! fall coat! I was golden in that coat.
And then, the bee came along.
I was waiting for the lights to change so I could cross a major intersection when this huge bee started flying figure-eights around my knees. I hopped sideways and thought the bee had flown on.
"You've still got the bee," the-guy-who-wanted-to-get-with-me said.
I looked down and saw the bee repeatedly pelting my sleeve with its body.
"Thanks!" I yelled as I instinctively hurled my body through the intersection, barely missing a turning car.
"Be careful!" He yelled back.
"I will!" I screeched amidst my own flailing arms.
I paused on the opposing street corner to catch my breath and get my bearings, sure that the bee had lost interest between my near death experience and the running, but there it was, smashing itself again and again into my new! fall coat!
Jerk.
I hurled myself forward again, running as fast as my riding boots and couch potato legs would carry me, but the bee kept catching up to me. It banged into my elbows and my back like it wanted nothing more than to kill my new! fall coat! I felt like I was in one of those dreams where you're trying so hard to run but your legs feel like heavy bags of oatmeal being dragged through soup. (That's a terrible description, but you know what I mean.)
The best part about this incident is that it occurred right in the middle of morning rush hour traffic.
Obviously, bees scare the crap out of me. And I heart public shame.
By the time I got to work, I was sweaty, out of breath, demoralized, suffering from shin splints, and dragging my uncooperative legs behind me like I'd forgotten my walker at home.
My new! fall coat! apparently inspires bee violence. And now I'm kind of scared to wear it during the day. Hooray.
Thanks, Maggie.
----------------------------
PS. I am still not drinking. I haven't had a drink in 19 days. I hate not drinking, but I hated drinking more. I think that this is one of my favourite things I've ever done for myself.
Reader Comments (30)
Oh, my goodness - I think I'm in love with your coat!
Also: Congrats on the not drinking. It's scary when you hate it.
First, I'm with the bee: that coat is awesome.
Second, I hate not drinking too and lately am filling the void with Haagen Dazs. Obviously, not a sustainable substitute but better than the alternative.
Congratulations on the sobriety.
Hemingway said the same thing about writing-the only thing that hurts worse than writing is not writing.
I, for one, would love to hear the bee's side of this story. ;)
I am proud of you for doing this for yourself
<3 your new coat. i like it better than bees, who apparently have good taste.
ps. rah rah rah!!! pompoms galore!
Your new! fall coat! is fabulous!
First, congratulations on nearly 3 weeks of no alcohol. I'd bet your body is thanking you (or will eventually).
I am allergic to bees. The thought of one chasing me down the street gives me the willies. I'd start thinking that maybe it was a bee hitman and i was targeted. I'm paranoid that way.
Ooh, damn fine looking coat!
Bees are just jealous. Ignore the little jerks.
LOVE the coat. I would hurl myself at you if I were a bee too. And I'm so impressed by you for quitting drinking and sticking with it. <3
I'm cheering you on over here.
Also, maybe your lovely coat (and I do love it) reminds that bee of a coat that killed his parents.
Or maybe he's trying to make love to the coat and bee sex is rough.
Either way, get that bee some counselling!
Yup, that definitely sounds like rough bee sex to me.... shameful, really. A woman should be able to walk down the street in a hot, vibrant coat without bees all hurling unwanted bee lovin' her way. I blame the interwebs (and Monsanto).
Keep on keepin' on, Schmutzie.... there's a whole universe of people out here rooting for you.
I'm laughing so hard I'm crying!
I once had a similar experience with a bee as well - picture a girl sitting by herself on the bus, wearing headphones when all of a sudden she leaps up and wildly pinwheels her arms. Then she quietly sits down. (A bee was crawling around in someone's hair in the seat in front of me when all of a sudden it decided to fly out of her scrunchie and directly into my face).
LMAO that was hilarious!! Thank you for the laugh. Sorry it was the cost of your new coat and fear of bees. I am guessing that the bee wasn't complimenting your jacket in any way???
I love your new! fall! coat! Great advice, Maggie!
Thanks for the laugh re: the bee!
Yay! 19 days sober is awesome. <3
That bee thought your coat was a flower!
I'm with Kate. Bees react to certain light waves (aka colors..), and probably liked the color of your coat.
But bee-season is almost over, so you will be able to rock your coat without the bee action very soon.
I'm thinking the bee thinks your new! fall coat! kicks ass! and wanted to scare you out of it and take it from you for herself.
Congrats on 19 days! 20 is just around the corner!
Any idea of a safe method for removing the bees? Not just safe for us, but for the bees as well. Any organizations that will remove the bees? By the way whoever removes the bees, can have all the honey :)
I am allergic to bees. The thought of one chasing me down the street gives me the willies. I'd start thinking that maybe it was a bee hitman and i was targeted. I'm paranoid that way.
I love your new! fall coat! It reminds me of the new! spring coats! I used to wear once a year when I got dressed up for Passover. Why we got new coats for one evening, I don't know, but I guess it's way cheaper than buying a wedding gown for one evening, isn't it?
LOVE that coat! HATE that bees like it!
And YAY for the 19 days! Although now, by the time I'm finally reading this post, it's well past that, but it gets a big AWESOME anyway.
The thought of one chasing me down the street gives me the willies. I'd start thinking that maybe it was a bee hitman and i was targeted. I'm paranoid that way.
The thought of one chasing me down the street gives me the willies. I'd start thinking that maybe it was a bee hitman and i was targeted. I'm paranoid that way.
Majorca Stags
Thank you for the laugh. Sorry it was the cost of your new coat and fear of bees. I am guessing that the bee wasn't complimenting your jacket in any way???
Weekend In Edinburgh
The thought of one chasing me down the street gives me the willies. I'd start thinking that maybe it was a bee hitman and i was targeted. I'm paranoid that way.
The thought of one chasing me down the street gives me the willies. I'd start thinking that maybe it was a bee hitman and i was targeted. I'm paranoid that way.
Nottingham Stag
Perhaps the bee was just fascinated with your fabulous fall coat.
Bees are actually attracted to yellow as well as black. They like yellow because they look like flowers for them and when you make them mad, they go for black because a predator’s nose and eyes are typically black and the most sensitive part. Try to watch the nature show where the beekeeper had a black colored spot on the chest of his bee suit. The bees went unswervingly for its string.