Ow, Part II

As evidenced by my previous post, the wasp sting did not kill me.

I still have a giant pink splotch on my back, though, where the little fucker got me and it itches like a motherfucker. Is this normal? I think not.

When I went to work the day after I was stung and told a coworker about it, I was reminded of a situation that arose the day before (and day of the sting) where I was actually tormenting wasps, which I conveniently forgot.

I work on the 13th floor of an office building in a suburb of Minneapolis (spooky, eh? 13th) and right outside the window by my coworkers office there were a bunch of big, healthy wasps hanging around. I'm not terribly squeamish, I'm usually the one called on to do the bug killing, and I can totally handle any insect on it's own, but swarms freak me out. And not just because they're more menacing in large numbers, but the site of the swarm almost grosses me out. I can't explain it exactly.

So, when I saw this swarm of wasps outside the window, I started pounding on the window to make them go away, which of course they did not. While my pounding posed to serious or immediate threat to them, I bet it was a little annoying. After all, they were just hanging out, in their natural environment, doing their wasp thing, not bothering anyone. What right did I have to disturb them?

I'm starting to think one followed me that evening to drive the point home.

So, to all you bees, wasps, hornets, and various stinging insects out there, you win. I'm calling off the jihad. Go in peace. Do your wasp thing. Live your wasp lives. I will leave you be. (leave you be, get it? be(e)!).

It's almost winter in Minnesota anyway. You guys are going to be dead as fuck in no time. So, ha!