I took off work on Friday to go to a job interview. I’m thinking about switching from Checker’s to Wendy’s. Better benefits. More money. Ha. Ha. Anyway, I thought the interview went pretty good. Got to wait on requirements from the customer to see how much they are offering. Wish me luck.
That night I went to Ascension for the goth night. Did not have a good time. Ms. Bat and some other person was the DJ. Couldn’t tell if it was a guy or a girl. I don’t know. Whatever they were playing, I couldn’t get into it. Ms. Bat played a more industrial set but I wasn’t really dressed to dance to industrial. I’ve always found it to be retarded when girls dress up in all their lace and stilettos and try to stomp around to heavy music. Or when they come out in miniskirts and try to appear sexy while dancing to Cry For Mother.
Anyway, I had Dennis to keep me company, the weirdo I met at the last Danse Macabre I went to. He may be a weirdo, but he is somewhat entertaining. I think he just may be the only person I would bother to speak to in public. He makes me laugh with his randomness and off the wall bantering philosophy. I think he thinks I have issues, but then again, I do. He was talking about getting into a serious relationship again, and it made me wonder what kind of person comes to a club and tells a complete stranger that you are ready for a serious relationship.
I left after that. I was annoyed that I did not expend any calories and that I got all dressed up for nothing.
I began Saturday in a very bitchy mood. I dislike having my routine interrupted. Friday nights I stay up all night from clubbing and watching episodes of Law and Order that I recorded all week. I get up on Saturday morning around 830ish, go to yoga class and then step class. Afterwards, I may go to my part time job or go shopping, depending on the status of my bank account.
Saturday mornings do not include waking up at 7 and driving 50 miles down into Virginia to attend some gay ass ethics class. I missed yoga and step and I was really pissed about that. Gas is 3.99 a gallon and I had to drive 50 miles to Lorton, Virginia for an ethics class that I could have watched on the internet. I don’t know my way around Virginia and I got lost and I was pissed. By the time I arrived at the gay ass class, I was ready to just go home and say to hell with my part-time job.
I am thinking the class is going to be hands-on, interactive type shit where they make us role play. No, we sat there and watched a video. Okay, why can’t you upload this on to the internet? Why did you make me waste a 1/8 tank of gas to come down here? And another 1/8 tank to get home. The man who showed us the video was unnecessarily long-winded by recapping the video once it ended. Okay, we just watched the fucking video, I don’t need you to give me a synopsis. And then I thought well maybe they are going to make us take a test. Yeah right. He said, “have some lunch with us and thank you for coming.” Fuck lunch.
And then there was goddamn traffick coming back home. I had planned to go in and put in some hours, but they wasted 4 hours of my day with that bullshit.
That night I went to Sheontay’s tattoo party. I had originally really wanted to go but after the whole Lorton, VA thing, I didn’t want to go but I said I would and I usually keep my word. I had no intention of getting a tattoo when I got there, but everybody else was getting one so I wanted to as well. Sheontay and I went down the street to an ATM and I decided that I wanted these Japanese orchids. You know I’m obsessed with the entire Japanese culture.
Let me just tell you that getting a tattoo on your foot hurts like a bitch. The problem is that I have a very small, slender, bony ass foot. No fat or any kind of padding. Then I wanted a full colour work up. When he was doing the outline, I almost punked out because it was like he was tattooing into my brain or something. I could feel every little prick of the needle. By the time he started shading in the colour, I lost feeling in my toes. I was trying to stay strong, but I was about to lose it.
It took about 30 minutes. I had planned to get another small butterfly to compliment the one I already have, but I couldn’t take anymore. I took my ass home, but first I had to stop at CVS to get some A&D. I couldn’t put my shoe on because my foot was swollen, and I could hardly walk. This old lady was like, “Oh my God, what happened!!” I told her I got a tattoo and she wanted to see it and then she was like, “You brave, brave girl.” All right, grandma.
Then I went next door to get something to eat. I wasn’t wearing a shoe, but I had my foot wrapped in Saran wrap, and why did the girl really try to not let me come in? She was like, “You don’t have your shoe on.” Yeah, but my foot is covered, even if it is plastic. It’s not like I’m about to put my foot into your buffet. She was really dead serious. I was holding my shoe and I put it on the ground and put my foot on top of it and slid it across the floor, making this really annoying noise and causing streaks on their linoleum. She gave me a dirty look. Okay, bitch if you weren’t trying to make a big deal, you wouldn’t have to scrub out the streaks from my slingbacks.
But this is what nastiness gets you. I got home. I wanted to clean it a little more and put another thing of Saran on it. The box was on top of the fridge and I dropped that shit right on top of my foot. I was locked into infinite pain for about 15 seconds. You know the type of shit where you just stand still and try not to scream your head off? Yeah…
I hadn’t planned on going to Midnight that night because they were going to have a band and I don’t do bands, especially local bands. I hate the crowd standing around, the lack of dance floor space because of the band equipment, and I generally just don’t like live music.
It didn’t matter anyway because as soon as I sat down, I was down for the count. My foot hurt so bad it was unbelievable. I couldn’t even sleep. The next day that shit was so swollen and irritated. It’s not infected, it’s just scar tissue trying to heal.
When I got to work today, I could walk but I’m limping. Everyone was like, “Oh my god, are you okay?”
But for real, the tattoo looks really good. It’s two Japanese orchids, pink, purple and red. My signature colours. Once my foot goes back to its normal size 6, it’s going to look hot in a pair of Kenneth Cole sandals.
I think I’m going to use this guy to work on my sleeve. I plan on having my right leg sleeved by the end of the summer. I love tattoos. Thanks Sheontay for inviting me.