How I Got a STI For My Birthday

STI: Stingually Transmitted Infection.

So I created a purely sensationalized title.  Big whoop.

Not the actual culprit, necessarily, but certainly a hivemate.

Friday morning.  Birthday morning.  The big 29 (the “real one” as my shrink said).  I’m all stoked to get some free birthday treats from Caribou and Panera (Iced Pomegranate Vanilla Oolong Latte and Pumpkin Muffin, respectively) when I sat down in the driver’s seat of my truck and felt something pokey.  I reached under my behind to clear away what I thought would be a little rock or something when the something grabbed onto my finger.  I freaked out, shook my hand, and watched a yellowjacket fling into the little pocket in my door (thankfully open).

Sat there for a minute and freaked out silently.  The last time I was stung was probably 25 years ago, and I knew I wasn’t allergic then, but people suddenly develop allergies all the time.  After a few minutes I determined I probably wasn’t going to have trouble breathing any time soon, and that I certainly wasn’t interested in driving or being around people just yet.  The pokey was quickly turning stingy, and I had some googling to do.  I waddled very slowly back into my house

After sitting on a block of ice for two episodes of Dance Academy (Thanks a ton, Maven) I decided I was ready to venture out into the world.  I went outside, realized I forgot… something… and went back in.  Bent over and heard buzzing in my ear and watched as yet another yellowjacket fell out of my hair and onto the floor.  As it wandered around (and thankfully didn’t fly), I grabbed a can of hotshot and stopped it in its tracks.  And then took a picture of it, because that’s what people do.  I was clearly under attack and evidence would probably come in handy.

Finally made it out into the world.  Got my free stuff.  Went out to dinner later.  Procured a SodaStream for my birthday present.  Played with said SodaStream.  Admired that the bee sting which had originally been a 2″ pink blob had turned into a 1″ pink blob over the course of the day.  Went to bed feeling like it was the end of my worries.

Until I woke up the next morning.  The 1″ pink blob and turned giant and red and angry.  And itchy.  So very itchy.  And then it didn’t go away.  And it didn’t go away.  And I refused to see a doctor because why on earth would I want to show a doctor my ass unless I absolutely had to?  Well, by today I decided I had to.  And it was as stupid as I imagined it being.

What I wanted was for the Urgent Care doctor to say, “Oh, bee stings on the bum are far more common than people think.”  What I got was, “Haha!  What an unusual location for a bee sting!”  “Are you sure it was a bee sting?” “Are you sure it was only one bee sting?”  To which I wanted to reply “No REALLY? You think maybe that’s why I waited three days to see a doctor??” “Yeah, I held the asshole in my hand for a second.  Definitely bee.”  “Yes, there was only one bee, and the one bee was pinned under my giant ass and not really able to move until I picked him up.”  But what I really said was “*lame fake laugh* I know, right?” “Yes.” “Yes.”

Then he explained that there are two common reactions to bee stings: The allergic reaction everyone fears and infection.  And I was stuck with the infection.  And a prescription for super antibiotics.  And another prescription to prevent the damage that antibiotics so frequently cause.  Because that’s actually less fun than a bee sting to the ass.  Just sayin’.

Eventually I’ll share all sorts of other not as sucky stuff that I did on my summer vacations–stuff that’s kept me a little busier than I expected–but I feel assured that this little tale will keep you satisfied until then.


How we do

Friday was the first time I hit the Minnesota State Fair.  We had to be there by 10:30 to get seats to Tonic Sol-Fa. They’re a great a cappella group that hails from MN, and seats always fill up fast.  We managed to find seats in the second row, right on the end, which is important with a one year old in tow.  She was able to run, dance, sit without being in the way of too many people.  Mostly just my sister, who had to get up to chase her and dance with her.  Rocketdog actually lost her seat for awhile to a woman who pushed her bags into me and sat down.  It wasn’t until Rocketpuppy tried to come over to me that the woman realized she had taken someone’s seat.  And yet, she didn’t move until the show was over.  Thanks lady.

The rest of Friday was filled with good (great!) food, lots of walking, many jokes, and bad fashion bingo.  We made up cards to cross off whenever we saw such gems as: Tie Dye (a state fair must, apparently), animal print, pimp hats, and too short short shorts.  The too short short shorts prompted BILOSORD to mention that there are a lot of hungry butt cracks at the fair.  I will also never, ever live down saying “I just need camel toe to win!”

