Yellow and black stripes? My mom would probably tell me that I look like a bumblebee. But guess what–my mom’s not here, so too bad! Speaking of bees, I have had strange experiences being stung. The first time I was ever stung I happened to sit on a bee that was half alive on the edge of a pool. Boo.
I was walking on a trail with my guitar strapped to my back when a bee got caught between the back of my neck and my wall of very thick and very long hair (it was past my waist at the time). It buzzed loudly and frantically right behind my ear as it scrambled to find its way out. I tried to reach around to get to lift up my hair to let it loose, but since my guitar was kind of in the way and it was all tangled in my hair I tried the lazy way and just shook my hair to try to get the bee out. Bad idea. The bee got more agitated, so I panicked in return and shook my hair more which only made the bee buzz more franticly and eventually it stung the back of my neck. My adrenaline was pumping on all cylinders and chaos ensued. I wanted that bee OFF of me but it was tangled in my hair and I was freaking out with no logical thought left! So I did what anyone would do: I broke into a cross between Maniac and Killer Bees from Mexico from Tommy Boy. I looked like a champ, I tell ya.
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