mum: please don't read this, you'll just be disappointed.
aaron's friend sean from moses lake was at the tattoo convention, so we went and got him an anchor tattooed on his elbow and a hot pink monkey tattooed on my hip. it was my very first, and will likely be my very last, because it hurt like a motherfucker. i was squeezing aaron's hand and liz's hand and tried to do my little meditative "describe the pain" routine, but i gave that up for mouthing, "ow ow ow" during the fifteen minutes it took sean to draw it up.
don't you worry, there was absolutely no reason to be there if you weren't getting a tattoo.
i decided on the monkey because, number one, it makes people go, "awww, that's so cute!", and number two, my mum always called me her little monkey because i was always climbing on things. i'll likely be sick of it within the month, but it's easily ignorable.
it's terribly disappointing to run out of things to say to people who used to be considered best friends, when all you can talk about it how you are (oh, i'm great, thanks!/ i'm ok, you?/perfectly shitty, i don't want to talk about it), how the weather is (it's soooo hot/rainy/miserable/beautiful), and what you've been up to (just work/school/nothing).
so far, five customers today have asked me what's wrong, so i'll tell the world: i didn't get enough sleep and i'm tired and i'm cranky and you being here doesn't help. would everyone kindly save their banking for thursday, when i'm not here? i'd be much obliged.
one year ago today: "i heart pompous social activism." and:
""hm," methought, "this is a strange hangover." then i realized, uh, i was still drunk."
two years ago today: "I can see it now...it'll be Breakfast at Tiffany's-esque. Always a mess, with a stray cat wandering around, but the inhabitant will be the epitome of style and class.