Sorry!
Ow! Help! No, stop! Okay, okay, I'll write! Just leave me here to die!
It's amazing just how much pain a deadline can cause if you're trying to think about what the heck you're going to write the next time your hyper level drops a bit while navigating school corridors full of napping cats, doorposts, and possibly some cruel nerve gas that makes you think you're at school when it's the 28th of June. Especially those doorposts. They neither need nor really want company and will react violently. But back to the bees. They are snugly holed up in their hive while we put up with rain coming sideways in through our screens. And as you would know if you read the papers, you ignorant moronic mmmmmmmfffffffff! Okay, don't worry, I always restrain myself when I get a head full of steam. Anyway, since you read this, I'm sure you know (or at least knew) that there was a council meeting on Monday. Now that was interesting. A key opponent of bees and I daresay nature in general (high-and-mighty SUV driver!) had noticed that the hive had grown, and pointed this out at the meeting. "Oh, I saw that the hive seems to have grown, it looks as if there might be more bees in it." Yeah... Can someone explain to this lunatic that pine lumber coated with specially formulated paint is different from bees? I mean, we put the second hive body on on Sunday (try learning about that from the papers) and that is the equivalent of adding a few rooms to a house. Rooms, not people. Big difference there. Rooms don't steal your biscotti. The same person also pointed out that the cover was on crookedly. That is the equivalent of adding another window to a house, to continue the analogy; it lets in air and in a pinch can serve as an entrance. Finally, that same person (my, how observant this person is) let us know that having our front gate open is just inviting someone to come up and kick the hive. To quote a series of funny Guinness ads, Brilliant! If you ask me, anyone stupid enough to sneak into someone else's yard and kick an obviously active beehive deserves to get stung. Kicking a beehive is like taunting a Yorkshire Terrier; you'll live, but boy will it hurt. The hive, incidentally, has been in my backyard for about a month now, and the cherry tree down the block has never looked better.
It's amazing just how much pain a deadline can cause if you're trying to think about what the heck you're going to write the next time your hyper level drops a bit while navigating school corridors full of napping cats, doorposts, and possibly some cruel nerve gas that makes you think you're at school when it's the 28th of June. Especially those doorposts. They neither need nor really want company and will react violently. But back to the bees. They are snugly holed up in their hive while we put up with rain coming sideways in through our screens. And as you would know if you read the papers, you ignorant moronic mmmmmmmfffffffff! Okay, don't worry, I always restrain myself when I get a head full of steam. Anyway, since you read this, I'm sure you know (or at least knew) that there was a council meeting on Monday. Now that was interesting. A key opponent of bees and I daresay nature in general (high-and-mighty SUV driver!) had noticed that the hive had grown, and pointed this out at the meeting. "Oh, I saw that the hive seems to have grown, it looks as if there might be more bees in it." Yeah... Can someone explain to this lunatic that pine lumber coated with specially formulated paint is different from bees? I mean, we put the second hive body on on Sunday (try learning about that from the papers) and that is the equivalent of adding a few rooms to a house. Rooms, not people. Big difference there. Rooms don't steal your biscotti. The same person also pointed out that the cover was on crookedly. That is the equivalent of adding another window to a house, to continue the analogy; it lets in air and in a pinch can serve as an entrance. Finally, that same person (my, how observant this person is) let us know that having our front gate open is just inviting someone to come up and kick the hive. To quote a series of funny Guinness ads, Brilliant! If you ask me, anyone stupid enough to sneak into someone else's yard and kick an obviously active beehive deserves to get stung. Kicking a beehive is like taunting a Yorkshire Terrier; you'll live, but boy will it hurt. The hive, incidentally, has been in my backyard for about a month now, and the cherry tree down the block has never looked better.
That's all the sur-insanity-realism for now,
Jezaib
posted by Jezaib at
7:15 PM
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