Happy Blog-a-versary to me

So recently I have done nothing but be obnoxious and make an ass out of myself. This of course reminded me of back when I first moved here to California, when being obnoxious and making an ass out of myself was a weekly occurrence (rather then the occasional slip up with deep head shaking come Monday morning). Of course this also reminded me of my old 'More Fun Than Scrabble' blog on Diaryland where I actually had the nerve to post the details of my obnoxiousness and ass-out-of-myself-ness on a fairly regular basis. While that blog is still out there in cyberland, I did have the foresight to privatize most of the entries. Those of you who had the fortunate\unfortunate pleasure\un-pleasure of reading those posts, I hope you enjoyed them and made copies to use against me for when I decide to run for Congress. The rest of you…well, sorry. My 27-year old self did not have a proper functioning 'Edit' button and it showed. I should know, I've been spending the last few days going over those old privatized posts wondering, basically, what the hell was I thinking? And, "Man, I was an ass, but I sure did have fun."

I'm bringing all this up because if you count my old blog, I've been writing to you all in some function for the last 7 years. Actually, that wasn't why I was bringing all this up; I just wanted to say that to sound impressive. Are you impressed? How about if I give you a dollar? No, the real reason why I'm bringing this up is that I wanted to use a cheat (or a lifeline, or a street shout out, or whatever) and actually do a re-print of one of the old entries as kind of a blog anniversary present to myself. Of course trying to find an old entry from Diaryland suitable for the new evolution-ized version of this blog (Read: Parent Friendly) (Or, my parents anyhow) was not an easy task. I did find one (one!) that I thought was safe enough as well as amusing enough to warrant a re-print.

This post is from August 2001. (7 years!) I was living in the Blue Boxes at the time. Tom was a friend of mine that eventually became a roommate which basically means that we don't talk anymore. (Though Kevin and I were invited and went to his wedding a few years back) Hope you like it…and for some of you, like it again.

I've got to tell you how yesterday I was transformed to DANGER GIRL.

You know, I suppose I really shouldn't say DANGER girl. That just implies a whole bunch of things that are, well, dangerous, and I suppose that really isn't the case at all. Let me change that to the MOMENT OF PERIL girl. I don't think peril is as forthcoming as danger is and well, hmmm, maybe I'll just get on with the story...

So I got home from work yesterday and went to get my mail like I always do when I first get home from work. I've got a small track of land they call grass (though very rarely the green variety) that I walk over to get to the mailboxes. Three steps into the grass to the mailbox, this horde of wasps fly out of the grass and start surrounding me like, well, like wasps do. I scream and run like a girl to the mailbox like a true hero and return back the long way around completely avoiding the grassy knoll. I get back inside my house and call Tom.

TOM: Hello?

MOE: Why would wasps live in my grass?

TOM: Excuse me?

MOE: Why would wasps live in my grass. There's a horde of wasps hanging out in my grass. I don't understand.

TOM: Wasps? In your grass?

MOE: Yes. Big fuckers. With teeth. In. My. Grass. What's in that grass anyhow? It's not like it's shady. It's not like there's any flowers or anything there. It's grass. It's dry. I don't understand the appeal to the wasps. It's like us deciding to hang out in Death Valley all day. Just because.

TOM: Well, it's August. It's Bee Season. I've got them too...in my tiki head. I sprayed them though.

MOE: I still don't understand the grass...

TOM: Want to come over?

MOE: Sure. As long as the wasps aren't invited.

So I go over to Tom's house to hang out. When I get there, he's sweeping out the back patio. Tom has this 4-foot tall carved wooden tiki head on his back patio. It's kind of cool actually. You can put candles in the tiki's mouth and he lights up and looks really scary. Tom points out that that's where the bees were this afternoon. Tom returns to sweeping and I notice that there's definitely some more bee activity going on by the tiki head.

MOE: Hey Tom. Uh, I don't think you've eliminated the bee situation.

TOM: Well, I got this spray. (pointing to can of Bee & Wasp spray)

MOE: Uh, well, there seems to be a lot of bees going in there.

TOM: Huh. Well let me spray again. (He stands and points the spray into tiki mouth from 20 ft. away) There, that should do it.

MOE: I think you just pissed them off. There's still a lot of bees. I think there might be a nest.

TOM: In the tiki head? No...there can't be a nest in the tiki head.

MOE: I think there's a nest Tom, there's an awful lot of bees flying in there and they sure as hell aren't flying out.

TOM: You really think there's a nest? Well, let me try the flame thrower approach.

At this point Tom takes the Bee & Wasp spray and sprays using a flame from a lighter - creating one hell of a flame which in turn burns the tiki head. This doesn't seem to affect the bees. Running out of Bee and Wasp spray, Tom turns to the Ant and Roach spray and tries the same thing.

MOE: Tom, that's Ant and Roach spray. Those are bees.

TOM: It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it's on fire.

Tom burns the tiki head some more. There is now smoke coming out of both the top of the tiki head and the tiki head's nostrils. The tiki head is beginning to look really scary. As well, something seems to be burning in the inside, and it's starting to smell really bad.

Tom eventually runs out of the Ant and Roach spray, but the bees are still there.

TOM: I'm going to get all Lysol on their ass.

MOE: Lysol? We don't need to disinfect them Tom. They're bees.

TOM: It doesn't matter what it is...

MOE: I know, I know, as long as it's on fire.

So out comes the Lysol flame thrower. Something is DEFINITELY burning inside of the tiki head. There's smoke everywhere. And the smell made me run indoors from the gagging reflex.

MOE: Tom, there's *gag* an awful lot of smoke..*GAG!* I think..*gag!* you set the nest on fire *cough! gag! gagg!*

TOM: Hmmm...I think you're right. I'll get the hose.

Now Tom takes the hose and shoots water down the top of the tiki head. Bees are everywhere and those bees are pissed off. I run inside and shut the patio door and gag and laugh at Tom trying to get back in. But then the nest falls out of the mouth of the tiki head. Not that big of a nest, about 6 inches round, but there are bee larva EVERYWHERE.

TOM: Let me back in!

MOE: No, the bees have no home. They'll want to live here.

TOM: LET ME BACK IN!

MOE: Fine. But they're staying in your room.

And that was the BEE peril. That we handled. I suppose I can't really say I handled it as I just stood around offering advice and humor while someone else tackled the peril, but you know, it was bees. Bees are scary.