Thursday, August 26, 2010


What's it called when you just have to write stuff out to get it out of your system? As like therapy? You know for traumatic events? Is there an official name for that?

If there is, then that's what this post is going to be. Because I am traumatized, friends.


I am still in this weird city of Austin (thank goodness I'm leaving tomorrow I can't handle anymore weirdness!) and well, let me tell you what happened.

I went to get dinner at this place that has a bunch of food carts in an dirt parking lot. A taco-like place, BBQ, Cupcakes, and some other stuff. (Including this Vietnam Vet musician dude that drives a truck with a skeleton in the passenger seat and "RIP Ministries" written on the door. This is a weird city.) So I get my taco-y thing --tortilla, chicken, coleslaw concoction-- and a fancy root beer in a bottle. I wolf down my meal and decide to get a cupcake to gorge on in the privacy of my hotel room.

So I walk to the end of the strip sipping on my root beer. I order my cupcake and as I'm walking away I start thinking, "I ate so fast I bet I had a bunch of crap stuck in my teeth - ew! Like Totally EMBARRASSING!" So while I walk back to my car I pick my teeth a little bit and suck on them, you know, to get it all squeaky clean.

Then I take a drink of my root beer. And there's something crunchy.

First thought: "Woah! How did I backwash something this big? I'm not a backwasher."

Second thought: "I bet I dripped some of the coleslaw from my taco into my bottle."

Third thought: "Dripping coleslaw into a bottle would be hard. AHHH! Must have been stuck in my teeth."

Fourth thought: "That's a HUGE thing to have stuck in my teeth! The cupcake man must have been laughing his face off at the enormous cabbage leaf stuck in my teeth."

At this point, I decided I needed to examine how embarrassing the Food In Teeth scenario was and I pull out the crunchy thing I'd been chewing while I had all of the above thoughts. And when I pulled it out and looked what did I see?


I had been chewing on a BEE! I'm totally skeeved out about it. I'm not alergic, and it definitely wasn't alive when it went in. But still! GROOOOOSSSSS.

I bet it flew into my bottle of root beer (attracted by it's sugar cane deliciousness) and drowned a quick death. And then I gulped it in and started noshing away. Blaaaaaa! I want to scrub my mouth with turpentine and a wire brush.

I was so freaked out and distracted on the drive to the hotel I ended up totally lost and 20 miles out of my way.

I hope my insurance covers Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I definitely need it. BLLLLLAHHHHH!


erinmalia said...

oh that's bad. maybe in your ptsd treatment, they'll treat you with snakes. that would make you think less of a bee, right?

Micah E. said...

I read somewhere that a bee's butt muscles can still cause a sting even after the bee is dead.

Not true?