Already Forgotten

Here it is. People are assholes. Also they are vultures, and have with them screaming babies and shitty attitudes and inflated senses of entitlement. What the fuck? I'm working at a massive corporate bookstore that is going under and as I work on this sinking ship in it's last few week(s) of life, you really see the underbelly of retail and consumerism. "I'm so sorry you are closing and losing your job along with 20 other people also hey do you know when things will be 45% off instead of 40% because I could get these cheaper online."

Me: "So go fucking get them online. We don't give a shit lady, we are headed for the unemployment line."

Customer: *Looks at my manager standing directly behind me*

Manager: *Shrugs, walks off*

Me: *GIANT SMILE* "HAVE A GOOD DAY!"

That's one of the least volatile encounters I have had, including flipping off a customer in front of two managers. People are just fuckin assholes. Some people are cool, they just come in, buy something, acknowledge you, and leave. Some people come in dragging their yelling crying asshole infants with them, all full of attitude, demanding and laying down ultimatums. Where they go wrong is assuming we actually give a shit about anything anymore. We've all been layed off. Everybody. It just hasn't kicked in yet (give it a week and a half). Nobody gives more then a minimal fuck about anything in the store. If you treat us poorly, we won't be kicked around, we won't take it like dumb corporate drone sheep clerks. We are just putting in time now. If you are a dick to us, we will absolutely be a dick to you. I will not tolerate your idiocy or your hamfisted douchebag approach to what should just be a simple transaction.

Thanks to all the people out there who have been cool during the insanity and unpredictability of this bankruptcy situation, and a big middle finger to everybody who apparently wasn't raised with any manners. You insensitive bastards.

Other news I'm stoked to be done working soon. I'm glad my birthday is coming up (I didn't die this year!). I'm glad I have some true and loyal friends to get my back. I'm irrationally excited that I was retweeted by Lisa Lampanelli (LOVE HER). I'm excited to get back to Bend, and I'm excited to go through the next month and a half here in the Rocky Fuckin Mountains. I'm glad I'm me.

Post's done.

So sorry to everyone that I haven't put anything new up. And by everyone I mean my sister. Hi Erin. SO. Not an entirely impressive report to make I'm afraid. Work at the ol' corporate bookstore is winding down and life as an employed contributing member of society will soon be a thing of the past. In the meantime, more time to ski. Or whatever. The skiing has been great, I'd like to write up a whole post just talking about it, but I'm just kind of maybe possibly getting to the point where I'm like fuck this snow, give me some sunshine! Anyways there will be plenty of time still for sunshine, we leave here end of April for Bend, and oh how it will be good to be back. It's been an amazing goddamn winter that I'll never forget (except the nights I never remembered), but it'll just be nice to see 'home' again. Go to our bars, tip our bartenders, pick up on our girls (or your girls), talk to our friends.

Addendum. Things I'm really into right now, Charlie Sheen and everything he says or does, being a bigger asshole to asshole customers in front of my manager with total freedom, Donettes, going to bed.

Tattoo Rants

As someone who is heavily tattooed I apparently fit into some sort of sub genre of human according to a certain set of people. To me getting tattooed is a way of life. It's something I've been fascinated by since I was a little kid and saw my first set of sleeves. My tiny brain couldn't quite comprehend exactly what I was looking at, or how it was possible, but I knew I wanted some of those. I started getting tattooed when I was 18, and in a couple weeks I'll be 25. I've come a long way since that first tattoo, my one color piece, a sacred heart on my back with a banner reading 'Veritas', Latin for 'truth'. Over the years I've built my tattoo collection in different states with different artists on all different parts of my body. Currently I have two nearly finished sleeves, an LA on one ankle as a memento to living there, and a full chest piece I plan on expanding into a full torso piece. I want to get to a position in life where I'm financially and jobwise set to where I can tattoo my neck and my hands. Each and every single tattoo I have I remember the needle hitting my skin, I remember where I was and who I was with and where I was in life. They are milestones and markers that for me, I display on my body, permanently and proudly.

I get that it's not for everyone. For some people they will never get a tattoo and never be missing out on anything in their lives, completely fulfilled in the skin they came into this world in. Some people just get one, or two, or several small pieces throughout their lives. Some people take it an entirely different level and tattoo their heads and faces, their eyelids. All of these are perfectly acceptable for the people who's choices they are. That's what they are, individuals making choices, choices that nobody else can judge or be party to, because what's displayed on my body or anybody else's is mine and their own damn business, respectively. I've had very visible tattoos for a few years now, and I'm used to the looks, the comments, the questions. When they come from somebody who is actually interested in tattoos, or wants to discuss where mine where done, by whom, or just to compliment my art, then all is good in jolly old. It's the people who look down their noses at you and ask snotty questions about how much money you must have wasted on that and why would you put yourself through that pain and my personal favorite 'You know those are going to be there forever right?' No you stupid asshole I've spent thousands of dollars and probably a hundred plus hours of discomfort and they DON'T WASH OFF??!?! Oh my God I've been had! I'm used to that kind of ignorant BS, like the guy who asked me if I had 'all them things' (my sleeves) so that if ya ever get decapitated you can be identified', but it more then makes up for it when somebody just comes up to you out of the blue and says 'Hey I like your tattoos.' It makes me feel good. It makes me proud to be displaying such quality work, and I have no problem spending twenty minutes pointing out who did what and how they are done in such differing styles from artist to artist. How my left sleeve is done in a ridiculously detailed black and grey shading, how you can tell the artist (Tom Clark, Fullerton CA) has been around a long time and has honed his craft and has worked to become very good. How my right sleeve is done in sweeping bold art (Nick Pulzone, Salem OR), an in your face style by probably the most natural artist I've ever met, that asserts itself and is not only incredibly well executed but aesthetically pleasing in every way. How my chest was done in one single sitting at the Portland Tattoo Expo (Nick) in front of hundreds of people, six hours straight made possible by large doses of percocet and intermittent cigarette breaks.

The interesting thing is, I HATE getting tattooed. It fuckin hurts. Some people will tell you it's just a warm tingling feeling, or that they like it. I can absolutely believe liking the rush of a new tattoo, but the actual process of applying said tattoo is never going to be something I like. I love my tattoos though, I love my friends tattoos, I love looking at and talking about tattoos. Thats something I'll never apologize for and I'll never change. Getting tattooed until I die or run out of space, and to the people who can't except that or who think they can judge what I do, well you know where you can go.



It was hell. In case you were wondering. See me for directions, I've vacationed there from time to time.