In Continuum.

Look at him, look at that old bastard go. More than half a century old, and still covering himself in bees just to make the Guinness World Record. That's passion, but every kind of passion involves a little stupidity and madness, because you don't want any one of those stingers to plunge itself into your skin. I haven't been stung by a bee before, but my father was stung by a hornet once. It wasn't so much about the pain that was traumatizing, but the fact that he had to urinate on his own finger. It's true, because the alkaline in our urine neutralizes the acid in the venom. It's good to have a bladder full of urine every once in a while when you are just walking around your living room. Who knows, really, you could step on a bee. That is exactly what happened to a friend of mine when she was just walking through her living room. She stepped on a bee and collapsed onto the sofa, screaming in pain. Apparently, the stinger somehow got into her toe, and you know how it is with bee stings. I've never been stung by a bee before, but I bet it is probably worse than a mosquito bite - which is annoying enough. At least I know it may be life-threatening to those who might be allergic to it, but thankfully my friend wasn't. Yet, this incident led me to another incident in which I'd like to talk about.

Have you ever met really inconsiderate people? Like, the kind of people that plays music over their cellphones on public transports, the kind that defeats the purpose of earphones altogether? You have to give it to these people at times, you just have to stand in awe at how stupid and obnoxious they are. Inconsiderate bigots in the public are like, well, bee stings. Even when you somehow manage to remove them (with a credit card, I read on the Internet), the area is still going to hurt or itch somehow. Not to mention the fact that it is going to be swollen like a grape, and that is what inconsiderate bigots do to all those around them. They are oblivious to how stupid they are, but everybody around them knows exactly that. They either don't care about it or don't know, because ignorance is bliss for these imbeciles. So they carry on with their inconsiderate acts, and then they go on with their lives as if nothing happened. It is worse that, when you read local forums, people tend to explain these actions as being a part of the local culture. Now wait just a minute here, when in the world did that happen? I can understand if "kiasu" is a local culture, but being an inconsiderate ass? I'm not buying it for one bit. 

I think bee stings are pretty serious, even when you are not exactly allergic to them buzzing insects. So I woke up a little earlier than usual today to go down to the nearest pharmacy to get my hands on some kind of medicine. I did my research online, and it suggests medications such as antihistamines, Benadryl, Ibuprofen, or Acetaminophen. I can't pronounce half of these words, which is why I keyed them into my iPod Touch and brought it along with me to the pharmacy this morning. According to the websites I read, these medications are supposed to be non-prescriptive, so I supposed I'd be in and out of the pharmacy in no time at all. The pain eased by morning, but I still wanted to get my hands on something that'd ease the itch or the swell. I read that if you mix water with baking powder or meat tenderizer, it'd neutralize the acidity as well, so take note to those living near bees! Anyway, so I made my way down to Bishan Junction 8 today to see if the kind lady at the pharmacy would sell me some kind of medication to deal with this bee sting problem. I didn't get my medication, because she insisted that my friend should visit the doctor first. But that really wasn't what ticked me off this morning at the pharmacy, though. Singapore is sensitive about medication, they don't give it out very easily unless they are useless pills like Panadols. Anyway, what happened before I met the pharmacist was what rubbed me the wrong way. 

There was a mother who brought her two daughters along to the pharmacy today, and both of them looked pretty much in their mid-teens, to me. They looked like average paying customers at first, until their prescription took a little too long to come along. That was when I noticed that the mother was already holding her bag of medicine, and they were just kind of standing there in front of the counter, chatting with the pharmacy. I was waiting at the back of the line, wondering when the chatting would stop, and the topic would shift to that of them leaving for good - it never really got there. OK, first of all, there are a lot of places for you to sit down and chat with someone. Go ahead and chat in parks, or cafes, or in a restaurant. If you really want to, go ahead and talk to each other while you are in the toilet stalls, or get his or her number so that you could call each other and chat on the phone for all I care. You don't go to the pharmacy and chat with the pharmacist even after you have gotten your damn medicine! The story gets worse after I decided to pause my music and listen to just what in the world they were talking about, and that was when these bigots upgraded to super-duper bigots. 

