隠し彫り

Checking out my tattoo mid-laundry day. I swear I've somehow doubled my loads. My mom is here, but she washes her own stuff so that's no excuse. I've donated at least half of my clothing.

Part doodle-by-an-8-year-old,
part tattoo artist's rescue,
pre-clean up

Idk. Maybe I forgot how to wash clothes.

I was just trying to come up with how I would explain my tattoo to a random person if they asked about it. Considering the fact that the only people who will ever see my tattoo are a husband and maybe doctors - none of whom will care - trying to shape my thoughts into some form of logic is just for fun.  

I see things in images so my reasons were more like memory captures. I remember how I hated the States when we moved here. I remember my brother mowing the lawn with this loud old rickety lawn mower. And I remember the weeds that would grow right back up after he mowed them.  He would be so angry that he would try to cut out the roots with scissors, but they'd just pop back up the next day. My father called them "wildflowers", but I think that was just for my sake because I tried to make bouquets from the clippings. They were weeds. The whole neighborhood was plagued with them. I remember doodling on my scratch pad under my blanket because the room was so cold. I was obsessed with wildflowers. They were like little superheroes standing up to my brother's persistent oppression.

Anyway, I decided to get a tattoo and found the old book in some boxes in the basement. I decided on my rib cage for a few reasons, partly because I incurred a small scar there recently. It was a pretty random resolution, but not.

I took the page to a tattoo artist in Ferndale on a friend's recommendation and he did this cool thing with a giant printer and turned the drawing into a stencil. The needle on my rib bones made my teeth rattle and I had to cover my mouth a few times but I was a good girl and stayed silent.

Okay that reasoning still makes no sense...it makes perfect sense in my head, though. I'm trying to unshuffle the images into a storyboard but it's not working. So if ever asked, I'll just say that my tattoo is a thing of great personal significance.   

Omg. "300" is on.

The Final Count-doooown

This damn Geico commercial comes on every 2 minutes.

Never heard the song before, but I love it! Unfortunately, it's stuck in my mother's head, so now she's singing it. She sounds like a cracked out cat in heat.

I loooove this song! It's so 80's it hurts. So I bought it on iTunes. 

Now whenever someone's using the microwave in the break room, I run in and blast it and headbang/air guitar. If I'm feeling more chill, I'll stand in the doorway and purse my lips and do the do the coffee stir hip action thing like the lady in the blue sweater.

My coworkers hate me.

Alien Nation

Friends who visited me with coffee routinely every morning now look the other way when I wave hello. People have completely omitted me from their lives. 

Kristyl barely talks to me at work and only responds to my texts after work. 

I have made new friends. Not because I'm losing the old ones, but because I sort of do anyway. But even they treat me as though I come with an expiration date. Like I'll spoil soon. 

Not sure what I might have done to avoid it, but the very glaring reaction has left me feeling sad and alone. People who've been my rock are now distancing themselves. 

Why I'm Cool with Early Morning Meetings

#thebenefitsofpeoplewatching
#3rdmeetinginarow
#hotmessexpress
#archnemesis
#justtakeit

My Booty Hurts

So I had a car accident. Sort of. 

I was putting some party groceries in my trunk and an SUV that was parked in front of my car backed into my car. The force of the hit rocked my car and knocked me a few feet back and onto my butt and hands. 

I guess that still qualifies as a car accident?

Long story short, the driver was genuinely sorry, she begged me let her call 911, it was Halloween and really dark and rainy, my Vulcan ears were glued on too tight, the back of my Uhura dress was soaked, she admitted that she didn't look behind her first because "there wasn't a car here when I pulled in". Between her and her boyfriend (who was in a Jason costume) fussing over me, and me shaking like a leaf, and what I guess was shock (I was incoherent and in a fog?) it was too much and I insisted that I was fine.

Until I got home. Whatever that bone is down at your butt...tail bone?...it kinda hurts. A lot. 

Per my mom's advice, I tapped tiger balm and lavender oil - the same stuff I used on my brother once after my father whipped him - to my back, My mom said I had no idea what I was doing and helped me start over from scratch.

Aaaand I forgot about my tattoo and my mom saw it.  

Dammit. 

It is literally a matter of moments before she tells my brother.

And so it begins.

#killmenow