Things.

It’s my birthday week. I will turn 28 on Thursday.

I spent Memorial Day weekend roller skating and cleaning my apartment.

I spent $50 at CVS on cleaning supplies. That’s how gross my apartment was.

This weekend I was told, “I think you are an idiot for not wanting to be with me.” Twice.

I bought a ticket to a Turkish bath this morning.

I’m feeling incredibly melancholy and I’m not sure if it’s the guilt of the ex or the birthday blues.

Hopefully my annual party in the park this Saturday will be as awesome as prior years.

Okay, that isn’t my party. That is an anti-war sit in. It’s in the same location though.

My day job got weird. Last week I found myself folding the underwear of a 15 year old girl.

Today I work on getting quotes for a woodworking project.

I dyed my eyelashes yesterday. I’ve never done that before and I probably risked blinding myself.

I’m always surrounded by people and yet I feel lonely.

The first waxing of the season is seriously painful.

I never did finish my tattoo design. I will though. Too bad I didn’t make the deadline.

Why can’t I find black flowers? I wanted to get myself a birthday flower but bodegas don’t carry my color.

I just got a craving for a cigar. If only I were a male advertising executive in the 1950’s. Then I would already be smoking one.

That is all.

New Ink

Tattoo ink that is.

Of course I'm not putting this on me. I'm not an artist and I would never allow something that it took me 8 seconds to draw to become a permanent part of my body.

That being said...

I'm in the market for a simplistic black rose to put on the back of my neck. I have a pretty good idea of what I want to happen and I need someone else to make it come to life for me. Surprisingly enough I don't currently have any friends that are tattoo artists. I need to work on that. So as soon as I get all that figured out I'm getting my rose. Don't worry mom. You'll learn to love it.

Getting new ink always seems to come for me at a time of big change. The significance of the rose will mean more to me personally than I could ever possibly explain here. I know Dana knows what I'm talking about. Perhaps I'll tell you more when I've actually got it on my skin.

There. Now I'm committed.

If any of you have suggestions I'm all ears. Nah, I take that back. Unless you're an amazingly badass artist like BSOB ...don't scare me out of this idea. Mooog, don't bother sending me a drawing of your man bits. I only accept pictures of the real thing. That goes for the rest of you too.

Cereal and Lightning

Sorry I’m MIA so frequently. Things have been crazy. The show on Friday went well. There isn’t a whole lot to say about it except you missed out. I got free candy. No, nobody recorded anything. Sorry.

On Saturday morning Casey and I woke up and decided it was a lovely day for irreparable body damage/art. I’m talking about tattoos. This was my third one; however, you might say I’ve been under the needle four times because I had one changed a few years after it was originally done. This time around we went to a cool little place in the East Village that was recommended by a friend of mine. It had Victorian couches and really interesting/ unusual jewelry on display. It must have been the coolest parlor I’ve ever been in. Want to see what I got?


Luckily I had this picture in my sent mail. Otherwise I would have never gotten around to posting something. If you can’t tell, this is my lower back and all those odd marks are where the tape from the bandage wouldn’t come off.

So that was my Saturday day. After this I went to discuss my next show with Ava before she went in to work. We got very little done but did have a good drink. Have you ever tried port cider? Holy crap that’s good! Then I went home to get in my flapper costume for the party Saturday night. It was kind of cute I must admit. The party was a little wild and the dude who throws this annual shindig brews beer so I had some amazing pumpkin ale to boot! At some point I recall a bag of fruit loops being ripped open and dumped down my face all over the floor. Clearly we are rock stars.

I think that was the last thing worth mentioning. I’ll try to be back soon.

Ink Me

I graduated from a musical theater academy when I was nineteen years old. Just days after graduation I was lucky enough to get a call from a children's theater company asking if I could be in Philadelphia by the end of the week to do a three month tour. I packed up my stuff and got on the bus. Seven of us traveled in a giant van across the country seeing the sights and avoiding interaction with the children after shows. I have both good and bad memories of this experience. One of the best was visiting San Francisco. I love the feel of that city. Something about it makes me comfortable. If I had to leave New York, that is the first place I would want to go.
While walking down Haight street I decided to stop in at Mom's Body shop for my first Tattoo. It was something I had been talking about doing for awhile and I figured this was a somewhat momentous time in life. I payed the hot artist and he provided me with this Gemini symbol on my hip.
It didn't originally look like that. At first it was a little more girly. I remember being scared that it would really hurt but it was kind of a good pain. When we were done we went to some posh outdoor restaurant where I recall drinking the best wheat beer I have ever had in my life. I think I can thank the high adrenaline levels from scarring my body for life for that.

Days later I wanted another one but decided not to to encourage my new found addiction for awhile. Last year in March I got a new idea in my head that I became obsessed with. I really wanted an ankle tattoo of my initials. I love my name and I wanted something I could show off if I felt like it. So I went to Whatever Tattoo in NYC one day and asked the chick to hand me the font book. I was alone for that tattoo and it made me feel strong in an odd way. I had a lot going on in my head at the time regarding my own mortality and where my life was going.

A few months later, I can't remember when exactly, my mother was in town. She agreed to come to the parlor with me and Casey. He was having a lot of intricate design added to his old arm tat and I wanted to make my Gemini tat look a little... sharper. Somehow we convinced my mom to go ahead and get her cartilage pierced. We said it wouldn't hurt that bad. Turns out the guy piercing her ear was really angry about having to crawl out of bed at three pm and shove a needle in someone. He never said a word and was rather rough, and gross. Her ear never did heal so she finally took it out. Sorry mom.

Now it's time for more. But what?