adventures in dead

So yeah? Blood loss? I got that. Not good.*
As I write this, a large portion of my upper half is covered in blood soaked bandages. And no, it was not a gruesome tractor accident. In an ongoing effort to make myself more beautiful, I got stage 2 of my tattoo done today. So now instead of a black outline, I have green leaves. The flowers, well they are still black outlines.

Why? you may ask. Why? Because apparently I enjoy torture. Oh and also I bleed. A lot. Like so much that the artist has to stop inking and apply pressure to my neck with a cloth. And when she moves on to another part, the blood 1) ruins the freshly inked colors and 2) drips down my arm / back / chest. Then she has to go back over the same spot again because all the bleeding pushed out all the color. Fun right? Another 2 & 1/2 hours under the gun and it's still not finished. But towards the end there, I was like I don't even care. I'll come back. Just stop this painful process (which included the soapy water that she used to wipe all the blood away which stung so much I think it hurt more than the inking).

You know what? Writing this is making me ill. Plus I haven't eaten since I finished, other than a grilled cheese from the automat. You remember that I love the automat right? Well I love it even more now because while my no-blood-addled brain tried to figure out the conundrum of what to do with my $5 bill when the quarters machine was broken and I didn't want to carry around 3 dollar-coins (I didn't want to carry around 12 quarters either, but that didn't occur to me til later) the nice Japanese boy at the counter was like, I can give you change! And I was like Yay! Thank you for saving me. Anyway, Chinese food is en route to mi casa, so soon I will have sustenance, rest assured.

On the way to my expensive blood letting, I had 2 things of note. The first was that a guy on the train trying really hard to be P Diddy had his fly open. And he had no idea. I think I'm the only one that noticed, but I'm not sure as to why I noticed in the first place. I was going to do the polite thing and tell him, but I couldn't just yell, hey guy , zip the fly! And I couldn't make eye contact, look at his crotch, and give him the nod, because I'm absolutely certain that would be taken the wrong way. So I gave up on telling him and just laughed at how ridiculous it was that Mr. Expensive Glasses, Matching Sneakers, and Designer Clothes was also Mr. Hey Look At My Weiner.

Then walking up 2nd Avenue, a guy carried an uncovered bucket of water on his shoulder. Then he dropped the bucket, which should have been no surprise, given the way it was carried. The shock came when suddenly both my legs from the knee down were covered in cold water on an only slightly warmer than freezing day. Oh and jeans don't dry very quickly, even under the best of circumstances. So I said a few choice words to Mr. I Drop Buckets All Day and continued on my freezing way to get colored.

So yeah. That was my day. I'll get around to posting pictures of my pretty leaves soon, but definitely not yet because they are far less pretty when soaked in my own blood. (I think that could be said for anything, though.)




* It's kinda like I'm drunk, so if my words make no sense, you know. I have edited it down for saneness too, but if I missed something, bear with me.