Had to go research this thing, and the answer to what to do if it stings you is scream.
from Wikipedia-
“One researcher described the pain as “…immediate, excruciating, unrelenting pain that simply shuts down one’s ability to do anything, except scream. Mental discipline simply does not work in these situations. In terms of scale, the wasp’s sting is rated near the top of the Schmidt sting pain index, second only to that of the bullet ant, and is described by Schmidt as “blinding, fierce [and] shockingly electric”.“
Soooooo…dissociate to escape or?
It’s laying eggs in you.
Let’s back up a second and fully appreciate that description.
The Schmidt sting pain index, a widely used classification system for the bites and stings of ants, bees and wasps, is literally the personal ranking system of a guy named Justin Schmidt, who goes around letting bugs sting him for science. Like, that’s this Thing as a scientist.
In one entry, he describes the sting of the common bee as “almost pleasant, [like] a lover just bit your earlobe a little too hard.”
In another, the sting of the yellowjacket is described as “hot and smoky, almost irreverent. Imagine W. C. Fields extinguishing a cigar on your tongue.“
So when the Schmidt sting pain index characterises the sting of the tarantula hawk as “blinding, fierce [and] shockingly electric”, well, now you know what your standard for comparison is!
this is fascinating but when do we kinkshame Justin Schmidt
my rooster doesn’t crow when the sun rises, he crows when he hears humans wake up, like you can literally just roll over in bed and he’s like “hoLY SHIT THAT’S A PEOPLE THE HUMAN ISAWAKE AHHH AHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”
the same rooster - god guys he’s socute - he always lets hens eat treats first and won’t have any treats until they’ve had as much as they want, unless it’s a blueberry. shit, blueberries are like serious fucking business for Pharaoh. he’s a gentleman until the damn blueberries come out and then he don’t play no fuckin games
in case you were wondering this is him
It’s been almost a year since I made this post so I guess I should update you guys on Pharaoh!
He’s still a sweetie but with more attitude and will fuck up your shit if he’s grumpy or if you’re wearing shoes with shoelaces. He doesn’t like that. He watches Netflix with me a lot and cries anytime theres explosions or gunshots in a show. He has so many chicken lady friends who he adores and he has fathered 4 chicks. I tried to train him to walk on a leash but he protested by laying down and refusing to move, so we gave that up after a while. He likes to guard me from cars and squirrels, and even plastic bags (which are his worst fear)
When I was a child, from the time I was about four and could understand things, my mom told me and my brother that we should have a secret word. That way, if we were ever in trouble or felt unsafe and we didn’t want the people around us to know we needed her to come get us, we could let her know. So she let us pick the word and my brother and I chose the phrase “peanut butter cups.” (I’m happy to share the phrase now since both my brother and I are adults now).
I used the phrase twice in my life. Once, I was at a friends house when I eight years old. Her dad got really drunk and was throwing things against the wall. I was really scared and I didn’t want to draw attention to myself on the phone when I called my mom to come get me because I didn’t know if he would get more violent if I asked her to come get me. So I called her and was calm and after a couple minutes I asked “Hey mommy, did you get me those peanut butter cups from the store?” And she said “I’ll be right there.” And she came and got me within minutes.
Second, I was a teenager spending the night at a friends house. Her brother and dad were drinking and they started talking about things that made me uncomfortable - ie: what they liked to do to women. My friend didn’t seem perturbed and said that was normal for them and that I shouldn’t worry. But I was worried because they were really drunk and I was 15 and the only ‘woman’ around that wasn’t related to them. I went in my friends room, told her I needed to call my mom and say goodnight. Before I hung up with her I asked “Next time we go to the store, can we get some peanut butters cups? I’ve been craving them.” And she came and got me, just like that.
Two incidents, one as a young child, one years later as a teen. Don’t discredit this stuff, it fucking works. My brother used it a few times too. Let your child pick the word and no never, ever, ever, ever get mad at them for using it no matter what it is.
DO NOT SCROLL PAST THAT.
Off topic, but very important! I was taught to yell “this is not my mom/dad.” A young kid freaking out in public is likely to be ignored out of embarrassment, but a kid telling you right out that they don’t know who is messing with them? That will turn heads.