Happy Friday, minions and minionettes! This has been one long-ass week. And mine was only four days long, due to my vacation on Monday. SPEAKING of which, I have MORE vacation this upcoming Monday. As most Americans do, since Martin Luther King Jr. Day is Monday, but my office will be open, because we don’t believe in holidays from January to April. But not me, Sally! I will be in pajamas until noon. VACATION!
And speaking of which, this is one action-packed weekend. Let me tell you all about it. What’s that? You don’t care? Well, I’m sure there’s some celebrity gossip blog you could be reading, Snarky McSnarkface, so hop on over to TMZ and find out what someone NON-awesome’s doing, see how that works out for you.
FIRST, tonight I will do laundry. OK, that’s not the most awesome, granted. But one needs clean clothes at some point, and I suppose it’s a good idea to have them. So laundry day must happen. Also, @lgalaviz has promised grumpy tweets tonight starting at about 7pm my time, so I’m expecting to be thoroughly entertained.
Then, tomorrow, work. Again, not all that exciting. I promise the exciting is coming.
THEN THEN THEN. I’m going to see Bebe Neuwirth in concert. OK, for those of you who don’t know who that is, here, does this ring a bell?
Yep, I’m going to see Frasier’s wife from Cheers. No, she’s not going to be performing AS Frasier’s wife from Cheers. She is actually quite an accomplished Broadway actress with an amazing voice, and the blurb about the concert says she will be “performing pop songs alongside some of the greatest Broadway hits, from Sondheim to Weill, with her signature vibrato style.” Yes, I realize this would send the normal human screaming for the door; I’m so excited I’m totally bouncing right now.
AND her big thing is animal rescue, so I love her MORE.
THEN I’m going to go home and drink a lot of magic wine to catch up with my Twitter Saturday night drinking crew, because by then I’ll be totally behind.
Then, Sunday, I’m going to see a staged reading of a Neil LaBute play, Reasons to be Pretty. If you don’t know who Neil LaBute is, shame on you SHAME I SAY, SHUN THE NONBELIEVER SHUNNNNN, because he’s one of my favorite playwrights working today. He’s dark and twisty and just a wee bit evil and I adore him, even though he’s a bit of a bastard to women in his work. (If you’re not a play reader, rent In the Company of Men and The Shape of Things, both his work. You’ll either love them or hate them. If you love them, read his plays, especially Fat Pig; if you hate them, you and I probably wouldn’t get along very well in real life, because you probably like cheery things like sunny days and wishing on shiny pennies too much.) Also I saw him do a lecture once and he was funny and intelligent and self-deprecating and I loved him more. Reasons to be Pretty is about a lot of things – relationships, fidelity, how you see yourself, how others see you, the power of words – it’s wonderful. AND some of my favorite people are in it. AND it’s pay-what-you-will. AND it’s being performed in a library. I really can’t be more excited about this.
And THEN, Monday, I have OOH AAH a vacation day, so I will be blogging up a storm, and then Monday NIGHT, I am meeting two of my favorite people, C and C (that’s confusing, that’s like C&C Music Factory, hee!) for dinner at one of my favorite local restaurants so we can catch up and have all the good times. And possibly also adult beverages. And some of the best food in town. Seriously, come to Albany, and eat at New World Bistro Bar. It will make you irrationally happy. I don’t know a single person who’s eaten there who’s left all, “Meh, whatever.”
See? That’s a weekend chock full o’goodness, right there. I know you’re totally jealous. I would be if I wasn’t me, too. It’s ok, I’ll brag all about it on here, it’ll be like you were there with me, only not there because I don’t know you, I can’t be bringing strangers around with me all willy-nilly.
OH! Yeah, I totally have a topic today. I know, way to bury the lead. Like that? It’s like I’m a newspaperman. Or woman. Or how about reporter, that’s gender-neutral.
OK, so last night I totally got that haircut I was talking about yesterday, only when I told the stylist I wanted shoulder-length she apparently thought that meant chin-length. So now I kind of look like a deranged pilgrim? But it’ll grow back. Today’s response from my co-workers has been (sorry, “co-worker,” only one said anything because no one else cares): “Hey, you got a haircut! That sure is…short!” So that wasn’t all that promising. I’d post the photo I put up on Twitter last night but the photo-hosting service that Twitter uses is blocked here at work. OH HEY. Guess what? Twitter got unblocked at work. I DON’T KNOW EITHER. It’s kind of a mystery. Why is the IT guy playing with my emotions? Whatever, don’t care, have Twitter, all’s right with the world.
Anyway, the stylist was Chatty Cathy (yeah, I don’t know if her name was Cathy, I didn’t ask) and she told me many things, like how she hates country music, and how the deli next door is run by Polish people but they’re “still really nice” (“Still?” I don’t know. Is there something about Polish people I don’t know? Also, on that topic, apparently they have EUROPEAN CHOCOLATE BARS over there. I’m so going one of these days to see if there are Flake bars. You know about Flake bars, right? Flake bars are my CRACK. I love them more than BREATHING. I love them more than PENGUINS) and also then she started talking about how she wanted to get an anchor piercing and went into very, very excruciating detail about how this is performed.