First, the mother mentioned something about a relative getting a diploma in pharmacy of some sort, and how surprised he was when he found out that the only career choice for him would be to become a pharmacist. Now, how stupid do you have to get for not realizing something this obvious? Were you really expecting yourself to be building rockets when you wanted to take up the diploma in pharmacy? So obviously the relative wasn't very smart, but that is fine - because I don't believe in a stupid gene. However, the mother then proved me wrong by going on and on about how many people are not wanting to be a pharmacist, and that the job does not seem to be very smart, or something like that. One of the daughters joined in the fun and said something about how, quote unquote, "That says a lot about this career". They were saying all that to the pharmacist, and all she could do was to just stand there and stare into the monitor in front of her. If I was her, I'd have poured rat poison into those bottles and gave it to them, or perhaps just give them a prostate exam even if they don't have one. It was just plain rude to talk about how bad a career is, right in front of someone who is in the career itself. How ignorant do you have to get? 

The pharmacist's face turned deathly white by this time, and all she wanted to do was to send these idiots packing and to get on to the next rightful customer - ME. The line started to grow behind me, and I felt somewhat awkward, because my close proximity with those idiots could cause others to assume that I was with them. Anyway, the conversation did not end with the three of them putting down pharmacists all around the world. Somehow, the conversation went on to something about their father's athlete's foot, and then one of the daughters took off her shoes and started asking her mother as well as the pharmacist to check if she has athletes foot. At that point in time, I was contemplating murder by stuffing bricks into her throat. There I was, eager to get some medicine for my dear friend with a bee sting on her toe, and there you are talking about your non-existent athlete's foot? I am sorry, but I think bee stings are way more serious than athlete's foot. In fact, bee stings completely blows athlete's foot out of the water, so eat your shoes and shut the hell up! She kept on going on and on about how she could have athlete's foot and everything, as if it is some life-threatening condition - it isn't. I'd be glad to stuff my athlete's foot up her nostril and then feed her my old, dry, and very dead feet skin. 

I caught the pharmacist's eyes, and for a moment I knew what she was trying to tell me. She was saying, say something now to become the next customer, or else I'd scream. I think it would have been more fun to see her scream, but I had to step in. So her gaze was on me for a while when I finally said it on top of my voice, "So, my friend was stung by a giant bee!" The mother and daughters team stared at each other, packed up, and left. They must have felt my imaginary athlete's foot in their mouths all at the same time, collectively. I hope the dead skins were salty enough for your taste! I didn't get the medicine I wanted in the end, and I had to leave empty-handed. All I got that day was a stomach full of anger, because I kept imagining them being in the same position as the old bastard above in the picture, covered in bees. I remember my friends from the army being chased by a colony of bees, and that was probably one of the funniest and brutal sights I have ever seen. I'd very much like to see that same fate befall upon them, and have bees crawl up their noses to sting their brains as well. 

I'd like to see them being covered in bees, and then be stung a hundred times over before they are able to seek help. Of course, I also hope to be the person right in front of them in the emergency room when they arrive at the hospital. I'd be checking myself in for, none other than, athlete's foot. So you can kiss my athlete's foot while you guys nurse your swollen skin and itch! Bee stings are no joke, and your small pointless chats can certainly wait. Come again when there is less human traffic, when people aren't behind you waiting desperately for some medication. If you truly want to insult the profession, wait till everybody else is gone before being an idiot to the pharmacist. At least give the pharmacist her exclusive right to murder you with a syringe, rather than to have everybody else in line harbor the same thoughts. It is always more satisfying, if you are a serial killer, to be the only murderer at the crime scene, right? You wouldn't want to share, you just want it to be your own work. I hope you get stung in a place on your back where you can never reach with your fingers! And when you use a towel to scratch it, it'd burst with pus of a thousand different colors, and you'd get an infection so bad that you vomit pus! OK, enough about bigots for tonight. Here's me, signing off.