A Story for Emm

A really good friend of mine chewed me out yesterday when she read my post about my adventure with Amigop. She was really upset that I would even consider littering in the first place. And she has a excellent point. I don't normally litter I promise. I truly do love our planet as much as the next guy and just to prove to you (and to Emm) that I very rarely partake in such shenanigans I have a story. It is a story of my conversion from a litterer to a non-litterer that took place my junior year in high school. (Also, Emm is one of my few blogger friends that I have actually hung out with in person - heck I trusted her to dye my hair - so you should definitely take a look at her blog. There's a link in my sidebar)

I had a caption here but accidentally deleted it and don't remember
what it was...

It is a known fact that Hardee's has THE best fast food milkshakes ever. Period. No exceptions. No discussion. So when I went and purchased one on my very own for the first time, (I had just recently earned my license) I was in a super great mood. That is until I realized I just spent the very last of my cash to buy a milkshake. My SuperGenius mind thought through all the different options of what to do.

I decided that since I officially could do as I pleased when it came to driving, I would simply drive down to the bank and withdraw some cash. I rolled the windows down, put on my stunna shades, and turned up Britney - probably Womanizer.

These are my stunna shades. And this is a terrible picture.
If you are wondering what the shirt is about, BIL's nephew has
juvenile diabetes and it is a shirt to raise awareness of that and
to support him at the same time. 

As I pulled out of the the bank with a now thicker wallet, I realized how cluttered my front seat looked. We could not be having this inside The Sexual. I didn't see any trash cans near me and I was at a stop light in the middle of down town.. solution: it's just a straw wrapper, it won't hurt anything. Out the window it went.

I know that I have a bit of habit of exaggerating things. This is NOT one of those times. Before the straw wrapper hit the ground, a bee flew in my window. As most of you know, I am terrified of spiders. Something that hasn't yet crossed over to my blog life is that this terror also includes any other insect, only not quite to the degree of spiders. So as the black and yellow banded death dealer (double alliteration. I think yes. I win) flew through my window and right in front of my face, I promptly screamed, closed my eyes, and floored it. I still don't have a clue what color the light was when I went, or even if I was in any danger of getting hit. I like to think that it was green and I had the right of way but judging by the sound of horns honking, it probably was not so... That is unless they were trying to warn me of the sharp bottomed being hovering above my passenger seat.

This is what the media wants you to think bees are like...

This is what I am here to tell you they are really like.
Also, I would like Glenn to tell me again that there is no talent..!

After about fifteen seconds of blind driving I decided it was time for me to open my eyes again. (in most situations I would never recommend driving with your eyes closed but this is special circumstances) Opening my eyes was a bad idea. As I opened them I noticed a black and yellow splotch on the steering wheel. Natural instinct? I hit it. I am not sure what possessed me to strike a violent being with a poison spewing syringe for a butt - especially since I'm to scared to even kill a grasshopper - but I did it. And it stung me.

Whoever says that bees can only sting once, have not been stung by a persistent bee. I swear this bee stung me at least seven times. I even have a scar to prove one of the times.

The bee may or may not have actually been the origin of this scar...

Eventually I produced enough force from my flailing in agony to fling the mutant bee out the window. It was at this time that I realized that the bee was probably sent from God. When I littered, God sent the bee to teach me that littering is a no-no, and if I do it again, something else bad will happen.  And it did. But hey, just one slip off the wagon doesn't mean that I have fallen totally off...Right?

Also, Emm, You're welcome.