My battle with bees has been very well documented amongst my group of friends, but I think it’s time I let the rest of the world in on what I’ve been dealing with my entire life.

Let’s go…

From a very early age, bees have always been a scumbag to me.  As a child I was stung… a lot. Not like a million times at once like the nerd from My Girl, but at least like twice a month-ish. Enough to where people took notice. No one made a big deal of it when I was younger because I was a piece of shit and everyone around me just assumed I was fucking with a bees nest or something. Once again, if you knew me as a child, that’s something you’d absolutely be able to see me doing.

When I got a little bit older I mellowed out (not much) but I still got stung all of the time. I tried bug spray, that didn’t work. I tried walking away and they just followed me. Eventually I went to the doctor for it. I explained to him that if I see a bee, 99.99 percent of the time I’m going to get stung by it. I could swat at them or I could sit there totally still, it doesn’t matter, I am most likely going to get stung. The doctor laughed a little bit which was sort of unnerving, then he explained to me that I probably have some kind of scent or whatever that makes bees aggressive. Or I’m lying about not fucking with the bees. Either way, this doctor wasn’t very helpful.

Not much I can do about that. So for as long as I can remember, mostly in the summer/late spring/early fall, I get stung by bees. Just the other day I was taking a leak in my parents pool and my sister noticed a bee and immediately started laughing because she knew what was about to happen. Within two minutes the bee was aggressively circling me as I punched at it like a moron, hoping to fend off its attack. Most of my punches missed and the bee quickly stung me on the back.

I cursed a few times and continued on with my day. Because unlike Mcaulky Caulkin’s character in My Girl, I can get stung and be totally fine. Because that’s what winners and champions do. They press on.

Can we talk about how fucking dumb bees are for a minute?

Imagine if every time you saw a friend or whatever give someone the finger they died. You probably wouldn’t give anyone the finger, ever. Unless they really deserved it, like apparently I do.