Buzzzzzzz......OUCH!!!!

Can someone out there in internetland please tell me how this happens???
I go approximately 30 years, 2 months, and 14 days (give or take) without EVER being stung by a bee and then....
BAM! One day last month I was inducted into the BSC, Bee Sting Club, on my porcelain-skinned left arm while enjoying an afternoon filled with watermelon slices and an unfortunately broken slip 'n' slide in a friend's backyard.
The little prick (no offense) just came out of nowhere and stabbed my poor arm for no good reason! Needless to say, after a little bacon soda & another wedge of melon I was back to new.
So fast forward to today, approximately 3 weeks after my initiation into the BSC, as I'm swimming in a mermaid-like fashion in a relaxing saltwater pool and next thing I know there is another one of those freakin' pricks jackhammering the side of my oh-so delicate neck! I'm like, it can't be?!? But it was another busy bee using me as it's prey.
What the heck? How did I go so long without such painful trauma to end up having it twice in just under a month???
What did I do to deserve this?!??!?

ROAD RAGE ANONYMOUS

If you don't know me personally or very well then your probably not aware of one of the qualities I possess.
I should warn you that this "quality" isn't anything to be proud of.
I, Roundtooth have a strong case of ROAD RAGE.
Yes, I'm owning up to it and I might have been the one honking and cursing at you the other day as you seemed to forget that you were in control of a large and dangerous machine otherwise known as an automobile. Chances are you were more focused on the conversation taking place on your cell phone instead of the green light inviting you to move along.
Anyway, I know this isn't a healthy habit, beeping at others and raising my hands out the window like a New York city taxi driver but I just can't help it.
Until now that is. I am taking steps to detoxify my brain and Jeep of the nasty ROAD RAGE syndrome.
I have to come to grips with the fact that there will always be complete morons, tourists, dumb bimbos, those forever absentminded, busy soccer moms, clueless teenagers, old farts, and many others out there on the same roads as me and my Jeep.
To begin the detoxification process I considered dismantling my Jeep's horn. Then I decided it wouldn't be fair to Jeep, basically ripping it's heart out. Who lives without a heart???
So, acupuncture is helping to calm my nerves and ease my ROAD RAGE tendencies.
The ironic thing is, the other day I had just left acupuncture feeling utterly zen when I noticed a woman in a mini-van.
She was probably trying to think of what to make the kids for dinner and wondering whether or not her husband paid the mortgage. While pondering these thoughts she became frustrated with the car in front of her in the parking lot.
This car obviously couldn't decide whether it wanted to go left or right. Thats when mini-van-woman raised her hands to literally touch the ceiling of her van and then she began what can only be described as yelling and screeching like a hyena. I honestly thought she was going to grow facial hair with rage she was displaying.
Then it occurred to me, I am a fellow ROAD RAGE HYENA.
Is that what I looked like during my fits of ROAD RAGE??? (Obviously yes but a lot cuter)
Is there such thing as ROAD RAGE ANONYMOUS?
If so I need to stand up and say, Hi my name is Roundtooth and I have ROAD RAGE.

HONK, USE YOUR BLINKER DAMN IT, HONK HONK,
Roundtooth

Excuse me but would you mind picking my ass up? I dropped it over there behind the elliptical machine...

Yes, I am referring to my very own plump (J. Lo would be jealous and no I'm not bragging) fat ass.

No, I'm not interested in being 98 pounds, haven't been since I was 10 but I am looking to shed some  major behind off my thick frame.

Seriously people, I have enough between my hips and bottom to give implants to an asian family of 14! (God love em' but they are ass-less people).

So my very first adventure in the gym began yesterday with my new and extremely nice and knowledgeable trainer.

We'll call him Trainer (makes sense).

He tells me that I'm going to "warm up" by doing 10 to 15 minutes on this beast of a machine.

I them tell him that we'll see how I'm doing after 2 minutes and take it from there.

After twenty minutes and a conversation with a fellow ass-dropper on the machine beside me, Trainer comes over to see how I'm doing.

He's impressed (or at least wants me to think he is) at my effort in succeeding past the 2 minute mark.

He then asks me how I'm feeling. 

Now for those of you who don't know, I am an honest (and often sarcastic) Ab so I tell him the truth, 

"I'm feeling like my ass has fallen off and is back behind this machine."

Trainer finds this very amusing.

Well, I'm serious! Unfortunately though, my ass did not fall off.

It's still there. All 100 pounds of it.

Yes, I believe my behind comprises 100 pounds of my total weight.

Tomorrow I will return to Trainer and see what he has in store for my caboose. 

Roundtooth