It's about how I exclaimed, "God-dammit" in a Christian tattoo parlor last night?
So, it's Saturday...Sean had to drive up to Santa Barbara to help his Dad and Aunt, who flew down from Oregon this week, take care of their Uncle's estate since he passed away in April. (Sean brought me back down something I have been dreaming of forever and cannot believe we own now...I'll have to take a photo and share about later)
Since he was gone all day I was on my own and made plans with my mom...together we met a friend and went to lunch, then we ran around getting some shopping done. One of our stops was Michael's and while we were there I was on the lookout for pirate anything to use in the journals for the campers (in 19 days...Camp is in 19 days). I managed to come up with a couple of cheap ideas and then my mother, resourceful woman that she is, mentions that the tattoo artist my family has befriended in the last 8-or-so years loves pirate stuff and might be willing to trace out a few things for us to us. GREAT IDEA. So we head to the tattoo parlor...a very successful shop that is exceptionally Christian based, it's a fascinating oxymoron to see these guys as tattooed and pieced as can be, yet they'd be happy to discuss the bible anytime, anywhere.
Sid was nice enough to let my mom and I dig through his files where I found perfect drawings to use. While we were in the back room the various guys would come in and out and at one point Sid was back there so my mom asked him about my desire to get my nose pieced...who he'd recommend going to and everything...
(I feel like a total TW lemming...I had wanted to get it done for a few years but, would no way do it...then got really excited about the idea when she was nice enough to explain hers back a few months ago...I was dumb and thought it was like an earring post on the inside, which totally freaked me out, but when she told me it was flat it seemed much more feasible/appealing...and with the whole freak-out about having to be 30 now a nose piercing seemed like a good way to deal with it...after all, a tattoo did the trick back when I turned 25)
So, what piercer? Well wouldn't you know Bill, who was standing right there at the copy machine, was a piercer. After a 643 question and answer session that he was exceptionally patient through, I decided I'd go for it...except his equipment needed to be autoclaved so it'd be about forty minutes before I could "go for it"...brave girl that I am.
Instead of sitting there freaking out, we went home to pick up Sean and help him unload my jackpot from Santa Barbara out of our minivan...ate some In&Out so I'd have something to vomit when I freaked out...and headed back to the tattoo parlor.
At this point it's almost 10pm on Saturday so it's the place to be...and can I tell you how COOL I always feel when I'm in there...all these young, punk people who totally think my mom is cool and then there's me, in my little American Eagle skirt and J.Crew top...sooooo hip and happening I tell you.
Anyways, it's time...
Mark my nose with a sharpie marker to double check placement
Analyze endlessly with my mom and Sean while they guys in the shop roll their eyes
Mark my mom's nose for fun
Okay, we're going to do it...let's do it...I'm brave, right?
Oh my...oh that hurts
Shit!
Yeah, that's stinging
God-dammit!!!
At which point all the good Christian men are taken aback, my mother is ashamed and worried about what's going to come out of my mouth next, Sean's obliviously taking pictures, and Bill-the-piercer patiently suggests...
"Let's go with G-darn, okay?"
So, it's all done...and I now have been told I have a very thick nose. I try to apologize for my heathen behavior, attempt to not to pass out for the next ten minutes, pay the "family discount" Sid gave us and a equal tip for Bill for his endless tolerance of me, and head for home...a newly pieced 30-year-old that feels just a little bit more authentic about who she wants to be.
The End
(I'll share after photos and Santa Barbara jackpot photos soon)