Today's local celebrity.

Wednesday was an excruciatingly long day. I had to get up at seven, get myself all prettied up for the television crew, and trek up to Vince and Laura's on my scooter by 8:30 to prepare for their arrival at 10. Vince ordered these two big bell-shaped signs with a photo from "It's a Wonderful Life" that read, "Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings". We put mounted one of those bad boys on the boat, along with one of the Silver On the Mount Tattoo banners, and a sign that reads, "YOU ARE NOW IN BEDFORD FALLS"(those have been lots of fun - we had originally attempted to spell it out in rope lighting, but got as far as "YOU ARE NOW IN BED" before we ran out. Of course, I appreciated that particular sentiment a great deal more).

The news crew arrived at 10 - a cameraman with a ponytail and a Hawaiian shirt, followed by an attractive young newswoman. Of couse, the boys took note of this - I had to smack Mike for humping the air behind the reporter as she walked into the backyard. This is why they keep me around - to keep the boys in line(and to correct their spelling - they hate it when I do that. I actually give them vocabulary words from time to time. Yes, I'm a nerd). They first interviewed Vince. He told them that the theme was "Magical Movie Moments", and this was the most magical moment he could think of. He then suggested that they interview one of the crew from the shop. As soon as I heard that, I knew it was going to fall on me. I constantly have to correct Adam's grammar, and Mike...I don't think interviewing him and his morning wood would have been such a good idea. Instead, they stood in the background with screwdrivers and pliers pretending to work on a sign, and I did the interview. After the fact, I commented on how I had to do all the work while they hid in back and screwed. That's men for you.

Anyway, they asked some pretty general questions - how many people are working on the boat, how much more work is there to do, etc. I didn't answer quite how I would have liked - I was nervous. It's to be expected. It's just as well - they used about five seconds of my interview in the actual news segment. Basically, what they got from me was, "We've still got a little ways to go, but we've got some time left, and we're going to make this as nice as possible". I found our spot on the station's website(if you go to the Top Videos section, it's listed as "Winterfest Boat Parade").

Apparently, a whole lot of people have seen it, and for some reason, everyone has been commenting on me. As soon as I got into work this morning, the phone rang. I answered it, and the woman asked a question about piercings, and then said, "Are you the girl I saw on the news last night? You're the little redhead, right?" Shortly thereafter, I called Laura to tell her Mike hadn't shown up yet(Mike's vocabulary word of the day - "punctuality"), and she told me a lady she met at jury duty had made the same comment. After we opened, I went outside to sweep, and a lady came up to me and said, "Every time I turn around, I see you on TV!" It was a pretty cool feeling, I have to admit. And hey, it's great publicity for the shop. We could use that right about now.

Thoughts on Christmas, publicity, and another day at the office.

Well, this past Sunday, The Dave Barry Holiday Gift Guide
was published in The Miami Herald. On the front page, this photo, taken on one of the luxurious pleather couches at Silver On the Mount Tattoo(hey, those couches don't look like much, but they're really comfortable). They didn't publish any of the photos of Vince tattooing Santa, but it was still a good experience for the shop.

This isn't going to be the only thing going on for the shop this week. Wednesday morning, we're all headed up to Vince and Laura's place to meet up with the Channel 7 news crew. They're coming to talk to us about the Boat Parade. We've made some pretty good progress on the boat - the guys reworked the angels we had on the boat last year, and we had banners made up that read, "Seasons Greetings from Silver On the Mount Tattoo". I've had lots of fun with those - the other day, I was installing grommets on one of the banners, and wound up whacking my hand with the baby sledge hammer(yes, that's what it was) in the process. It still hurts like hell, and it's a little bruised, but in the end, all of this will be worth it.

Yes, we're going to be on TV. Sure, it's local news, nothing major. But this is a pretty big deal as far as the shop is concerned.

I just had to share.

Harmony in chaos.

