Something I Wrote About Bees

This week's show - next week's show - whatever - is kind of a rerun.  I'll do it live, but I once did a show about bees, four years or so ago.  More on why I am re-doing a show tomorrow.  But I never really re-run things I've written on this blog because, well, one, they're not that memorable, these things I write, & two, there's hardly ever a reason to repost them.  But here's something I wrote about bees in May of 2016

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In a couple of the fake interviews for this week's shows - these are parts I might have edited out, because I tend to edit out my own contributions, whittling them down to more or less pertinent questions for my funny friends/guests* - I mentioned that I was allergic to bees.  But I have a confession to make: I don't know if I am.  I have never been stung by a bee.

Why would I say, & actually believe, that I am allergic to bees?  Because once my mother told me I was.  That was it!  I'm sure she was telling me that I had a dangerous allergy because she wanted me to be safe, & not to fuck around with bees, creatures that might sting me if I stupidly put my hand into their hive or something.  My mother is pretty much afraid of everything, & that fear was quite easily passed down into all her children.

& you know what, it worked!  It worked so well that I have never been stung by a bee.  I remember watching in awe as a middle-school friend not only got stung by a bee (I was so freaked out I almost cried) but calmly took the stinger out of his skin.  He looked briefly at it as if it were as threatening as a splinter & tossed it away.

As threatening as a splinter!  My mother once told me I absolutely had to get splinters out of my skin as soon as possible because otherwise they'd continue traveling downward, get into the blood vessels, & make their way to your heart, where one tiny splinter could stab & stab & stab you until you fucking died.

If she felt that way about a splinter, imagine what horrors a bee sting could inflict!  Honestly, I don't even know if my mother knew about allergic reactions or going into anaphylactic shock or any of that shit.  She just erred on the side of being terrified of the entire world & made sure to burden us with her suspect wisdom at every opportunity.

The weird thing is how long it took me - well into adulthood - to figure out how bogus it was.  Take, for example, fire ants.  Fire ants would bite you until you died, said my mother, & that's why you should be careful walking around them.  Only, my little brother once stood in a fire ant hill, got bitten all over his legs, was in a lot of pain, was covered in calamine lotion for a night, & didn't die.

It's a testimony to how much a child relies upon the parent that I didn't call my mother out after my brother lived.  Because when I saw those ants crawling all over him, I thought he was going to die.

Anyway, bees.  I'm still afraid of bees, & actually most insects that are larger than a dime.  & who knows?  Maybe I should carry an EpiPen with me.  For all the hell I know, out of the thousands, if not millions of things my mother told me that turned out to be hysterically wrong, she might be right about this.**

* I am only replaying one of the old interviews from the original show, so this might not come up at all.
** I've still never been stung by a bee.