Skip to main content

Wasps prefer Starbucks


Photo courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net (Rosemary Ratcliffe)

I met my cousin Pat for coffee at Starbucks yesterday, and something terrible happened.
We were in mid-gossip when I felt a prick between my second and third toe. My sandal went flying and so did a tiny little wasp which had insinuated itself into my shoe.
"Quick," I said to Pat. "Can you go in and get some ice? She came back with a barista who was holding a teaming bag of ice wrapped in a cloth.
You realize, of course, that there isn't much flesh on your toes, so the little bastard manage to stick its stinger right into the bone of my toe. And then he died a well-earned and nasty death under my shoe.
Funnily enough, it didn't swell or hurt, so I continued my conversation with Pat and I went off to do some errands. About 3 a.m., my foot started to hurt like a bitch. The itch was so bad, that the sensation travelled to my other foot and up both my legs.
So I crawled out of bed and reached for the white wine vinegar and a Benadryl.
I heard about the vinegar thing on Dr. Oz and it works but only if you catch the itch in the early stages. So all it did for me was make me smell like a well-dressed salad.
Once the Benadryl kicked in, I finally got to sleep but the foot started pounding again this morning.
I have a condition which is called large local reaction, which means if I get stung by an insect or bitten by a spider, the area blows up and stings for days and days. The reaction I got yesterday has made me ponder cutting off my toes.
It pissed me off because I had managed to get through an entire season without a wasp sting, though the spiders in my back garden had bitten my ass at least ten times. Spiders are particularly vicious creatures because they are not content to bite you once; they like to take a few slices out of your hide for good measure.
Anyway, the wasp sting got me thinking about something I heard on CBC Morning with Tom Power the other day. Apparently, this time of year, the queen wasps make an over abundance of nectar -- too much for the wasp clan, or whatever they are called. The excess nectar becomes fermented and all the drones get blasted on it, much like my old crew at the Georgetown on a Friday night. Not only are they polluted, but they're also nasty drunks who thinking nothing of attacking an unsuspecting coffee lover like myself.
Hah.
So a word of caution to all of you.
Stay off the patio at Starbucks until the snow flies.
And if you see a drunk wasp, call 9-1-1.
Safety. It's your responsibility.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Ashley Simpson: Conversation with Derek Favell Revealed

  On April 2, 2017, a family friend of Ashley Simpson opened her Facebook Messenger and got the surprise of her life.  Cathy MacLeod had been trying to correspond with Ashley's boyfriend, Derek Favell, who was the last person to see the St. Catharines native before she disappeared from her home in Salmon Arm, B.C. a year before. She wanted to know more about what happened to Ashley, and why Favell had refused to take a polygraph test when many others close to the missing woman agreed to do so. "I wanted to poke the bear," she said, and sent several messages to Favell pleading with him to talk to her.  " Please help us," she wrote. "It's been 10 months of pure hell. A lie detector would help if you have nothing to hide. I beg of you, help us, take the test to clear your name if there’s nothing to hide." Many, including members of the Simpson family, found Derek's behaviour, at least, curious. Ashley had disappeared on April 27, 2016. Yet it took

Ashley Simpson: A Father Remembers

I have asked Ashley Simpson's family and friends to give us a glimpse into the life she lived before going missing nearly a month ago. Here is how her father John remembers his sweet girl. Ashley was a treat when she came into this world, a smashing 9lbs 8 ounces with a  head full of hair and nails that needed to be clipped. She has made many friends in her journey of life and continues to make them as we speak. She has made this world a better place by her love of mankind and this place we call Earth; unfortunately this life she has lived hasn't been the best for her. She has suffered through unbearable pain and suffering through her menstrual cycles. She has cysts on her ovaries that make those 10 days a living hell. She had one of her ovaries removed when she was just 14; the other they won't take out till she is 40 or older. Years of hell for my Ashley. I so feel her pain every month but she doesn't quit, doesn't give in.   That's my

Jack Van Dusen: 90 Years Old and Not a Drop Wasted

A heart is not judged by how much you love; but by how much you are loved by others."  -- L. Frank Baum It's not easy standing out in a family like the Van Dusens. They are like tribbles; they are everywhere. In politics. In the media. In the fine arts. Even on stage at local fairs raising money for good causes. But Jack Van Dusen is no ordinary Van Dusen. He's a trailblazer. He was the voice of Ottawa anchoring the local news in the early days, with the sidekicks you see in the photo above. He was on Parliament Hill rubbing shoulders with the likes of John George Diefenbaker and making mischief with the relatively small cabal of ink stain wretches who were the first generation to talk to Canadians over the air waves. After a successful time in the media, Jack had a second career as a public relations guy. That's when I met him sitting at the lunch table at the National Press Club with his brother Tom, the columnist Charles Lynch, Sergeant-at-Arms Gus Clou