Things have been entertaining as of late, to say the least. I've been offline for a while, but not because there's nothing to write about - the video card on my computer crapped out, and I've only just replaced it.

November 7th was a pretty typical day at work. It had been pretty quiet. It was around 5:00, Vince was on his way out to his Wednesday night meeting, and I was setting up appointments for a couple of tattoos. Nothing special.

And then the phone rang. I answered, as I always do, with my very professional sounding, "Silver On the Mount Tattoo?"

The man on the line asked to speak with the manager. I replied, "I'm sorry, he's not available at the moment. May I take a message? May I ask what this is regarding?" The line went silent for a moment. I was expecting it to be a telemarketing call, for the guy to say he'd call again another time. Instead, the man handed the phone off to someone else.

"Leslie?"

I knew that voice. It was my brother. It had been three months since we had spoken. He was the last person I expected.

"Hi...um, what's going on?"

And then he said it.

"Leslie...Dad's dead."

His dad. My mother's husband. Dead. I couldn't quite figure out what to say.

I motioned for Mike to come and cover the front, and excused myself. Vince was just getting into his truck to go to his meeting, and I flagged him down just before he pulled out. I told him what was going on. He made sure I was okay, gave me a hug, and went on his way. I went back to the phone call. Apparently, he had been diagnosed with leukemia the day before, and was scheduled to start chemotherapy later in the week. His prognosis had been good - the form of leukemia he had had a 90% survival rate. Something didn't make sense. All I knew was that I would be heading back to New Jersey in the next day or so, to see the family I wondered about for so long, and to say goodbye to the man who spent so much of his time trying to tear us apart.

It is in times like this that the word "family" goes so much deeper than blood, deeper than genetics, deeper than any strand of DNA can. In times like this, "family" comes down to the people who care about you, the people who are there when you need them to be.

I was going to have to fly to Jersey. I haven't been on a plane since I was 12, and had no clue as to how to go about booking a flight, especially on such short notice. Vince and Laura were both off the next day, but they came in to the shop that night to help me book the flight. I was going to ask them if there was any way I could borrow the money and pay them back a little each week, but they did something incredible. Vince told me to consider it to be my Christmas bonus. I never expected that. They have been so good to me. It's not just this, either - they have treated me like a daughter. I just can't begin to express how grateful I am to have the both of them in my life. I don't know where I would be without them.

And then there's Ryan. He came along at just the right time in my life. The night I got the call, he came over to my place after he got off of work at midnight, and stayed with me until four in the morning. I didn't really need anything, just company, and he was there. Just someone to hang out and watch TV(televangelists are hysterical at 3 AM)...just someone to be there. Anyway, my flight was booked for 6:45 AM on Friday, so the next night, he came over to take me to the airport. Now, it's one thing if someone offers to drive you to the airport. Ryan drove me to the airport at 4:30 in the morning, explained to me what I was supposed to do(remember, I haven't flown since long before 9/11), stayed there with me until six, and continued to send me text messages until I had to turn off my phone. He was so sweet. I really like this guy.

Right now, however, I'm not sure what's going on with Ryan. He hasn't been returning my calls, and I don't know why. I haven't talked to him since Thanksgiving, and then he told me he'd call the next day. It's now Monday, and no word from him.

But I digress.

Shannon picked me up from the airport and drove me to Mama's house. I thought it would be weird - it had been so long since we'd spoken, and the last time we did...things didn't go very well. I just kept thinking about the last words her husband ever said to me - "Fuck you, we're never speaking to you again". But when I walked into that house...the tension wasn't there. We talked and laughed...it felt good. For the first time in a very, very long time, it felt like we were a family again.

Shannon spent as much time as she was able with us. Mama refers to her as her "other daughter". Shannon is probably the only person who has been there for me, no matter what. Through all the years of family problems, she has always stood by me. It was good to finally get to see her again.

It's funny...with all that's happened, with how quickly things are changing...it was like everything was exactly the same.

