Being Pierced and Tattooed Does Not Make Me Trash.

I am a body piercer. Its is my career, my profession, my art, and my life. I love what I do and I love the perks that come with it. Some of these perks include being able to collect tattoos from artists who do INCREDIBLE things using skin as their canvas, collecting piercings from friends in the industry, and hanging out with a REALLY amazing bad-ass crowd of people. These artists come from all walks of life and are really human beings... just like anyone else.

Sadly however, we are not usually treated like we are humans with feelings by certain people in society. People think its ok to judge us based on our adornments that we choose to decorate our bodies with. We are viewed as hooligans, felons, criminals, punks, assholes etc. and its depressing and wrong. So very, very wrong. I happen to know someone who is highly tattooed who, with his wife, took in recovering drug addicts and helped them get back on their feet. They did it with their own time, money and home. Or what about a friend of mine who is tattooed from head to toe who did those famous 56 stars on that girls face? Remember that story on the news? I can't even begin to tell you how nice that artist is... but notice how quickly people jumped to conclusions about him when a stupid girl ran her mouth.

I know that the mass of society is judgmental as it is towards anyone in general, but some of the looks and comments I have received because of what I do to my own body have hurt my feelings and taken down how I feel about people in general... which has never been very high in the first place. It doesn't help that I live in one of the highest ranked retirement communities and I constantly interact with the elderly either. I know they come from a different time and are "old fashioned" but what the hell ever happened to "Live and Let Live"?

Its not just the elderly either. I have had lots of curious looks and questions from children. I am enchanted and happy to talk to them until their parent takes a look at me and runs in the other direction with their kid in tow. They are teaching them to be closed-minded just like they are. Its a vicious cycle and I could stand on my soap-box all day and scream until I'm blue in the face... but it will never change. We thrive on thinking we are better than others. We feel we are better than others so we judge them and feel no shame. We teach our children to shun others who are different because we are scared of what we don't understand. But just because I choose to be be a living breathing canvas for artists does not mean I am a bad person.

However, this would be a depressing post if I didn't touch base on some of the amazing people I've encountered right?

I played a "magic trick" with my septum ring on a 4 year old in Petsmart while talking to her very kind mother. Her entertainment with my ability to hide my septum ring was adorable. I had an elderly woman fall in love with my sleeve because the colors were so beautiful. I have had an insane amount of kind and polite questions on my dermal anchors and how they are done. I have had countless compliments on all of my art and it gives me a nice, warm, fuzzy feeling inside. I can see the change. I can see the acceptance starting to outshine the hate and misunderstanding... I guess I'm just impatient. I wish more people would see that this is not going away. This is part of our evolution. We can modify ourselves so we can appear outside how we feel inside... and there is nothing wrong with choosing to do so. There are police officers with ampallangs, teachers with nipple piercings, doctors with tattoos hidden low on their hips... body modification is slowly creeping up in this world and I am so happy to be a main part of the revolution.

I will hold the door open for you at the store, even if you look at me like I am a freak. I will respond to your questions about my work with kindness even if you tell me that they are ugly or I would be "so much prettier" without them. I will give random smiles to strangers and watch my sailor-mouth in front of their children because believe it or not, I have a profound sense of respect. I am NOT trash. I AM a human being with feelings and hopes and disappointments. I feel love, sadness, despair, happiness and pain. I have a voice. I am a human. Just like you.

2 Cell Phones In Six Years Makes For Vicious Phone Envy.

I got my first cell phone when I was 18. I was out on my own, I bought and paid for it myself, and I was elated. This was amazing! I could text my friends and take glorified pictures of myself and put them online! I could call anyone I wanted because the power of communication was MINE!!! I mean, it was only a little flippy-nugget phone, but I adored it. And I took excellent care of it. Such good care in fact that it lasted me three years.

And around that mark, I started to get antsy for a new phone. There were now cuter flip phones with better color options and graphics and dammit, I needed one. So I got my Katana 2. Much to my then-boyfriend-now-husband's dismay, this phone was pink as pink could be so he refused to use it ever. He finally caved and got his own phone but thats a whole 'nother story. Anyway, I now had this adorable pink thing that did everything my previous phone did only just a little better and I was happy.

And that brings us to now. In the last three years, phone technology has advanced so quickly that my poor little pink phone quickly became outdated and old... but I still hung on to it because I take damn good care of my electronics and it still did everything I needed it to. Plus I was quite broke and couldn't afford a new one. So I sat back and developed the most awful phone envy. Everyone I knew had this awesome phone that had apps and high MP cameras and FULL keyboards! FULL KEYBOARDS!!!

Finally, my cousin Nathan saved me. He works for Sprint (who has been my carrier for 6 years) and has this nifty option to add his family members to his account... which means I get to be whole-heartedly spoiled rotten! He worked his magic and a few days later, I was the over-joyed owner of a glorious HTC Evo 4G.

