As many of you know I am not known for my timeliness. In fact, it might be one of the attributing reasons why I was fired from my newspaper job in high school.
In regards to this website thingy, I feel that out of all the seconds in my life that I have, most of them are not worthy of anyone really caring to know about. But when I begin to weave a tale from my past, the oohs and ahhs that they receive tell me that I might just have really high standards on what I think is entertainment.
Oh well.
The good news is, as I look into the deepest corners of my mind, I can find a few good stories from my recent college years that could be potentially humorous.
This particular instance was when I began, and ended, the body piercing phase of my youth. Enjoy.
I knew I had always wanted to get my nose pierced, what with having a high tolerance for pain and wanting to limit the number of jobs I can apply for after college.
In my dorm there were several other girls who felt the same, so naturally they all flocked to the nearest body alteration workshop.
I, being too cool for school, waited until the hype was low and asked for a location of reference.
I should have known I was in for some fun when I learned the name... the asylum.
No wait that's not scary enough.
That's better. With a name like that you know everything is going to be alright.
I took my friend with me for good measure, although this particular person would probably lose in a match between someone who stabs people for a living. I guess anyone would unless they were made out of diamonds - but I digress.
When we reached the place, there were two workers, and the young spry fellow was quick to attend to my questions regarding minor self mutilation. It is a good thing too. The other man who was obviously on break was too busy devouring a sandwich with both hands. He caught my attention for a number of reasons. First, he had a handsome beard. A beard so prestigious, I wanted to shake its hand. the man must have known how great his beard was, because he was in a mutualistic relationship with it, where it caught the numerous crumbs that fell from the sandwich. Oh that sandwich, I'm not sure if it was cibatta bread or this guy had a bad cocaine problem, but there was an above average amount of what I assumed to be bread flour flying off of the hand held meal with every bite he administered. What didn't land in the beard found its way onto his hands.
This whole scene made me glad this other guy was here because snow hands MaGee back there was not in any sanitary condition to hygienically do the biding of piercing my nose. After my transaction, I sat for a while, at which time the clean gentlemen when on break.
From the corner of my eye I saw the post sandwiched heathen slap his hands clean of excess flour and beckon me.
Warning sign #1.
As my support group and I followed powder hands into the broom closet under repair which was soon to be the scene of a voluntary stabbing, I felt slightly less confident about by choices but still not shaken enough to turn back now - I didn't want powder hands to judge me.
It came to the moment when I needed to assume the position of sitting in the dusty chair in the middle of the room which leaned back just enough so that I could see a massive spider in the corner of the ceiling wink at me before I closed my eyes.
In regards to this website thingy, I feel that out of all the seconds in my life that I have, most of them are not worthy of anyone really caring to know about. But when I begin to weave a tale from my past, the oohs and ahhs that they receive tell me that I might just have really high standards on what I think is entertainment.
Oh well.
The good news is, as I look into the deepest corners of my mind, I can find a few good stories from my recent college years that could be potentially humorous.
This particular instance was when I began, and ended, the body piercing phase of my youth. Enjoy.
I knew I had always wanted to get my nose pierced, what with having a high tolerance for pain and wanting to limit the number of jobs I can apply for after college.
In my dorm there were several other girls who felt the same, so naturally they all flocked to the nearest body alteration workshop.
I, being too cool for school, waited until the hype was low and asked for a location of reference.
I should have known I was in for some fun when I learned the name... the asylum.
No wait that's not scary enough.
That's better. With a name like that you know everything is going to be alright.
I took my friend with me for good measure, although this particular person would probably lose in a match between someone who stabs people for a living. I guess anyone would unless they were made out of diamonds - but I digress.
When we reached the place, there were two workers, and the young spry fellow was quick to attend to my questions regarding minor self mutilation. It is a good thing too. The other man who was obviously on break was too busy devouring a sandwich with both hands. He caught my attention for a number of reasons. First, he had a handsome beard. A beard so prestigious, I wanted to shake its hand. the man must have known how great his beard was, because he was in a mutualistic relationship with it, where it caught the numerous crumbs that fell from the sandwich. Oh that sandwich, I'm not sure if it was cibatta bread or this guy had a bad cocaine problem, but there was an above average amount of what I assumed to be bread flour flying off of the hand held meal with every bite he administered. What didn't land in the beard found its way onto his hands.
This whole scene made me glad this other guy was here because snow hands MaGee back there was not in any sanitary condition to hygienically do the biding of piercing my nose. After my transaction, I sat for a while, at which time the clean gentlemen when on break.
From the corner of my eye I saw the post sandwiched heathen slap his hands clean of excess flour and beckon me.
Warning sign #1.
As my support group and I followed powder hands into the broom closet under repair which was soon to be the scene of a voluntary stabbing, I felt slightly less confident about by choices but still not shaken enough to turn back now - I didn't want powder hands to judge me.
It came to the moment when I needed to assume the position of sitting in the dusty chair in the middle of the room which leaned back just enough so that I could see a massive spider in the corner of the ceiling wink at me before I closed my eyes.
To be honest the actual assault was not as bad as I imagined mainly because my imagination is so colorful it expands past the realm of possibility so I should have known. I expected there would be some sort of full body paralysis for several hours but really it was just some localized bleeding.
After the millisecond of trauma to the left nostril my bearded host asked me if I knew how to keep the area hygienically sound over the course of its existence. Actually his diction mirrored that of Hagrid so it was more like "Y'er know how t'er clean 'er?"
After decoding this half giant spreak, I answered no at which point he threw me a plastic cup of white crystals and said "thur ya go."
Was it logical for me to think he had just tossed me a sizable amount of cocaine? Probably not. But I threw it away for good measure.
I left and realized that after looking up nose piercing care that it was just sea salt. what a gentleman.
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