Monday, July 14, 2008

I got strung by a bee...

So yeah, Mondays suck...I think we all can agree on that. Not only is it back to work for most of us but if your job is at all like mine, two days worth of work have piled up on you and it has to be taken care of in one. Today was a little worse than usual, probably precipitated by me coming back off a four day weekend. It had it's ups and downs but the insult added to my injury was when I got stung by a bee. Yes, I got strung by a bee, the last time i got stung by a bee I think I was 10...maybe 11. Who the hell gets stung by bees? It's believed that cell towers that provide the signals for our phones are scaring away most of the honey bees from north America. I'm not making that up, in the last couple years a large percentage, I'll go with majority, because I'm confident, of our continent's honey bees are migrating elsewhere. This is a bad thing...I guess...supposedly this means our plants and flowers are having a hard time being germinated, yadda yadda yadda, less plants...bad. The way I see it, I'm not a huge vegetable fan, flowers are pretty gay, I don't like bees, and I like my phone. Win, win, win, win. But wait! They're not all gone, yet. And one of the lone hold outs stung me. At first I thought it was a mosquito or something small that bit me but when I looked down, there he was, that little stripped fucker not only stinging me, but he was biting me too. Alright, I get it! Apparently my leg was posing a threat to the queen, kill it! I knocked the little shit off and there it was, his ass muscles still attached to the stinger still pumping his bee badness into my leg. My first thought was "ouch, that hurts" then it dawn on me that people have allergic reactions to bee stings and die from this shit. I paused, was I allergic? The last time, when I was 10, I did go to the hospital and get a shot, but I think that was mainly a precaution. I swallowed, took a few deep breaths, I thought about calling my boss and telling him I was going to the hospital and someone else was going to have to finish up for me, but I didn't notice my throat closing up or any problems breathing. It still hurt though, I took a little solace in knowing the bee was somewhere bleeding to death from the gaping ass wound it had just inflicted upon itself while protecting the hive. I went about my work but then I started thinking, maybe you don't die right away. Were these the last moments of my life? I looked up, there were some trees, a bird flew by. I felt like I should try to appreciate it more but I just wanted to finish my work and go home. Then I wondered if my bosses would appreciate my dedication, while poison was racing through my veins on it's way to killing me, I trudged on. I saw myself dead, laying in the walkway of this ridiculous apartment complex, my bosses coming out to find me and yell at me but finding only my cold lifeless body. Or maybe someone who lived there would call and tell them that I was taking a nap on the sidewalk, they should come fire me. Alas, as romantic and ironic as I had envisioned my death, I was breathing fine, no swelling, just a pain in my calf. Not to steal from Dane Cook, but man, getting killed by a bee is a shit way to die. If I ever get killed by a bee sting, still breathing, I hope I'm run over by a bus immediately afterwords. "How did Paul die?" "Well he was killed by a bee...I mean hit by a bus." See what I mean? If someone told you I was killed by a singular bee sting, I would hope you would laugh. If I heard you were killed by one, I would. I don't think it would stop me even if I was told by one of your loved ones. You were killed by a bee, they make honey. A black widow spider is pretty badass, a scorpion? Shitty powers ballads aside, they're pretty gnarly too. I'm a bee, I hang out in flowers, I will die a virgin, I killed you. I'll take the bus anyday. So yeah, I got stung by a bee today, Mondays suck.

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Never party with the Straight Edge...