This phone is fucking amazing. It has two cameras. One is on the front and it is meant for self-portraits and video chat. The other camera is an 8MP double flash camera that takes some fan-freaking-tastic pictures.

It has apps. I have applications that use my camera to scan barcodes on products then search the web AND local areas for that product and its prices. I have a bank app... so I can be more financially responsible. (bwahahaha!) I have navigation apps so I never get lost ever again, horoscope apps, streaming radio stations that play music personalized to ME, soundboards from my favorite shows and movies, apps that show you every star in the sky when you point it upwards, apps that tell me what movies are playing in my local area and what time they are showing, a sound machine to fall asleep to... the possibilities are ENDLESS with this thing.

The games... omg. Have you ever played Angry Birds? If you have, you'll understand my excitement. What about Alchemy? Or how about a rousing round of scrabble with either your friends or some random person across the country that you can chat with? Hundreds of sudoku puzzles at my fingertips... word search, mahjjong, pinball, and hundreds of other crazy games to help you pass the time.

I am connected with everyone. I can check my facebook, my email, keep chat windows for each individual contact in my phone, AND talk to people on the phone WHILE I am doing other things on it.

How the hell did I ever live without this thing? My two phones before this were wonderful and may they rest in peace... but OHEMGEE I love this phone/life accessory.

Old Stinky Dog.

I'm going to write this now, because if I try tomorrow, it may very well be a jumbled mess of medicated words that make no sense whatsoever.

My mom, my sister and I have a dog named Taz. He is a cute mixture of pit bull and akita. He has pit build and face, but pointy akita ears and a curly tail. He is brindle and was dubbed "blender puppy" by my Aunt a long, long time ago.

When I say long, I mean long. Taz is going on 17 years old. His super dark sweet little face has gone white and his eyes have long since lost their clarity... and boy howdy does his breath STINK... but he is our old fart dog... Stinky... and he has always been the one man in our lives that has never hurt us. Now he is suffering and as his people, we are left with the choice that no one ever wants to make... when is the right time to let our little old man go? He is covered with bumps and lumps. His hips hurt him and give out frequently. He cannot make it outside most of the time... but he certainly tries to get to the door. (good boy.) He has lost the curl in his tail, looks confused, and is so obviously just... gone. So I guess its time...

I brought Taz home when I was in second grade. I'm pretty sure it was in January because I wanted a puppy for my birthday and he was born on Christmas. I crawled under a house to pull his fat little ass out and I carried him all the way home in my coat so he wouldn't get cold. He tore shit up. He chewed the noses off of our teddy bears. He made messes where ever he went. He was a litle terror... or at least to me he was because none of my stuffed animals were safe. I ended up moving to my Dad's shortly thereafter until I was 12, but Taz was always happy to see me when I came home to visit.

When I moved back in with my Mom, Taz was a little shit. Hell, he's always been a little shit. Just ask all of my friends who have had to chase after him as he was running down the street. He loved to run as soon as the door was opened enough for him squeeze through... and whoever let him out, had to chase him down. He also had a thing for the sock toys I would make him. Oh and shoes... while they were still attached to your feet. He would whip you right over on your ass if he was feeling playful enough. He frequently got into the garbage can, attacked the vacuum cleaner, took TEN YEARS to go to the bathroom while on walks, and would always steal your seat as soon as you got up to do something.

Taz was a real pain in the ass.

But he protected us. He is a very protective dog. I always felt safe with him around... and sometimes annoyed because he barks at everything. He is also a good companion. There are so many of our tears on that dog. Boy heartbreaks, fights with friends and family, or just a sad movie... didn't matter. Our dog was there. He shared suckers and popsicles and ate Mom's apple cores. He put up with "DANANANANA BATDOG!", scrunchies that pinched his ears together, and he let Chelsie and I wear his tail like a bracelet. He got sprayed by a skunk like THREE times!!!

God all of these memories are rolling around in my head faster than I can type. 17 years is such a long time for a dog... we are so blessed that he lived this long. But it hurts so badly to see him go. And I can't be there. Its not fair. I want to hold him and tell him it will be ok. I want to kiss his stinky face and pull on his pointy ears... but I know my Mom and my sister will be there. I know they will tell him how much I love him... funny thing is, I'm pretty sure he knows already.

I love you Taz. I am going to miss you so fucking much. Thank you for being the best dog in the world. Because you really are... and you always will be... the best dog in the world.

Self-Reflection Time. Oh Goody.

I am full of inspiration lately. I have had some awesome ideas just pouring out of my brain and one of them just happens to be about me.

