put your shirt back on

My life at the moment:

- Dodging residents and their problems, because I haven't the fucking time or the patience
- Swamped with one damn project after another
- Counting the days till I can turn off my phone and peace out for three uninterrupted days of turkey and free laundry
- Counting down the days until this fucking semester is over
- Wasting my life and/or free time playing the crack cocaine that is Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. Sweet Jesus, that game is a sickness. Save yourselves.
- Getting accidentally married in said Skyrim. Yeah, idk.
- Rug burn
- That niggling feeling in the back of your skull that says that you're forgetting to do something, but you just can't figure out what it is.
- Fucking residents need to put on their big girl panties and deal. with. it.
- Had a cool story idea for the first time in... yeeeeah, cue the shame.


ANYWAY.

Oh, October. You so crazy.

Last summer, I lived on McDonald's and Mike's Harder Lemonade. The summer before that, I lived on pizza and mango rum. And now, I am skinnier than ever and can somehow still bleed like a stuck pig for a solid week.


Blagh.

So, I'm shaving my head today.

Mostly it's for the costume. But its also because its something I've never done, before, and I have always wanted to. I hate my hair and try to do as little with it as possible, outside of dying it freaky colors. The only reason I haven't done it, before, is because my mother would FLIP.

Of course, she flipped when I got a tattoo. (in her head. I could hear it...) So that deterrent is losing its hold.

Plus, this shit will grow back. It is not permanent.

SO LET'S DO THIS.

Holy Mary, mother of God, I am out of ramen. How does that even happen?

Living alone is awesome. Do you know why living alone is awesome?

Living alone is awesome because I get to sit in front of my computer in just my underwear, blast loud music, and not do my dishes until I damn well feel like it.

That is why living alone is awesome.

Carry on.

Heh. So, my weekend was one of many firsts.

The First First- My coworkers and friends went out to a club for college night last Thursday. I love dancing, whatever the occasion, so I was all over that. And, honestly, I never intend to find others to dance with. I am content on my own.

Except this time I ended up dancing with a guy that was later dubbed The Vampire Squid.

He asked me to dance, I agreed, we danced, and then the next thing I know, Vampire Squid is sucking and chewing on my neck like there was a candy center. I find this ticklish and hilarious and sort of enjoy myself, because apparently the neck-as-an-erogenous-zone trope is not a myth. Ears, however, I'm not so sure. Pretty sure I'm chalking that one up to 'weird'.

Anyway, the only issue I had with the whole thing is when I got back to my room and realized that I had several monsterous bruises in the shape of teeth on either side of my neck.

Now, I knew going in that hickies happen. But it was not until then that I realized that, the very next day, I would end up wearing my first ever set of hickies and looking my mother in the eye at the same time.

In desperation, I texted my wife, who advised concealer that I do not own. Upon my arrival at my parent's house, she hustled me indoors and did what she could with what we had.

My mother hugs me on sight, kisses my cheek, and says, "What's that on your neck?"

facePALM

So, my cover story = Vampire Squid, or Squid for short.

Who did not get my number because, yeah.


First the Second- I got my tattoo!

I got my tattoo, I got my tattoo, I got my tattoo!!!!!

I am so excited and I love the damn thing so much, it makes me happy just looking at it.

I was pretty proud of myself during the process, too. I was completely calm during the entire setup process and only had a small twinge of nervousness when I volunteered to get my ink, first. The guy was the strong, silent type, but he put up with my nit-picking the position and angle of the design and quoted a price just inside my limit.

I was surprised when he first put the needle on my skin, because it didn't hurt nearly as much as I feared. However, it did hurt. In some places, it hurt a bunch. I got it on my hip, which is a sensitive area, and there are parts of the design directly over the bone. But I am calling bullshit on all those folks who swear that the endorphins kick in during the process. It hurt the whole way through. So there.

It was not painful, however, when the needle was not on my skin. In fact, I haven't had any pain at all, other than some soreness in my abdominal muscles (from tensing up, I guess). I also did not bleed, so I'm going to give the artist major props for a job well done.

The design looks amazing and the moment I looked at the finished product, I started grinning.

The only hiccup I had in my day was when I was dabbing it off last night and noticed that there were splotches of color on the towel, and the black of the outlines was blurring on my skin. I nearly started crying until I desperately texted my tattooed friends and assaulted Google, who all assured me that this was normal for the first day or two. Sure enough, once I was done cleaning it off, the blurry black was gone and the design was as crisp as before.

I know it isn't going to stay this way, especially as this is pretty much where my jeans sit, but I like the fact that I can see it and hide it, easily.

My dad also gave me a thumbs-up on the design, so that was pretty cool, too. My mom just shook her head and fed me, so I count that as a win, as well.

\o/ WEEKEND

So, I quit Facebook for Lent. Because of this, my dear, dear friends took it upon themselves to blow up my account in my absence, so I would have a multitude of notifications to wade through upon my return.

Except that Facebook seems to have adopted the 'less is more' policy. If a bunch of people comment upon, say, a photo of mine, all of the comments are consolidated into one notification.

So, how many notifications did I find on my page?

39.

Not even one a day.

Weak.


XD Happy Easter.

Always knew I was a follower at heart.

Due to all of the cool kids doing it and the fact that Livejournal seems to spend more time crashing than it does blogging, I'm moving my ass mostly over to Dreamwidth, found here. (They gave me an account during their big push to open, and I have henceforth neglected it. BUT! I do have 2 invite codes, for any who might want them.)

I will still crosspost for the giggles.

So, yeah. Pop tarts.

Retro hypothetical query:

Does anyone remember the old (and I mean OLD) Mortal Kombat games? The standard side-scrolling fighting games where you just beat the shit out of someone, usually breaking every rule of reality (up to and including the fourth wall) to do so?

Remember how hard it was to get those god damn fatalities to work? LONG BEFORE PEOPLE REALIZED THAT GAMERS = SCHOOL SHOOTERS, THEY WERE CENSORING US.

Jesus, I remember screaming at my Playstation because I could not figure out if it wanted me to hit up and down simultaneously or one at a time, just so I could see Scorpion rip someone's spine out.

Perhaps a case-and-point scenario, but that shit was frustrating!