One thing was different, though. One very important thing.

Through this whole ordeal, I realized something, maybe for the first time in my life. I realized just how many people I have in my life that love me. I needed that more than anything else right about now.

Talking to myself.

For as long as I can recall, I've had this habit of talking to myself. Usually, it's whatever train of thought is relevant - my grocery list, stuff I need to do at work, things like that. Tonight, it's been one thought, and one thought only.

"I really like this guy."

I've been playing phone tag with Ryan for the past couple days. I finally talked to him earlier this evening, and we were discussing when we might be able to get together. he told me he worked pretty much every day(which I can understand - I do the same. Being an adult sucks sometimes.), but he'd figure something out. I've been wanting to see him again, though - it's so rare that I meet someone that I just can't get off my mind. I got home from work, and kept trying to decide if I should go up to Friday's to see him again. This is where talking to myslef began for the evening - "If I go there, will I just end up screwing this up? I don't know. But if I don't go, I know I'm just going to keep wondering what would have happened had I gone. What do I do?"

I let the idea marinate for a while. I cut out some fabric, took a shower, and continued talking to myself. Finally, I decided to go. I figured, well, if I screw this up now, I haven't gotten to know him well enough to be too upset. Let's do it.

My hair wasn't even dry when I got on my scooter and went to Friday's. I got in, ordered a glass of wine, and I waited. No sign of him. I sat and watched the group of people next to me - one of them was deaf, and there were five or six people signing to one another. It was pretty interesting to watch - I have always wanted to learn sign language. I just kind of hung out, but he was nowhere to be found.

And then, I finally saw him. He was out of uniform, getting ready to go home. I wondered if he had seen me. I sat there with my merlot, waiting for him to notice me, but kind of half-hoping he didn't. I don't want the guy to think I'm stalking him. Finally, he was on his way out.

He walked past me without saying a word...and then sat down next to me at the bar. To be honest, I was kind of expecting, "What are you doing here? This is getting weird. I have to go", or something of the like. But, to my relief, we started talking. Not about anything in particular, just talking. I got to know a little more about him. He's 24(a bit younger than myself, but not unreasonably so), moved to Florida about five years ago from St. Louis, and still doesn't really know anybody here. I can absolutely relate to that - most of the people I have met haven't been worth my time.

Anyway, we wound up going outside for a smoke, taking our drinks with us, and got locked out. No big deal - it was closing time, and it was a lot quieter outside. We wound up sitting out there talking until about 2:30 in the morning. Mind you, I needed to get up for work at 10 this morning, but I didn't care. I was really enjoying his company. I did have to get home, though. He gave me a hug, and we parted company. And on my ride home, I continued talking to myself...

"I really like this guy."

Halloween Part II.

I have become abnormally accustomed to having my plans fall through at the last minute. It doesn't make it suck any less, but I'm used to it. Sometimes, though, things end up falling into place. That's something I'm not used to.

I got into work at four yesterday, as I usually do on Wednesdays. I had made plans with some friends to go to Rocky Horror Picture Show after work. The show started at 9:00, and I was supposed to get off of work at 8:00, which would have given me just enough time to go home and get ready before the show.

Vince and Laura left at five, and Adam is off on Wednesdays, so it was just Mike and me. Around six, a customer came in with a rather unusual request. Apparently, his grandmother had died that afternoon, and he wanted to get a memorial piece for her. The odd thing was, he had burned a piece of her hair, and asked Mike to mix the ashes in with the ink. And all of this occurring on Halloween. Very strange.

Anyway, Mike got to work putting the piece together for the guy, and didn't get him in the chair until almost 7:30. Mind you, the shop closes at 7:45. It was a good sized piece, and Mike didn't finish until about nine. By the time he cleaned up and everything, it was about 20 minutes past. So much for Rocky Horror.