Let's start with the obvious: I am a total spazoid. I find myself excited by the smallest things and I'm not ashamed to let anyone in my general vicinity know about it. Doesn't matter if you are the person behind me in the line at the grocery store and I found the most amazing bag of fresh mushrooms on sale or if you are one of my clients sitting on our piercing table thats actually a gyno table from the 60's, I will tell you all about it with gusto. I am what many would call a "happy person".

I am also quite tickled by large events in my life. Concerts are a major one. I will remind my friends and co-workers weeks ahead of time that there is a show coming up and I am VERY excited about it. If there is a trip coming up, I focus on nothing else... but I pack the night before I leave because I truly am just weird like that.

I am, however, easily frustrated. I definitely have some anger issues which confuses me greatly. How can such a happy person become such an angry person? My hair is one thing that brings out my inner monster. I can't ever do anything cool with it. I see all of these girls with curls and bumps and froofy shit going on on their heads and I CAN'T accomplish it. And if I try and fail (which 9 times out of 10 I do) then my whole day is completely ruined by my lack of hair style savvy.

Driving is another thing that instantly rubs me the wrong way. I live in Arizona. There are an amazing amount of retirement communities here and we get an astounding amount of snowbirds too. Some of them drive like a bat out of hell and others drive like snail shit. Its extremely frustrating as I have a 16 mile drive and it takes me 40 minutes to get there because I have to drive through a sea of idiot drivers. I frequently can be seen at stop lights screaming my fool head off at the bonehead in front of me... or to either side... or behind me. But I'm not biased here. I have had many a run in with young drivers and they are just a flippin' stupid as the old dude in front of them.

Arizona is FULL of stupid drivers.

But lets stay positive here. I am an optimist. I try really hard to just find the silver lining of any situation and be happy that its not worse. I hate dwelling on the past as its nothing I can change, I can only learn from it so thats what I choose to do. I have a past that I am not proud of... but I LEARNED from it and I have not repeated my mistakes. Thats the important part. And I am grateful for all of my friends and family who put up with my neurotic behavior. The hair color, the body mods, the random angry outbursts and hormonal cry-fests.... they take it all and somehow they still love me. I don't get it, but I've learned not to question it because that just gets me yelled at.

And I hate getting yelled at.

So there. I told you if you wanted to know more about me to just keep reading my blog. See? I am holding up my end of the bargain. I rock. ^_^

Your Duckface Sucks. Knock It Off.

In the last year or so, there has been an alarming increase of "duckface" pictures on the interwebz. You know the ones... where the person looks like they just sucked on a rank lemon wedge or got punched by Andre The Giant in their pooper? Mmhmm... those people are either blind or stupid.

I'm betting on the latter.

Are they really so fucking full of themselves that they think pursing their lips makes them "sexy"? YES! I'm going to paint the whole area around my eyes black, spray paint myself orange, throw some super shimmery white lipstick on my lips and pinch those babies up so they look like they belong on a 90 year old woman and BAM! I'm sexy as hell.

Ok, maybe they are blind.

This epidemic is spreading through the masses of males in our society as well. But why? Are men really starting to cross over into being women? Given the plague of skin tight, bright colored clothing items, eyeliner, and giant sparkly hoop earrings that they have started to wear, I'm thinking so. Making a duckface while you take a picture of yourself in your bathroom with your smartphone doesn't make you cool dude... it makes you look gay. Like literally homosexual. (Which I do NOT have any issue with... unless you are NOT gay but you LOOK gay... then you just look dumb on top of everything else).

Oh.My.GAWD. I just pulled that little gem of a picture off Google Images and honestly... I can't stop laughing. Good grief, give it 50 years and there will be no more gender identification.  Everyone will look the same with that god awful duckface and the only way you will be able to tell is by actually looking at their naked crotch. Of course, given the theory of evolution, I'm sure in the next hundred years or so, the penis will slowly begin to creep back up into the body, dragging the testicles with it... thus exterminating human life on this planet. So stop being so damn girlie boys... or you're going to kill off mankind. Do you want that kind of blood on your hands? I don't think you do.

I got a little off subject here. Duckface. Yes. Its disgusting. Its vile. It makes you look absolutely fucking RIDICULOUS.

STOP IT.

STOP IT RIGHT NOW.

STOP junking up our already junked-up internet with pictures of yourself that you think look sexy when really you just look like a surprised stroke victim.

And if you are one of my friends and you have a duckface picture (or more than one) you had better remove it. Because I will find it. And I will make fun of you for it. I will badger you until you remove it. And you will thank me for saving you. Consider yourself warned.

This is war people. Whose side are you on?

 (DAMMIT! KNOCK THAT SHIT OFF!!!)

Dammit Dog, Shut Up!!!

I know you have all had that neighbor with the dog (or worse, DOGS) that barks incessantly right? I'm not the only one to experience this outright rude phenomenon right?

