A pair of Mormon missionaries just dropped by. I decided not to shoo them away. I figure they get enough door slams that maybe a few minutes of conversation would make their day, so we had a pleasant little chat.

Anyhoo, you know how they wear name tags that say "Elder _____"? Well, the name of one of the dudes was... Elder. Yes. Elder. The name tag said Elder Elder. This amused me.

You know those grand concert halls (for opera, symphonies, ballet, etc.)? You know those elevated box seats along the walls where, traditionally, the upper crust of society would sit looking down upon the commoners on the floor of the auditorium? Well, I scored me a couple prime box seats for an evening performance this Saturday by the Symphony.

Time to put on some fancy duds, shine my shoes, hook the arm of a classy lady through mine, and hobnob with the snooty set.

What the ****? What the ****?!?

I'm riding on my scooter, doing about 40 mph with traffic, when... get this... a ****ing BEE flies into my ****ing HELMET and ****ing stings me in my ****ing ear!

What the ****?!?

I was swerving in my lane, riding with one hand while my other hand is jammed up into my helmet trying to dig the little ****er out of my ****ing helmet. It's in my ear! There's a ****ing bee in my ear!

How? How the **** does this happen? What are the odds?!? ****! ****, I say!