I was pretty cranky after that. I was just going to go home, but I had worn my cowgirl costume to work, and figured I'd get the most out of it. I decided I needed a margarita, and went up to Friday's. I don't do bars. Ever. I figure, if I'm going to drink, it's cheaper to do it at home, and there's less bullshit to deal with. This was an occasion, though. Halloween is a holiday, damn it.

I walked in, and sat down at the bar, second seat from the corner(bars, diner counters, anything like that, that is always my seat - second from the corner), and waited for the bartender. After finishing with a customer, he comes up to me, looking like a computer tech that had been attacked by an axe murderer. What can I say? I have a soft spot for dorky guys. I myself would be considered a nerd(I was the library aide for eight years of school, and I give the boys at work vocabulary words. I am a nerd, and very proud of it). I was looking over the drink menu, and he informed me that happy hour started in 10 minutes, and he'd wait to ring up my drink.

Anyway, the bar was relatively quiet, and the bartender and I wound up talking for a good long while. He told me his name was Ryan. Ryan. That hit me. I'll go into that some other time. I was really enjoying his company. One margarita turned into two, then three. Sooner than I thought, it was 1:00 in the morning. The bar was closing up. I asked Ryan for my tab, and he said, "I've got you covered. Thank you for keeping me company". And then I did something I never do, much less in a bar - I gave him my number. I never do that. Usually, if some guy tries to pick me up, I immediately dismiss him. At most, I'll give the guy a number - usually, an ex-boyfriend's number, or if I'm feeling particularly spiteful, the non-emergency number for the police department(this was a recent discovery, and it works quite well when I have drunks at the pizza place hitting on me).

This guy, though...something about him struck me. That hasn't happened in a very long time. I've met a long procession of losers in my brief time in Florida, and in general in this snipe hunt that is the modern day dating world. I've become very jaded, probably a bit too cynical for my own good. Sooner or later, I know I need to let someone in. The last one I tried to get close to...well, I wanted more out of the relationship than he did. This one might be worth a chance. He even called me when he got done with work to make sure I got home okay. Not to make a date or anything, just to make sure I was alright. That in and of itself...he has potential. I'm going to give this guy a shot. Hopefully, I won't get burned again.

Halloween Part I.

Halloween is officially upon us once again. It's always been one of my favorite holidays. I decided to ring it in with a couple shots of Patron tequila. I'd been saving it for...well, company, but I don't forsee company coming soon enough.

It took a little while to figure out a costume for this year. Yes, I'm 26, and I still dress up. What can I say? It's not too often that I have the opportunity to look like a girl. These are photos from last year. I did the whole schoolgirl thing - it was all stuff I had in my closet(note the cat tree in the background), which is what I usually do. Kind of cliche, but the schoolgirl thing never really goes out of style. I've never had much money to spend on costumes, but I do quite well for myself.

Last year was pretty cool. Shannon and I decorated the house. We got a Jolly Roger on eBay to fly on our flagpole(which wound up being a year-round thing). We spent a good chunk of time putting up what we originally thought were purple lights. After we turned them on, we discovered they were pink. Add some fake cobwebs and a fog machine, and the end result...well, it kind of looked like there were gay pirates living there, but the neighborhood kids loved it.

And then...Bryce. Ah, yes, Bryce. He was this guy I met online. We had been discussing my photography, and he seemed pretty cool. He asked if he could come over, and, after I consulted with Shannon, and he assured me he would bring a female friend so things would be a bit more comfortable, I accepted.

I will say, we did have a good time that night, just talking and drinking wine and having fun. Bryce asked me out, and I told him that sometime soon, we could do that. I'm not one to jump at a date with someone I've just met, and I wanted to get to know him a little better first. It was a good thing I did.

I had a couple of phone conversations with him after that, and learned some things about him. Apparently, the girl he brought with him on Halloween was his best friend. She was also his roommate. They were also doing the whole friends with benefits thing in between relationships. The best part of this - they had a kid together. Okay...so you live with this chick...you're having sex with her...and she's the mother of your child. Yet, it's not a relationship. Good to know.

