"A Bee Story": Coming soon to TLC
The Thursday night before I moved back, Chris and I decided to go swing dancing one last time. It was a blast and afterward we headed out to Hollywood to have a late night snack at Fred62s, an old college haunt of Chris' that he had been raving about, but we never seemed to get around to. We enjoyed the famed Mac Daddy and Cheese balls, which caused our waitress to spawn the quote, "Did y'alls balls come and go?" All in all, a good night.
About 1AM, we headed back to Pasadena. The car windows were not down at any point during the evening's excursions, but right as we pull up in front of my apartment, I ran my hand through my hair and pulled out a live bee. At first, I didn't think much of it. It was late, it was dark, and, more importantly, where would a bee have come from? Aparantly, it had hitched a ride in my hair from, I can only assume, Hollywood. As I ran my hand through my hair, I did notice that I had pulled something out, but I thought it was a twig. Only after it started moving and buzzing did I realize that it was fuzzy. "BEEEEE!" I screeched, my first instinct was to throw said bee toward Chris, the man operating the car. Not the smartest idea. He immediately jumped about three feet off his seat (which I hadn't thought was even possible) and put his hands (formerly safely placed on the steering wheel) in front of his face to protect himself from the bee. Thankfully, we were in front of my place and about to park anyway. He quickly parked the car and we both jumped out to shake off our clothes.
"What was that?" he asked, looking at me as though I had just thrown a live grenade into his lap.
"There was a bee in my hair," I tried to explain.
"And your first instinct was to throw it at me? Thanks a lot."
We searched the car, but to no avail. I began to doubt my sanity. "I swear, there was a bee. I felt it."
"Uh huh, sure."
I decided to let it go, and we went inside to get ready for bed. Chris sat down on my bed and turned on the TV. When he stood up a moment later, he left a half-alive and very bewildered looking bee in his wake, walking in circles on my comforter.
"Bee! See? It's the bee! I told you!" I felt somewhat vindicated. I must say, the poor thing made it through a lot (my hair, Chris' pants) to perish, unceremoniously, in a tissue. Fate certainly is a cruel mistress.
Sure, it doesn't involved frying pans, but it does involve moving vehicles, so I think this story definitely qualifies as an official "bee story!"
About 1AM, we headed back to Pasadena. The car windows were not down at any point during the evening's excursions, but right as we pull up in front of my apartment, I ran my hand through my hair and pulled out a live bee. At first, I didn't think much of it. It was late, it was dark, and, more importantly, where would a bee have come from? Aparantly, it had hitched a ride in my hair from, I can only assume, Hollywood. As I ran my hand through my hair, I did notice that I had pulled something out, but I thought it was a twig. Only after it started moving and buzzing did I realize that it was fuzzy. "BEEEEE!" I screeched, my first instinct was to throw said bee toward Chris, the man operating the car. Not the smartest idea. He immediately jumped about three feet off his seat (which I hadn't thought was even possible) and put his hands (formerly safely placed on the steering wheel) in front of his face to protect himself from the bee. Thankfully, we were in front of my place and about to park anyway. He quickly parked the car and we both jumped out to shake off our clothes.
"What was that?" he asked, looking at me as though I had just thrown a live grenade into his lap.
"There was a bee in my hair," I tried to explain.
"And your first instinct was to throw it at me? Thanks a lot."
We searched the car, but to no avail. I began to doubt my sanity. "I swear, there was a bee. I felt it."
"Uh huh, sure."
I decided to let it go, and we went inside to get ready for bed. Chris sat down on my bed and turned on the TV. When he stood up a moment later, he left a half-alive and very bewildered looking bee in his wake, walking in circles on my comforter.
"Bee! See? It's the bee! I told you!" I felt somewhat vindicated. I must say, the poor thing made it through a lot (my hair, Chris' pants) to perish, unceremoniously, in a tissue. Fate certainly is a cruel mistress.
Sure, it doesn't involved frying pans, but it does involve moving vehicles, so I think this story definitely qualifies as an official "bee story!"
posted by Jess @ 11:44 PM
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