I just got stung by a bee and it hurts like WHOA. The thing is, I haven't been stung by a bee in years. In fact, the last time I remember being stung was when I was six, running through the sprinkler, and I stepped on a bee, so that was my own damn fault. But this, this was just hostile.
I was walking back from lunch at the Qualy with our managing partner, whom I had run into on the street, and he stopped to chat with some Brazilian businessmen he knew. I was standing there, smiling politely, when I saw this big bee circling around. Of course, I ignored it, because I have no reason to be afraid of bees, and when you freak out, they freak out, and that's when the stinging starts. So I sort of waved at it when it landed on me, and it flew away, but then it came back, landed on my right arm and STUNG me, right in the tender, exposed skin of my poor, poor little arm.
So meanwhile, only one of the five men standing there noticed anything amiss, I guess because I was so stoic in the face of pain. As the partner and I were walking back into the building, I told him that the bee had stung me and he said, "Really?" He hadn't noticed me swatting at it and hopping around trying to get the stinger out apparently.
Anyway it hurts and I am pissed off! Stupid bee. It gives me some satisfaction to know that now it's dead because it left its stinger in me. Or is that not true? Aren't bees supposed to die once they lose their stingers? I choose to believe that it's true. I hope that bee is turning slowly somewhere in Bee Hell, along with those ones that killed Maccauley Culkin in "My Girl."