In the meantime, Bryce had given me a little photography job to do. Nothing major - just to take some photos of a restaurant for a commercial he was making. I did it, and sent him the photos. We got to talking, and considering the obvious, I decided not to go out with him. He then proceeded to berate me for a good while, about how he couldn't use the photos, this, that, and the other thing. yes, he turned out to be a complete and utter douchebag. This, of course, is pretty much standard for me. Bryce, however, slipped under my radar, and that's what pissed me off. Well, if nothing else, at least he didn't get my pants off first.

Less than human.

It's been a long weekend, with nothing of any great note to report. I spent most of the day blowing off all of the stuff I needed to do. I got as far as buying cat food, and said, "Screw it". So, I did what I usually do when I'm shirking responsibility - I went and edited photos.

Photography is a hobby of mine. I take pictures of everyday things - trains and water towers seem to be a recurring theme. These are all from my last trip up to Jersey. I spent an obscene amount of time riding Amtrak from Fort Lauderdale to Penn Station, taking photos out the window. This was almost a year ago, and I only recently got around to editing the photos.

It was kind of a rough trip.

I had to go to Jersey to see my lawyer. About four and a half years ago, I was a passenger in a car accident. Long story short, after three surgeries, seven months of physical therapy, and discovering that I am allergic to nearly every narcotic painkiller known to man, I now have two four-inch long plates and 16 screws holding my left arm together.

Anyway, I had to go deal with more legal nonsense - namely, a visit to a doctor for the insurance company. I am absolutely terrified of doctors. I have good reason. The first doctor I dealt with for my arm completely screwed up. First, he gave me a synthetic bone graft, which didn't take. Then, he put in plates that were too small. Basically, the screws he installed were coming unscrewed(they had nothing to hold on to since the bone graft didn't take), and my arm was gradually falling apart again. I told him it still hurt and that I couldn't lift anything. His solution - more painkillers. Lots of fun. Finally, I told him I was getting a second opinion. His response - "I wouldn't do that if I were you". It sounded like a threat. This guy is supposed to be a doctor. He's supposed to be a healer. Instead, he more or less threatens me.

Anyway, I went and got my second opinion, and sure enough, my arm was about to fall apart. The new doctor went and took marrow from my hip, and installed all new hardware. He did a beautiful job sewing me back up, too - I have a six inch long scar on my arm, which is barely noticeable(it's also since been covered with a tattoo). My arm is never going to be quite the same - I lost much of the range of motion in my arm. I can only turn it about 30 degrees at the wrist, where it used to be a full 180. You can feel the plates through the skin, which can be lots of fun for creeping people out, but I can't say it does much for my self-esteem.

Besides that, going to Jersey meant staying with Mama and - I don't know what to call him at this point. He would be considered my stepfather, but the term "father" is one I have never found a use for. He's my mother's husband, in the legal sense of the word, but he's never been much of a husband, either. He's just the asshole my mom has been married to for the past 21 years. They married when I was five. My biological father left when I was too young to remember. All my life, they refused to give me any sort of information about him. I don't care to know the man, but there are things that I would like to know - medical history, my ethnic background...and if he had any other children. The one thing I ever heard about him was that he had been married five or six times after Mama, so in all likelihood, I have half-siblings I will never know about.

The guy my mom is married to...I never understood why. For as long as I can remember, he has looked down upon women as lesser beings...less than human, I suppose. This was especially the case for me - not only was I female, but I was not his biological child. I was never seen as more than his personal servant, at best, "Daddy's little tax deduction". Mama worked all the time, and I was left to clean the house, prepare his meals, take care of my half brother(his son), and summarily got my ass kicked if I showed any thought of my own, if I ever wanted or needed anything...I was nothing in his eyes, and I still am.

