I'm sitting here, on your average Sunday afternoon. Here's the state of the union in the world today:
1. We are still facing a huge economic recession. Thumbs down.
2. That economic recession has made for great jokes on SNL lately. Thumbs up.
3. I got another tattoo yesterday. Thumbs up.
4. I just ate a really good sandwich. Thumbs up.
5. I joined a band. Thumbs up.
So, overall, despite the recession, we have 80% thumbs up, which is not awesome, but not not-awesome, so there you have it. I'd call 80% an average I'm comfortable with, but it's no ivy league. So, economy, sack up and get out of that recession, gimme some bucks.
Moving on to bigger and better things:
My friend R and I were talking this past week, a remarkably rainy week in May, I should add, and we came to the conclusion that we were both ready to shake things up a little bit. The conversation went a little like this:
R - "I think I'm going to pierce my nose."
Me - "I think that would be cool."
R - "Really?"
Me - "Yeah. I'll go with you, I could use something myself." (read: this is blatantly false).
So, what started as a random throw-in and a bit of nostril nostalgia (R apparently sneezed her last nose piercing out during a camping trip and that baby closed up in a mere 48 hours. She has a crazy fast immune system...those T cells are on overdrive man) turned into what is now a new tattoo on my wrist-ish/hand area.
I have been drawing stars on myself for the last 2 years. I can't really ever get mad at students or penalize them for drawing on themselves, because...well let's be serious. I am a walking easel.
Anyway, so lately, the doodles have taken the form of three stars on my left wrist that reach up to the hand. Back in the day when I was kicked in the hands by a horse and became mildly ambidextrous as a result of only having slight mobility in my left hand, I probably could've drawn it on my right wrist, but those days are gone. On Saturday, R and I decided that we would make those estrellas permanente, and like that - it was written.
We traveled many streets to ye humble tattoo parlor right next to the IFC theater. Let me tell you, ever since my go-to place, Andromeda, closed down - I thought for sure I'd never get another body art addition. Let the records show that is a falsehood. This new place (well, new to me) is conveniently located amidst many falafel shops and subway lines. And those people are crazy. The girl in charge was actually pretty funny; she entertained me and R with stories of how you can get a piercing in your cheek (they anchor it with jewelry that lives in your dermis), how much it hurts to get an unnecessarily large Chinese symbol tattooed on your hip when your jeans a little too tight, and shared her thoughts on nipple piercing). The highlight of the place was probably this G.I. who, when we strolled in, was 2 hours into a 3-hour masterpiece, which included but was not limited to:
- a rainbow extending from his left hip to his right groinish area
- a leprechaun in said rainbow, or adjacent to it, anyway, smiling and drawn to look like the tattoo artist
- two shotguns with "God" written in them
- Ron Jeremy
- Ron Jeremy's signature
First we got to watch R get her nose pierced. It was nuts. I've never seen that happen in person. They put a cork in your nose, push a needle through, and that shit's done. No redness, no bleeding - our bodies are crazy things.
Then, it was my turn. I was surprised that it didn't really hurt (well, that's a lie - the last one did, because he's drawn the stencil and then filled it in once it had gotten a little sore). But my artist - a guy who, no lie, was named Marty McFly, and looked just a little like Michael J. Fox - talked my ear off the whole time, per my request, so it was fine. The guy next to me drank 3 Nesteas in the time it took me to get my wrist inked up. 3 Nesteas in 15 minutes - that's a tea every 5 minutes. I'm surprised he didn't wee wee over the moon, to quote my grandfather.
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