Polska Brain Jelly

Archive for July, 2012

Pretty Lights

by on Jul.05, 2012, under Music

Yesterday was Independence Day.  The day that signals a burning desire to light off sparkly explosives.

Like these:

I do have one question, though.  Why does it seem that all the patriotic music played during fireworks shows are either marches or country music?  I’m not a fan of either, although marching band music is preferred if I had to pick one.  There is only so many times that I can hear Lee Greenwood and Toby Keith (I had to look that one up, as I have just a general idea of what the guy sounds like.  I thought at first the singer was Trace Adkins, but I was mistaken) without my brain melting, and I get to hear them every year at least once a year while watching colorful explosions.

Is it like this everywhere else as well?  I would love a refreshing change one year where I don’t have to endure just country and marches.

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A Bee on My Bonnet

by on Jul.01, 2012, under Uncategorized

I’m riding down the highway coming to a junction, doing about 60 mph.  A bug thumps me in the chest, and it’s a fairly large one judging by the impact.  This isn’t unusual, I’m smacked by any assortment of things while I’m riding: bugs, rocks, hail, etc.

This bug, however, decided it would bounce off of my chest and then swing up and rest on my helmet where my visor meets my faceplate.

Oh, and this was a bee.

And it was pissed.

I would say this was a pucker factor of eight once I realized what was hitching a ride on my helmet.  I’ve never been stung by a bee, so I have no idea if I’m allergic to them.  I would suspect not since I have no honey allergies, but I’m not sure if that’s completely indicative of a bee sting allergy or not.

At any rate, I don’t want to be stung by anything riding at 60 mph while rounding a corner and merging onto another highway.

I twist my head to try to blow it off, hoping it doesn’t blow off onto my shoulder or back.  The bee slides around the visor and out of my peripheral vision, but when I bring by head around, it scurries back into the middle of my visor.

It stares at me.  I stare at it, then realize I’m heading down the highway at 70 mph now, so I better watch where I’m going.

It’s fluttering its wings in a very pissed off manner and I’m fairly certain it was staring me down thinking, “You’ve got to stop sometime, and when you do, you’re mine.”

There’s nothing like having a bee with a bright yellow butt staring at you while you race down the highway.

Fortunately, the second head twist maneuver blew it off, but it did thump my shoulder as it left, so I spent the next five minutes anticipating a bee sting somewhere on my shoulder or back.

This is why I ride on the highway with a full face helmet.  I love the wind on my face, but I don’t like bees on my face.

Or their butt-needles in my face.

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