We aren't speaking at the moment, and haven't for quite some time. Once I grew up and moved out, the only time I ever heard from him was when he wanted money. Leeching off of Mama just isn't enough for him. I miss Mama dearly. Every single day since I last talked to her, I've wanted to call her to tell her how much I love her, and to beg and plead for her to get a divorce. I've wanted to tell her that for as long as I can remember. I just don't know how.

Conversations At Work - Prometheus

After Mike finished his tattoos this evening, I had to tell him all about the little girl who wanted to get tattooed. This is, more or less, the conversation that followed -

Mike - "That last girl decided to name her Jesus fish after me"(I'm not sure what the proper term for it is - the customers always call it the Jesus fish).
Me - "Well, it's appropriate. You did play Jesus at the Boat Parade last year."
Mike - "Yeah. It's still weird, though."
Me - "Girls are weird."
Mike - "Tell me about it."
Me - "Vince and I were talking about girls who name their boyfriend's penises the other day. I never got that."
Mike - "Me neither. None of my girlfriends ever did that. I guess as long as she didn't give it a name like "Sprinkles", it would be okay. Even if she did that, I could live with it...if she gave it C.P.R. afterwards."
Me - ""Sprinkles". Hey, she could call it something like "Mr. Giggles"."
Mike - ""Mr. Giggles" is a clown name. If she called it that, I'd tell her to get the fuck out of my house."
Me - "Yeah...but I'd say that "Sprinkles" is a clown name, too."
Mike - "It's not as bad, though. I'd be fine with something like "Spanky"."
Me - "Very imaginitive. I'd figure you'd come up with something like "Thor" or "Apollo" or something like that."
Mike - "Yeah, but all those Greek guys had tiny wieners."
Me - "Dude, they were having sex all the time, though. Of couse, half the time, it was with other dudes...And Thor is Norse."
Mike - "If I were going to name my wiener, I'd call it "Prometheus". I was reading about him, and he stole fire from the gods."
Me - ""Prometheus" is an excellent penis name. I'm just not sure you want anything to do with fire being so closely related to your genitalia."

You know, it's amazing just how strange our conversations get when it's slow.

They keep starting younger and younger...

Today was a pretty typical Thursday at work, for the most part. Vince was off, Adam is on vacation for the rest of the week, and Laura left at four. Mike had a couple of tattoos to do on these 17-year-old girls, so I was holding down the fort up front. And then, I did something I never expected to have to do - I dissuaded someone from getting a tattoo.

Now, I usually end up making a face if someone wants to get their boyfriend's name or something like that(we had a lady come in the other day asking about covering up two exes' names - and showed us two others she had already covered), but we don't really try to talk them out of getting tattooed. This was a little different, though.

You see, the girl who wanted the tattoo was four.

A couple came into the shop with their little girl, who had clearly been crying. The conversation went something like this -

Mom - "I was wondering...my daughter really, really wants to get a tattoo, and..."
Me - "Well, I do have some temporary tattoos, if she'd like some of those."
Mom - "Actually, she wants to get a real one."
Me - "How old is she?"
Mom - "She's four. Her dad and I both have tattoos. I just got another one, and ever since, she's been crying because she wants one, too. She doesn't like the temporary ones because they come off. She doesn't believe that real tattoos hurt. I thought it would be a good idea to bring her to a tattoo shop, so someone could tell her how it works."

Mind you, I'm usually not great with kids. This...this was kind of a special case, though. She was very shy, and still wiping away tears because she couldn't get a tattoo until she was a big girl. I walked around the counter and crouched down to her eye level.

"Have you ever had to go to the doctor and get a shot?"

She nodded, very slowly.

"Now, was that any fun?"

She thought about it for a minute, and then shook her head.

"Well, that's a lot like getting a tattoo, except a tattoo is lots and lots of needles...do you still want one?"

After a minute, she nodded.