Saturday was the only day that brought doom to my birthday weekend.  It’s also the day I almost got The Hippy and myself killed.  I hadn’t slept much the night before, or even the night before that.  I was tired–TIRED–and had spent the entire day on the verge of tears.  Because that’s how I roll.  We had a long drive up to my parents’ cabin–someplace I’d only been once in the last ten years.  Frankly, I wasn’t 100% sure how to get there, but I trusted that my mother had given me good directions.  Which was, incidentally, stupid.  There was apparently a point that I needed to turn, but no one told me that.  The Hippy said he should have figured it out, because we were going west, not north, at that point, but it didn’t occur to him.  I finally said, “I feel like we should have gotten somewhere by now,” and he said, “Me too” and thumbed the map a bit.  And I started crying.  I didn’t know where to turn around, and I was feeling frustrated.  The Hippy, while able to think very quickly under pressure, doesn’t care to have resistance in making things happen.  And I was resisting.  So his voice was rising a little.  It was the classic ‘Yelling isn’t helping”  “I’m not yelling.  You’d know if I were yelling” situation.  So I kept crying.

We finally turned around, we knew where we needed to go, but at that point the crying was completely involuntary.  Also involuntary was my breathing, which kept getting shallower and shallower until I was hyperventilating.  When I couldn’t stop, I started getting really dizzy and thought I was going to black out.  At that point, The Hippy grabbed the wheel and told me to pull over, but I pulled over sooner and much more abruptly than he would have liked.  Much further off the side of the road, and we probably would have rolled.  He kept telling me to get out of the car so he could drive, but I was afraid to move.  The last thing I wanted after almost killing us was to pass out on the side of the highway.  I eventually made it to the passenger side of the truck, and by the time we met up with my parents my breathing was back to normal, but I was spent.  It took a long time to act like a human being, but I was able to pass it off as being overtired (which wasn’t a complete lie).

Sunday was the corn feed.  We ate corn.  It was yummy.  Enough said.

Monday was another day at the fair.  Because I love the fair.  For no good reason.  But I love it.  Before we went to the fair, The Hippy needed to do some homework.  We’d gone out to buy my present on Saturday before going up north (A Kitchen Aid mixer–SQUEE!), and he came groggily into the living room saying “Happy birthday….”  I thought maybe he was going to do a little cleaning up before starting his homework, because he grabbed a piece of brown paper that a framed print had been wrapped in and wandered into the kitchen.  Then he came back into the living room carrying my giant mixer box covered with the brown paper.  “Happy birthday; I got you a present.”  He set it on my lap, and I couldn’t stop laughing.  “Open it!  Open it!” he kept saying.  It was all very cute and sweet, and I actually started tearing up a little.

Since the hyperventilation incident didn’t happen on my birthday, I consider this the first birthday in possibly forever that didn’t suck.  It was actually really awesome.  The only thing I’m disappointed about was missing out on Australian Battered Potatoes at the fair.  But at least I got a crepe this year.  And falafel.  Yum.  I can guarantee I will be making those potatoes.  Yum.  Or num num for my tum tum, as the Hippy likes to say.

Weekend Update

Since this is my day off, this is my weekend… Here’s your update:

~Annoying talkative neighbor is moving today.  So sad.  Now I won’t be scared to go out into my own yard!  I don’t like being talked to by people who aren’t my friends.  I don’t do the small talk thing.  I don’t know how I’ve ever actually made friends…

~I’m going to learn sign language.  I’ve wanted to learn ASL since I was a wee beastie, and now I’m finally making it happen.  This actually somewhat goes along with the first bullet.  I’ve always wished I could just sign “Sorry, I’m deaf” when I don’t want to talk to someone.  However, it runs the risk of actually hitting someone who knows sign who then wants to carry on a conversation in sign….  Highly unlikely, but you never know.  Also, I run into so many deaf people at work, that it would be amazing to actually be able to communicate with them effectively.

~My birthday is a week from today, and the closer it gets, the more I dread it.  Not because I’m getting one year older… Screw that.  For starters, I’m not that old.  Secondly, that’s not something anyone can help, so why bother fretting?  No, I’m dreading it because every year something sucktastic happens, no matter how much I try to plan what happens (or if I don’t plan it at all).  Therefore, I have to assume that will happen this year as well.  I’m planning on going to the Minnesota State Fair with The Hippy and perhaps a few friends.  This means it will possibly rain.  Or the Hippy will be sick (again).  Or my friends will decide they hate me.

