All the talking about tattoos the other day got me thinking about my days hanging out with tattoo artists and those freaky types of people. That was back in Asshole’s day. Asshole was covered in tattoos and weird piercings (which I’ll get to in a minute), and like I said last Monday, his dad was a craptastic carnie tattoo artist. I got a lot of my work done when I was dating him, fortunately never by his dad, who I wouldn’t go within 50 feet of because he always looked like a molester to me.
I have 4 tattoos, none of which I’m very fond of anymore, all except for the original, the cute butterfly on my shoulder. I got it when I was 19. I also have my tongue pierced, but I never wear a barbell in it anymore. I loved getting tattoos, call me sick and twisted. I also enjoy giving blood, so maybe I just have a thing with needles and my skin. That might be why I’m rearing to get an epidural.
Eventually I want to get all my tattoos touched up and beautified so I like them better. And maybe then I’ll get a new one. I want to get one for Ryan too, since he’s always wanted one but has always been too much of a wuss to get one, even though back in the day he had more metal in his body than should be humanly allowed. He even had his bellybutton pierced. How many guys do you know that get that done?
Which brings me to the time when I pierced Asshole’s penis.
Can I tell you how much pleasure it gave me to stick a metal rod through that guy’s dick? Even when I was dating him I didn’t like him. Ok, so I didn’t actually do the piercing part. That was done by a professional, in a sterile shop environment. But since I was there and witnessed it, the guy doing the piercing, who we were friends with, asked if I wanted to do the follow through with the barbell. So I said yeah, because of the being a needle freak thing, and he stuck the piercing needle into his dick. I’m sure that none of this was very comfortable for Asshole, and really, it’s fuzzy in my mind because I’ve blocked most of that part of my life out. But when the needle went through the whole way, I met him on the opposite end of it with the barbell. As he withdrew the needle, I pushed the barbell in. Then it was like “voila! I pierced your dick!”
And that's my happy Monday story. Actually it's more like a scary Halloween story.
I decided to work today. I woke up feeling pretty good, and to be honest, I feel a lot better today than I felt all week last week. So I decided to keep earning money.
I do, however, feel kind of like a walking time bomb. I wonder why?