"You don't want a tattoo. It hurts a whole lot. It's like getting lots of shots from the doctor. Maybe when you're a grown-up, you might like to get one, but I don't think it would be very much fun."

Her mom asked again, "So, now do you want to get a tattoo?"

Finally, she shook her head "no". I handed her a couple of the Halloween tattoos we had at the counter, and blew up one of the Silver On The Mount balloons we just ordered(we have a helium tank and everything). Needless to say, Mom was very grateful for the chat I had with her little girl. That kind of made my day.

Origin of the Diner Napkin Philosopher.

It all started long ago, in a land far away - okay, so it was six or seven years ago, and it was the Brookside Diner in Hanover, New Jersey. Take all the magic out of it.

Back in the day, I had a group of friends with whom I would visit our friendly local diner. This was pretty much a nightly thing - if you don't go into New York, there isn't much to do in Jersey on a Tuesday night. You either get drunk, or go to the diner. Sometimes, you get drunk and then go to the diner, or on special occasions(like Tuesday), you get drunk at the diner. John, the owner, was quite fond of us(probably because we must have put his kids through college on just the coffee we ordered alone), so he'd let us bring a bottle of wine to enjoy with our...well, usually coffee. Of course, a cheap cabernet goes beautifully with disco fries.

Anyway, I have always been the quiet one. This isn't to say that I didn't participate in the conversation, in my own way. I would just quietly sit there, jotting down things that people would say on napkins. I am, after all, a people watcher by nature.

Taking things horribly out of context can be so much fun.

I have saved many of my diner napkins from over the years. These are some things that come up in conversation when your friends are a bunch of gamer geeks that work for Starbucks(myself included - I was a Starbucks Soldier for five years), all of whom are completely and utterly sleep-deprived.

• "Keith likes his women like he likes his Scotch - twelve years old".
• "The queen of non-perishable food"
• "Allan...why were you naked at Mom's funeral?"
• "Tweety - the anthropomorphic dildo-headed bird"
• "Thirteen Scottish men fighting a gay dragon"
• "Should we, or should we not, listen to the advice of the galactically stupid?"
• "Bryan went chasing after some big nasty dead dude"
• "Assless leather pants for ALL!"
• "If you mix diesel fuel and gasoline, you get one of the most explosive compounds known to man. Do not do this."
• "Beware the moose at night"
• "Yes, my name's Hef. Yes, I am related to Hugh. Yes, I do have his reputation...no, not really."
• "Kean University - the "K" stands for "Kwality"(later, this also applied to Shannon's Plymouth Reliant K - that is another story in and of itself)"
• "Lunch Money - the game with Catholic school girls beating the crap out of each other"
• "Glen is not an omelet"
• "Keith is not a rabid wombat!(this one is a repeated topic of conversation)"
• "The little Palitan that couldn't"
• "You can shag anywhere in the museum - the Neanderthal exhibit?"
• "Hef is the man boob god"
• "There's nothing like a blowup doll to hold your beer for you"
• "Pissing off fire escapes onto small children"
• "Don't trust the stuff leprauchans try to sell you."

• And my personal favorite - "Football teaches good, old-fashioned American values, like taking other people's property, and wearing tight pants while you do it."

Yes, I am aware of the fact that I have some very, very strange friends. After 15 cups of coffee, you'd be strange, too. of course, I'm not sure who would be considered weirder - the people I associate with for saying this stuff, or myself, for writing it all down, and actually holding on to these things over the years.

There was, however, one instance where one of my notetaking ventures came to good use. In 2005, Shannon and I had an ill-fated Memorial Day party. I'm not up to going into detail right now - let's just say that our other roommate turned it into a frathouse kegger. One of our friends in attendance(not one of the drunken frat boys) was Jayson. After all the "kids" passed out, Jayson, Shannon and I sat in the living room, just talking. It wasn't a diner, and it wasn't on a napkin, but I was once again taking notes on the conversation. I saved those as well.

