(no subject)
My job fills me with an indescribable violent rage every day I'm here, so one would think that I'd be kinda grateful for the opportunity to kill something. Actually, I was terrified, then I was sad. I heard the buzzing first and thought it was just a fly, before I turned around and came face to face with a yellowjacket the size of a pregnant grape. I sprang into action - I involuntarily jumped back five feet and shrieked like a seven year old girl.
(Although wikipedia is now telling me that yellowjackets aren't common in the PacNW. Also, a yellowjacket is a wasp. I thought it was just a bee. Shows what I know.)
Now, ordinarily when a bee is in the house and I can't easily shoo it, I give it a very wide berth and wait for the sun to do its job. No such luck, for this bee flew up into the light fixture in the kitchen and wouldn't come out. Now, Mark* is allergic to bee stings, so I had no choice but to kill it. So I went into the garage to find RAID. Instead I found the imaginatively named HORNET OFF!, and I began to creep up on the insect. Slowly.
I'm typically not that afraid of bees, but for some reason I kept having visions of being attacked by a stinger the size of a Louisville Slugger. So I worked methodically; I turned the light off. It didn't move. I inched closer to it. Then I backed away. I then repeated this manuever approximately 2,678,987,234 times. Then I positioned myself behind a wall, which was bad for aiming but good for running the fuck away quickly. I pointed half my body, with my good arm, toward the bee, and half toward the door. They were perpindicular to eachother so it was really quite a feat, and I sprayed, and the bee LEAPT FROM ITS PERCH AND fell lifeless to the floor.
Oddly enough, it was around this time that Mark woke up. Yeah, I saved your life, dude, what do you have to say to that. "BWUAGH! BWUAGH! GHHRRENNN *phbbbbt*." Mark's quite a charmer, he's had several girlfriends in his life. He masturbates constantly, too. He's masturbating now.
I've worked 52 hours this week, and am a little punchy.
(Although wikipedia is now telling me that yellowjackets aren't common in the PacNW. Also, a yellowjacket is a wasp. I thought it was just a bee. Shows what I know.)
Now, ordinarily when a bee is in the house and I can't easily shoo it, I give it a very wide berth and wait for the sun to do its job. No such luck, for this bee flew up into the light fixture in the kitchen and wouldn't come out. Now, Mark* is allergic to bee stings, so I had no choice but to kill it. So I went into the garage to find RAID. Instead I found the imaginatively named HORNET OFF!, and I began to creep up on the insect. Slowly.
I'm typically not that afraid of bees, but for some reason I kept having visions of being attacked by a stinger the size of a Louisville Slugger. So I worked methodically; I turned the light off. It didn't move. I inched closer to it. Then I backed away. I then repeated this manuever approximately 2,678,987,234 times. Then I positioned myself behind a wall, which was bad for aiming but good for running the fuck away quickly. I pointed half my body, with my good arm, toward the bee, and half toward the door. They were perpindicular to eachother so it was really quite a feat, and I sprayed, and the bee LEAPT FROM ITS PERCH AND fell lifeless to the floor.
Oddly enough, it was around this time that Mark woke up. Yeah, I saved your life, dude, what do you have to say to that. "BWUAGH! BWUAGH! GHHRRENNN *phbbbbt*." Mark's quite a charmer, he's had several girlfriends in his life. He masturbates constantly, too. He's masturbating now.
I've worked 52 hours this week, and am a little punchy.