If playing a sporting event and ending in a tie is like "kissing your sister", then partying with a straight edge person is like "jerking off with your dad". Don't get me wrong, I really have no problem with people who are straight edge, hell, I even used to be straight edge myself. But then I decided I wanted to have fun, and enjoy that whole virginity thing was getting annoying. I joke, I kid, I have friends who are straight edge, they go to parties, have a good time, and feel no need to preach about how important being straight edge is. Underneath, they may be thinking about what a bunch of assholes we are and whatnot, but as long as I don't hear about it, good.
I may be horribly off base and may not have met the right straight edge people but my unfortunate diagnosis it that people are straight edge because of anger. They're pissed off, they hate everyone, and the best way that they can make themselves feel superior and better than all of the people they're mad at, is to be devoid of any of the horrible vices that everyone else has. I'll be honest. It's one of the driving forces which made it seem, at the time, like a good decision for me. The group of guys in my high school who were first "pot heads" and early drinkers were assholes. They acted like everyone who didn't do it was just a momma's boy who was too scared to think outside the protective box their parents had put them in. We were missing out, they were really experiencing life, their minds were open. Bullshit, the first time I thought of anal sex, I thought I had invented it. Stupid teenage me thought that I had figured out an entirely new dimension of sex. Guess what retard, I think they might have been doing that shit in the 60's, I imagine slave masters really "had their way" with their slaves, those British romantic fags were doing it with powdered wigs on (something I didn't think of), roman emperors loved it, and lets face it, the cavemen probably got bored of the vag sometimes too. Those open minded druggies in high school weren't better than anyone, they were just a lot more bored than I was. And guess what, they're all fat bald losers now. So yeah, I hated them, why would I want to be like them? To this day I still refuse to listen to some of the bands they listened to because they thought of liking anything they liked was so offensive to me. So I get it, they're losers and you don't want to be a loser so you don't do drugs. Grrr, you're angry, here's a tissue.
Then there's the whole, "I see people when they're drunk/on drugs, and I don't like they way they are, so why would I want to be like that?" Chances are these drunk/high people are getting the girl you want/put up on a pedestal. Or this same girl who you've put up for sainthood in your own mind becomes a slut when she drinks. So this makes you angry and straight edge...ness? makes you better than them, and that makes you feel good. Maybe you should build a club house too!
Don't get me wrong, I've seen people just ruin a party by getting too drunk. I hate it when people tell me the virtues of smoking weed. Oh really? The album sounds completely different when you're high? I hate cleaning up after these people, I hate hearing them list how much they drank and smoke because I'm supposed to be impressed by how fucked up they got, and I hate hearing about how hung over they are/were. Shut up, no one out of high school should be impressed by any of that.
Back to my point. Even the best, least preachy straight edge...ers? can ruin the feng shui of a party. At or during a good party, everyone tends to get drunk at or about the same pace. We all know how shitty it feels to show up late and sober to a party where everyone else is properly toasted. It tends to be a little awkward at first, introductions are made, one, two cocktails are had and before you know it, your best friend and your boss are hooting it up, and low and behold! Your girlfriend and your ex are chatting! Lets hope they're only saying good things, wink wink nudge nudge. Towards the end the line gets blurry, you have your people who know they have to drive home eventually, and then the people who got plastered and are sleeping over, surprise! The straight edge guy is like the speed bump to your flow, the iceberg to your titanic. You're feeling good, buzzed, you're got a bra on your head as a hat, a thong over your jeans, and as you're chasing that 20 something girl through the party with the novelty sex toy someone brought proclaiming that you're "king of the penis", bam. You run into the straight edge guy/girl (this is where you start jerking off with your dad). You stop dead in your tracks, for a moment maybe you feel like you should explain yourself to your straight edge friend, goddamn there's part of you that wishes you were still chasing that girl, but your buddy doesn't seem to be having as much fun as everyone else and part of you feels like you want him to be having as much fun of you. There's an awkward silence, maybe you should explain the bra, thong, and big black Ask if he's having fun? No. At this point the straight edge, while trying to be a good friend and protect you from yourself, will offer some sort of advice, or maybe tell you you should "calm down" or "take it down a notch" thus providing you with a brickwall like buzzkill. The girl is long gone, your bra hat is no longer zany or fun, and the dildo in your hand just got really really gay. Your dad might as well have just told you he's "getting close".
Is there any solution? You know what? I have no idea, I haven't thought of one...actually, I have. If you're straight edge, just have a damn beer and relax already.

p.s. If you're family has a history of addiction to drugs and alcohol an you have to be straight edge, that sucks. If you're offended or upset by this, I hope you get cancer or AIDS. If you have cancer or AIDS and are offended by what I just wrote, seriously? You want to spend what little slice of life you have left mad at me? C'mon, go smell some flowers baldy.