Right?

Yeah. Our neighbors have TWO dogs and if they are outside and a LEAF blows across the yard, they freak out. Doesn't matter the time of day or what the supposed disruption is in their tiny little lives, they have to tell the whole fucking world about it. Guess what dogs? I don't care. I don't care that the bird is eating your food. I don't care that a car drove by. I don't care that someone walked by either. I don't care that your other furry idiot dog-friend just took a shit...I DON'T CARE.

And this makes me wonder... are their owners deaf? I know damn well if I can hear them in our house, they can certainly hear them in theirs. Do they just turn up the tv? How on earth do they sleep through that shit? I mean honestly, do they ever stop to think about their poor neighbors who are subjected to listening to their schizophrenic pooches? I know it makes ME want to tear out my hair when all I hear for the better part of an hour is "YIP! YIP! BARK!! RUFF! YIPYIPYIP!"... so why, I ask, does it not do the same for them? I know DAMN well they hear their freaking dogs... but they do nothing about it. Thats just rude. Really, really, really rude.

Apparently, they make this birdhouse with a sonic thingy inside of it. You set it up close to your neighbors yard, and when the dog starts to bark, its sets off the sonic thing and shuts the dog up. I may have to invest in one of these because honestly, I'm ready to march into that yard and punt those obnoxious little canine twats all over their yard.

Or I'll just stand in our backyard at 3 am and start barking like a maniac every night until they get the hint. It will be cheaper... and possibly more effective. Hell, maybe my roommate's dog Sydney will join in too.

(EDIT: This morning that fucking dog started up at 6:00 am... and continued until who knows when. Thank god for ear plugs.)

I Drugged My Little Sister

Being an older sister is quite the adventure. Even more so when you have a single mom who works nights and you just so happen to be old enough to watch your kid sister while she is at work. Chaos ensued more often than not and made for some really interesting nights.

One such instance was when I was forced to drug my sister to get her to sleep. I had been trying for two hours, it was 10:30 at night, and my 15 year old mind was desperate. She was running all over the house like a tiny little blonde crack child. I noticed the bottle of Benadryl sitting on the bathroom counter and it hit me... those tiny pink pills make you tired. I know that I personally zonk out for a good four hours after I take one... so half would be fine for my sister.

But how to administer such a thing?

At 7 years old, there was no way she was just going to swallow a pill that I had given her. I mean, I tried. But she absolutely refused. She knew what I was trying to do and there was NO way she was going to miss out on torturing me and possibly getting me into trouble by "allowing" her to stay up late. I needed to be sneaky. I needed to be...

NINJA.

So, I took the half of the little pink pill and I crushed it to bits using the bottle. Then I pulled out a slice of the no-bake cheesecake that I had made earlier, cleverly scooped the strawberry topping off and sprinkled this "sleep powder" all over the cheese cake. I placed the strawberry topping back over the cheesecake and tempted my bouncing sister off the living room couch into the dining room to eat what would presumably knock her obnoxious little ass out.

"It tastes funny." she said... but, as any 7 year old will do, she inhaled the whole thing. And conked out 25 minutes later. Granted, it was now almost 11:30, but it accomplished what I couldn't. Gotta love those pills.

I was the master at revenge too. I have duct taped my sister up completely and left her there on the floor for 10 minutes while I stepped outside. She genuinely thought I had left her and was completely panicked when I came back in. I have dumped ice water all over her when she was being a complete brat. I fed her a vomit flavored jelly bean and told her it was tutti frutti. She fell for lots of food pranks.

I have also scared the hell out of her numerous times. My favorite time however was one night when she herself was 12. She had a friend over for the night and my mom was working a little late so she asked me to drive out and check on her and her little friend. We lived in a double wide (haha) out in the country on a few acres so it was dark and quiet and the perfect time to terrorize her.

I had some one with me (though I cannot remember who) and we decided on the way over that we were going to park a bit away from the drive way and sneak up to the house on foot to bang on the window. But as we were sneaking up, I realized that we could just bang on the walls and it would resonate through the whole house. So thats what we did. My friend went to the back and starting BEATING the walls with their fists... and when I joined in, it sounded downright terrifying. We stopped for a second and listened. My sister and her friend were screaming inside. Oh, they were scared. So we continued to beat on the walls, walking a full circle around the house until I finally decided that we needed to go in and make sure they hadn't keeled over and died.

My sister and her friend had barricaded themselves in her room and were both brandishing butcher knives in the air as I pushed open the door. I was laughing so hard I nearly peed myself.

I think I may have scarred her for life. ^_^

(P.S. please do not think I am evil. My little sister was a complete butthead and most things I did to her were for retaliation purposes only and not just to pick on her. That being said, I love you Snotrag) :)