That has nothing to do with anything.

I just thought it was a good title, and realized I’d probably never have a legitimate reason to use it, and figured a whining post about my circus freak, insanely huge and wildly painful, venom-filled arm was as good a cause as any.

This morning I awoke with one crushing realization: I cannot move my right arm.

One of these things is not like the other... (check out the difference in my wrists!!!)

I cannot bend it.

I cannot make a fist.

I cannot hold a knife or a pen or even type.

And, god help me, it hurts like a mofo.

What kind of supernatural venom was in that wasp anyway!?!?!

Something godawful, that’s for sure.

So what’s a newly crafted left-hander to do? Hit up Google for bad advice on home remedies, that’s what!!!

First I read that apple cider vinegar would make the swelling go down. Apparently venom is alkaline and vinegar is acidic and blah blah blah…enter wishful, stinky thinking. After two hours of this, my arm reeked so bad I could barely stand myself.

One shower later, I went back to the bullsh*t drawing board.

What’s that?
Lemons?
Lemon will reduce the swelling and neutralize the venom!?

Lemons do NOT reduce swelling. Lemons do nothing but sting.

Bring on the lemons!!!!

Well, let me break it down for you: Fresh lemon juice squeezed all over yourself does NOTHING but burn like hell and get sticky.

I spent the better part of the day basting myself like a filet of halibut.

So I would know.

Once your arm turns into a fleshy wiffle ball bat, it’s pretty much just a waiting game (and – long story that I won’t get into – my dentist tells me it’s a three-day waiting game.) Save the lemons and leave the vinegar in the bottle.

Thus, after trying to undo this painful and ridiculous situation, what I eventually had to admit to myself (lamentably) was that I got it all wrong: Here I fancied myself some kind of benevolent wasp ruler, their magnanimous and beneficent queen. I’ve rescued no less than 30 of them from the pool, and felt a certain amount of pride at our ‘bond.’

I was one of them – if only in spirit – and they respected me on that level.

But today?

Lugging my useless freak arm around and trying to ignore the pain?

Realizing I was unable to hold a pen or – god forbid – cut up an onion with the now-useless limb? Being forced to brace my arm against my stomach in order to carry my purse?

Yeah, baby.

F-CK YOU, WASPS!!!

This relationship is 0-v-e-r. You are as good as dead to me, Waspy.

See other people. Screw other people. Sting other people.

Just don’t come around here no more.

Or say hello to my little friend…Raid Wasp & Hornet Killer 33.

p.s.

Mark, there was only one ray of light in my life this morning: The news that wasp stings rendered your arm a sperm whale.

Not that I wish you harm, it was just reassurance that I wasn’t going to die, and a metaphorical pat on the back that I have it bad…but someone has it even worse than me. Cheers!

Here’s hoping the super dose of venom gives up super powers!

(Like the power to congregate in large groups in fields of weeds… Hmmm….)