Ahhh, Labor Day! Steaks on the grill, potato salad, family, illegal fire-works…and boxed wine. That is my ideal Labor Day. So I drank maybe half a box of Corbett Canyon Chardonnay, I’m not fancy. I can’t tell you how many glasses that is, sheesh, it’s from a box! Then my dad cracks open a bottle of some fancy schmancy vintage Robert Mondavi Cabernet…at this point, I didn’t know if I was drinking bull piss.
Apparently there was a bee-hive under the stairs of our deck. My pug Louie was the first to get stung. My poor little pug. Now I’m pissed. I was wearing a pink moo-moo from Kohl’s (clearance end of summer rack) so naturally I looked like a big pink flower. I grabbed a fly swatter and sought vengeance upon the little bastards that stung my defenseless little Louie. Drunk as a skunk I began to swing aimlessly at the swarm of yellow-jackets , hitting several of them as they whizzed pass my head. My boyfriend stood by and I yelled “FILM THIS” for I knew this would be viral!!! Imagine the drunk lady in the pink moo-moo swatting aimlessly at bees. Muahaha. I could have been an internet sensation. But since my BF hacked his I-phone, he couldn’t quite get the video function app running quickly enough, and by that time, I had incited a full blown riot. Apparently, when you disturb the nest, you release a toxin, and the bees will do anything to protect the nest. After one sting to the temple, one to the elbow, another to the back of my head, and one to my back, Tom came in and rescued me. I was defeated. Even my beagle was disgraced at the site of me. My forehead swelled up like a Geico Caveman. The bees are still there.