Pandora is trying to shut me down
For the past 10 hours, I've been listening to the same exact songs over and over. I feel like a tween jamming on her beloved Justin Bieber album for weeks on repeat.
It makes me feel like I broke Pandora. Somewhere at Pandora HQ, some account technician found my blog and SHUT DOWN it's ability to evolve. It's like Pikachu with no thunder stone– am I right? Shut up, nerd.
It's making my life feel very methodic, and I'm not one for routine as it is. Today I carried my patio table and chair out to the sidewalk. Sitting there made listening to the same music again for the 1*10^99th time almost bearable. Instead of watching the cats plead for attention, like I usually deal with, I watched a bee land on my shirt. It was great.
Normally, I'd get very nervous and jump from my chair, but the numbing effect the music was having on me caused me to permit it to crawl around a bit. I watched as it inspected the sunflower yellow of my shirt. It appeared to be trying to collect pollen, alas, it is a shirt, stupid bee. I chucked in my seat. It was the first time I've ever laughed with a bee on me in a life– knowingly.
Normally, when a bee is on me, I feel like this guy.
When I was a kid, I was at the 4th of July parade near my Aunt's house and a bee landed on my leg. To onlookers, it looked more like this.
It crawled up my leg and into my shorts before I noticed him. Being the douche that it was, it proceeded to sting the inner pit of my knee. The bee was flung from my flailing leg and smashed into the pavement by my cousin's foot, then my Aunt's foot, then my mother's foot, then my tears. I was pathetically carried back to the house, grasping my leg as though it'd been run over by a float.
The stupid bee on my shirt was now moving towards the end of my sleeve and I began to get a little nervous. He was now inside my shirt and I began to panic. I blindly attempted to smash his body... I missed. I took a moment to feel where he was before I'd resort to tearing my shirt off and running. Oh no. The laughter was over– he'd found the stamens of stench. What's smelly, looks like the center of a flower, and is covered in hair? Vaginarmpit. I smashed, he crumbled, I laughed, he stung, I hurt. Nobody won.
The bee was long gone. I remained curled up on the ground until a passerby stopped and asked what was wrong. I told them of the horror. They kept walking. Bees suck.
The end.
Logged 3 hours 13 minutes over the past week.
Clocked in @ 10:30am 9/4/2012
Clocked out @ 11:56am 9/4/2012
34 hours 23 minutes in
