Bee Girl Story

Halloween 1993 I dressed up as the Bee Girl. You know, this Bee Girl.

There must be a picture of me in my homemade (read: stapled together) Bee Girl costume floating around somewhere, probably in the closet of my room at my parents' house, where all the Ninja Turtle stuff is stashed. But I don't have one to post, so you'll have to imaginize it. (How do I look? Cute? Ok, good.)

***EDITED TO ADD THIS:

(Many, many props to my dear friend Amy for unearthing, digitizing, and sending me this photo. You cannot fully appreciate how magical it is that she did this until you know that she moved to the east coast a full 5 years before this photo was taken. The fact that she a) had it, b) knew where to find it, c) took the time to scan it, send it... I'm in awe. Amy, you are the best!)

I was a freshman at UCLA and working in the promotions department of our campus radio station. Working in promo meant that I had to help construct and paint a hideous, lumpy brown dinosaur for the homecoming parade, which fell on Halloween weekend. (Why a dinosaur? I certainly don't know now and I think I didn't even know then. One of those college mysteries. Was our homecoming theme The Flintstones? It seems unlikely. But I digress.)

Being in promo also meant that I had to walk in the parade, with the hideous float, handing out whatever promotional crap we had to give away. In some sort of cosmic coincidence, the promo items I had to distribute were cassette tapes (I know! 1993, remember?) of Blind Melon's No Rain, which was the song that had the Bee Girl in the video.

The parade starts. I am walking along and people literally start losing their minds. "Oh my God! It's the Bee Girl!" Then they realize I am giving free shit away and they REALLY start losing their minds: "BEE GIRL! OVER HERE, BEEEEE GIIIIIRRRLL!!!"

Several people wanted to have their picture taken with me, which was very flattering and also slightly confusing. I mean, they knew that I wasn't the actual Bee Girl, right? She's like a ten-year-old kid? I tried to ignore that little conundrum and just enjoy the glow of temporary celebrity.

Later in the night, I had an interview scheduled for some other volunteer position in a campus organization. I know, I was a busy little bee. (HAH! See that? I was the Bee Girl and I was busy? LIKE A BEE!?)

My interrogator, I mean, interviewer must have made up his questions in advance because the final query was: Pick one item of your clothing and explain how it defines you. Someone else in the room stood up in my defense, "Dude, she's in a costume!" But I managed to pull something out of my ass by relating myself to my shoes (nice, sturdy, straight-laced normal shoes). And really, anyone who shows up at a job interview in a Bee Girl costume should have to take whatever they dish out, yes?

Did I get the job? Yes, but I didn't keep it.

Did I stay with campus radio? Sadly, no. I love me some free stickers and T-shirts and CDs as much as the next kid, but promo is just not me.

Do I wish like all get-out that I still had that damn Bee Girl costume stashed away somewhere, too?

Wouldn't you?

PS Thanks to Jason and his post on MamaPop for inspiring this post.
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