Today is good. But unexciting. Nothing awesome or brain melty has happened. Nope. Na-da. Absolutely nothing. Nothing to see here, officer, move along.
So, I don't know if anyone noticed that loud noise a few minutes ago. May or may not've sounded like an explosion. Oh you did?
Well. I can explain that.
IT WAS THE SOUND OF MY SKULL SHATTERING AND MY GREY MATTER FLINGING ITSELF EXCITEDLY TO ALL CORNERS OF THE ROOM IN WHICH I CURRENTLY RESIDE.
Not that I'm excited or anything, but you should click this link here. Then come back to me.
Kay. Go back to here. Scroll down until you see "Coming Next Month". Now look for the title "Standing Room Only". Listen to the sound of my skull shattering again.
Standing Room Only is a book. It's a book I wrote. It's a book I wrote that was picked up by a publisher. There goes my skull again.
You need a more visual explanation of my intense excitement?
Hows this?
Right. Good? Good. I feel better now. My skull has reassembled itself as well, thanks for worrying.
So. Today is a good day. Unless you google nuclear warefare. Then the day gets a little bad.
Not the point.
My point today is about tattoos.
I want a tattoo. It's no secret. I want a monarch butterfly on my left forarm, with a meaning that's much too long winded to write here.
Monarchs are thought to be the souls of the dead in Mexico because the monarchs always migrate back to Mexico right around the annual "Day of the Dead" celebration.
Okay, not so long winded. Moving on.
Why is it that whenever you mention that you're getting a tattoo to someone, they insist on detailing just how much agony you'll be in for the duration of your appointment?
It's like telling someone who just got accepted into university, "Oh, you're gonna be in school for the next four years."
Or, like telling someone you need to get a filling and they answer, "Oh, they're gonna drill your tooth and fill it with cool metal stuff".
Oh my GOD. I had no IDEA that university would include four or more years of schooling. Thank GOD you told me in the nick of time so I can change my mind!
Then there's the people who laugh and say that I'll be wearing leather and riding a Harley in two years, simply because I got a butterfly carved into my skin. Those are the people that I kick in the face, which is really difficult, because I'm not very tall.
Lastly, there are the people whose faces pucker as if they'd just started peeing wasabe.
Side note: Who likes wasabi? I tasted it once, and immediately did this
Not the point, geez.
Puckery people. They're the ones that immediately assume I will never get a job outside shoveling manure or prostitution becuase I have a tattoo. I have a sneaking suspicion these are also the people who deny global warming and think that Dr. Phil is actually a doctor. Psh. Aw.
So. My message to you? Go get inked. And when someone informs you that it'll hurt, you should tell them that the sun is a great big ball of radiation, and that when it explodes, you'll be hoping the first piece of flaming chunk-o-sun lands on their house.
Love,
Megan
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