~The neighbors on the other side are also moving.  I could care less.  They’re annoying, but it won’t be terribly different… Her sister is moving in instead.  Frankly, they don’t bother me as much as the talker.  While they’re noisy, lazy, jobless…. *ahem* They leave me alone.  And leaving me alone is important sometimes.

That is pretty much it.  Yawn.

Weekend Highlights

Spent a long weekend (okay, five days, but in my head it’s still a weekend) at The Hippy’s family’s cabin.  It was The Hippy’s birthday Tuesday, so we Hippy-ed it up.  The best of:

  • Shooting stars while I could still look at the sky (also known as: “Oh!  Falling bits of space debris hitting our atmosphere and burning up!  Make a wish, honey!”)
  • The Hippy getting a good amount of playtime in with his nephew.  Exhibit A:
The boys watching Clifford

The boys watching Clifford

  • Geocaching–finding two of four caches we set out to find.  There were a few others we wanted to find but weather, batteries, and an inability to find the right trail kept us from doing so.  We’re convinced the ones we couldn’t find had been removed, damaged, or muggled.
  • Four-wheeling, which is eternally awesome.  Flying that a million miles an hour (okay, 25-30) going over bumps and getting great air.  Was going to learn how to drive it, but I ended up getting injured and lost my four-wheeling nerve.  I still rode it, mind you, because it’s freaking FUN, but I didn’t want to do anything more to risk killing myself.
  • So, that’s the second time I’ve alluded to injuring myself…  While going over a set of bumps that were way too close together for the speed we were going (oops) my chin became very close friends with The Hippy’s shoulder blade.  For a split second I was certain I’d just dislocated my jaw–I felt it push backward when I hit.  Then I realized all the pain was in my neck and my head.  The Hippy didn’t realize how much I’d been hurt (also used to ATV-ing with his brainless friend), so he kept going, which amplified the pain in my neck and skull.  I finally got him to pull over so I could rest a little.  Thankfully we were almost at the end of the train and would very quickly be on pavement, but the remaining bumps were absolutely killer, even though he was crawling at a snail’s pace.
  • Playing cribbage while under the influence of a rather strong painkiller.  Thankfully, The Hippy’s dad was feeling equally as foggy, so I didn’t feel so stupid when I couldn’t remember how to count.  Or use my fingers.  I did feel kind of embarrassed when I would start giggling and not be able to stop, though.  And I still managed to win the second game.
  • No amount of painkillers–not even the strong ones–would touch the pain in my neck, so I stopped taking them.  For the most part, I’m able to move my neck without much pain now.  Only when I put my head back does it hurt.  Hence not being able to look at the stars.
  • Seeing what we think is the International Space Station (or maybe the latest shuttle) fly overhead on The Hippy’s birthday.  I was able to see it before it went too far behind me.  The times check out, and it definitely wasn’t an airplane or your average satellite.

Finally…  This has nothing to do with my long weekend other than I found this video when I came home…  I remember hearing this song on KDWB when I was a kid; I even called in once to request it.  Because I botched the call so badly (mixed up the name of the song for the artist and had to be corrected by the person who took my call), this song has haunted me long past even remembering how the song went.  Until now, thanks to CrowBiz, even though she is staunchly against any English version.  Enjoy.

Long time coming…

I’ve been meaning to write about this since my birthday weekend (we’re pushing three weeks now), but better late than never, right?

I told anyone who asked that I didn’t want any presents.  I meant it.  But I got presents anyway, which is fine because I loved them all.  I got many sundry antique bakeware from my parents and an awesome can of nacho cheese.  If I told you the story behind the nacho cheese–or even why it was my favorite present–you’d all think I was crazy and I would lose any credibility I might have.

But I do have to tell about a really awesome present I got from someone who hadn’t heard about my “no presents” clause (Mostly I didn’t think about it, but I know telling her wouldn’t have stopped her anyway, because she’s pretty much awesome).  I met my good friend Sarah through Etsy at one of our old TeamMN meetings.  She has three shops on Etsy: CuriousSundries, MoonlightTreasures, and CreativeSundries (the original shop).

Due to my highly limited photo editing skills, this photo looks as if my hand may be magic, or at least not real.  I assure you it is.  I just suck at editing photos.

You can find awesome pendants like these in the Creative Sundries shop.

Why magic?  Even though it has been known to frustrate and even offend some people, whenever I’ve been asked how something was made or done, I always reply, “Magic.”  It became a running joke, even.  And it’s truly just a reflex now.

I wish I could “magic” my photo editing! haha

Thank you again, Sarah!!