Hivey Keitel R.I.P.

Okay, so I would normally never do two posts in a row that were related, but I think it is warranted in this case. Last week I shared my new beehive with you. And how it is important to not pretend you are a bear when you are handling bees. There was also some sexually oriented stuff too. Whatever the reason--whether you delight in the thought of me being attacked by a mad swarm of ravenous bees or you were trolling the net for porn, typed in bubees, and found me and my hive instead of boobies because you can't spell--you spent some time reading my post according to Google analytics. I feel like I should answer some of the questions I received. I got nearly a thousand hits on that post. That is a record for me. Thank you for googling bears, boobies, bees, or whatever it was you did. Maybe you just followed a Facebook link. Whatever. That's still cool. Regardless I got a lot of questions. From strangers and from friends. I feel like I should answer them. So I will.

"You are retarded."
Well, that's not really a question. But I feel like I should address it. It's an understandable assertion. I admit that. In my defense, handling bees looked easy on YouTube.

"Where did you get stung?"
My hands, neck and nipple.

"I want honey!"
Again, not really a question. But I get the point. Yeah, you can have some honey when it's ready.

"Can I come over and borrow one of your surfboards? Funny post by the way."
This is a question. Not about bees. But the post was mentioned, so I'll address it. Yes, he came and borrowed a surfboard and yes, I know the post was funny.

There was some curiosity about how the hive is doing, and sadly I have to say that they fled for their tiny little lives. I did trap them in an electrical box, move that box and then wrap the box in plastic, potentially suffocating them. I then positioned a PVC pipe connecting the bees in their trapped electrical box to their new home. I tried to cajol the bees through the tube to their new home by yelling at them and hitting the box with a stick. I essentially tortured those poor bees. In the end, I had a professional beekeeper come to my aid, Todd, a very knowledgeable and patient fellow who started the Santa Barbara Beekeepers Association. Even with all his experience, knowledge, and bee suit those bees just wanted to get away--from me, I think. It's too bad. I miss those little guys, even though they stung my nipple and stuff. Those bees got me thinking about bees. My backyard seems lonely and quiet without their incessant buzz. If you know where a beehive is, in your backyard or attic or something, let me know. I'll come over with my hat that I stapled cheese cloth to and get them. I have an empty hive. I've been watching more YouTube videos, so don't worry, I know what I'm doing now. I really need a hive for my lonely garden.