OK, so for those of you who aren’t aware, an anchor piercing looks like this (the one near her eye, not the one in her nose):
My thoughts on piercing: love it. LOVE IT. I know, I’m totally an old person? But I’m all for piercing. And tattooing. I mean, not weirdo tattooing. Not like, some of those tattoos you see that are misspelled or have weird eyes or girls with big boobs or whatever. No no no. But I think it’s your body, and you know what? You do what you want with it, babe. Thing is, THINK ABOUT IT FIRST. Don’t do it because: you just went through a breakup, you want attention, someone just died, you want to be sexy, etc. Do it after some serious thought, do it safely, and do it because it makes YOU feel good and sexy and amazing.
I’m a little more squicked out about things like scarification and such, but you know what, if you like it, you do it. It’s your thing. It’s your body.
I have piercings. They’re all totally PG, don’t be scared. My ears are pierced all up and down. I have a nose ring. I have a tongue ring which I probably should remove at some point or I’m going to be the grandma in the nursing home with the tongue ring but I adore it so yeah, I’ll be that lady, whatever. It makes my dentist yell at me, though. “You’ll RUIN your TEETH!” the dentist says. Yeah, maybe. But it’s pretty and I love it. Also, it makes The Nephew laugh. “What is that?” he asks me. “What is that ball in there?” and I say, “That’s Aunt Amy’s tongue ring, isn’t that funny?” and he laughs and laughs and touches his own tongue and I say, “Do you want one of those someday?” and he says, “NO!” and laughs and laughs some more and tells me to stick out my tongue, and I do, because I love him and, as mentioned a gajillion times, if it makes the kiddo laugh, I’ll do it.
The nose ring hurt like a son of a bitch because I did it wrong. I got it before everyone was getting them, and the chick that did it was all, “I know how to do these!” and did it WITH A BACK ON IT with AN EARRING GUN and when it swelled up (as piercings do) I thought I would die and I had to pry the back off with tweezers. But it healed eventually and I’ve had it for over fifteen years now. The tongue ring I was smarter about and had done professionally and it was only swollen for one day and healed well and bothers no one, except my parents, who never fail to say, “Maybe it’s time to take that stupid thing out now, what do you say?” and I just ignore them, because I love it, even though I’m old.
I can’t wear the nose ring at work, though. It’s “unprofessional.” And I can’t stick out my tongue when clients are around, that’s also unprofessional. Well, I’d think that sticking out one’s tongue around clients would be unprofessional, whether you had a tongue ring or not, right? Right.
ANYWAY. So the stylist was describing an anchor piercing. Which are actually kind of cool, and you can get them all over (do a search – some look better than others, though, who thought it was a good idea to get one on your ring finger like a permanent engagement ring? Hmm) but HOLY HELL getting them in and out!
See? There are two parts (the two on the left of the photo) – the one on the far left is the jewel that sits on top of your skin, and the one in the middle is what goes under your skin. You can, once it’s healed, unscrew the jewel and replace it with another, you know, to color-coordinate, or whatever, I don’t know. The one on the far right is the two pieces screwed together.
Has anyone spotted what’s making me ick, here? THAT BIG FLAT PIECE HAS TO GO UNDER YOUR SKIN.
So the tech creates a pocket with a needle or a dermal punch and then INSERTS THAT FLAT PART and then you bleed for like thirty minutes and then you have your pretty anchor piercing.
But! Here’s the fun part.
Want it removed?
IT NEEDS TO BE CUT OUT.
OF YOUR SKIN.
WITH SHARP THINGS.
Gah. Gah. Gah.
No, no thanks. I think they’re pretty, I totally do, but I want piercings that I can choose to remove on my own terms and let my body heal them up and then done, maybe just a little scar.
Also, I don’t know if this was really the conversation a stylist should be having with her client. Probably this is why my hair is so damn short and I look like a deranged pilgrim, because she was planning on getting one of these things tomorrow and she was all freaked out.
Oh, also she was telling me about some people she knew who had them and had to get them removed because they kept getting caught on things and then pulling and bleeding like shirts and dogs. I – um. No. Thanks. I think I’ll stick with what I’ve got.
I AM totally thinking of getting my next tattoo, though, which I realize I kind of waited until I was an old person to get, but I’ve been waiting for the stars to align or some such shit. Words, I think. I want words instead of art this time. Here’s the problem – I LIKE ALL THE WORDS. I have probably twenty different lines of poetry/literature I want. VERY HARD TO DECIDE. If I got them all, I’d end up the tattooed lady, which would probably not go over well considering nose rings are unprofessional here and one guy got let go a few years ago, supposedly for job-related issues, but we think it was because one day it was very hot and he took off his suitcoat and he had heretofore-unbeknownst-to-us tattoo sleeves which I loved but the people here were VERY DISTRESSED BY.
Alright. BACK TO WORK CRACK THE WHIP CRACKY NOISE. Happy weekend, everyone! May all your dreams come true, and, barring that, may you not get stabby, not even one teeny-tiny time!