On July 21st, 2006, his 23rd birthday, Jayson died of renal failure. He had been born with a liver defect, and had two liver transplants earlier in his life. Jayson was gay, and had never been able to tell this to his family. He felt that he couldn't - his family would have disowned him. Because of this, he was very depressed, and lived a very self-destructive life - he drank heavily, and got into ecstasy and things like that. In the end, as we had all feared it would one day, it killed him.

We didn't see much of Jayson the year before he died. The photo is from the last time we saw him. He came to visit Shannon and I at the porn shop just before we moved to Florida. This is typical Jayson - trying on the "Breast Enhancer Strap-On Breasts" and mugging for the camera. This was one of our last happy memories with him, as were the notes from that conversation. Even if it is just a couple pieces of paper, some random words and phrases I scribbled after a night of drinking, it is still something to keep his memory going.

Somebody give Santa some boobs to look at.

The guy from the Miami Herald came to the shop today for the photo shoot. That was...interesting, to say the least. They showed up right after I got into work(actually, while I was cleaning the bathroom - one of the glamorous parts of the job. I bet you won't see that on Miami Ink).

Anyway, this isn't a typical "sweetness and light" Christmas shoot. This is going to be the cover for this year's Dave Barry Christmas Gift Guide. For those of you who aren't familiar with him, Dave Barry is the satirical writer for the Herald, and every year, has his gift guide - with all the really horrible gifts. Last year's was fantastic - who wouldn't want the Marie Antoinette action figure? How this involves us - this year's featured crappy gift is those fake tattoo sleeves. I'm sure you've seen them. They're those mesh sleeves with cheesy tattoo designs printed on them. We had a pair on Mary, our shop's manequin(yes, the shop has a manequin, and her name is Mary. Vince and Laura, his wife and the shop's front end manager, got her at a yard sale, and her name was carved into the side of her head). We eventually decided that they were too cheesy, even for a manequin. That, and we actually had customers coming in to the shop asking if we sold them.

Anyway, they got a whole bunch of shots with Vince and Santa Claus. Santa(a.k.a., the photographer's brother's best friend) was seated in Vince's tattoo chair, and the pair of them made lots of horrified faces. We then got Santa over to the couch, and situated him with a tattoo book. She randomly opened it to a page, and, of course, when she hands it to him, the first thing he sees - tattooed penis. Laura seems to be quite good at opening to the page with the naked dude. Of course, we all get a good laugh out of this, followed by me with, "Okay, guys. Somebody give Santa some boobs to look at".

I will have more details on this coming up very soon. I'll have the link once they publish the article. That, and I'm almost positive that there will be photos of the shoot(yes, I was running around with the camera, taking pictures of the photographer taking pictures) on the shop's website.

Porn shop anecdote - Hot, sweaty Domino's Pizza

To give you a feel for what my life experience has been, let me introduce you to Venereal Staine.

Before I moved to Florida, I worked in an adult bookstore for a year and a half - the Cupid's Treasures in Kenvil, NJ. My best friend, Shannon, and I lived upstairs from the shop, and we both worked there. It was a crappy job in and of itself, but it did afford many opportunities to be completely and utterly annoying. It's always more fun trying to shop for adult entertainment when the theme song from Benny Hill is being looped in the background...over...and over...and over...

Needless to say, we spent a lot of time watching customer's reactions on the security monitor.

Now, back to our lovely friend over there. One of the former employees had gone to a porn convention(yes, they really do have porn conventions), and had obtained a signed poster of adult star Veronica Caine. It was signed, "To the gang at Cupid's - Hot, sweaty lovin'! Veronica Caine". The poster hung on the door to the office for years, and no one really gave it much thought.

Anyway, Shannon and I were sorting through the folder we kept all the menus in, trying to find a real pizza place(NOTE: Domino's is not real pizza. I'm from New Jersey. I know real pizza) among the dozens of menus from Domino's Pizza. I'm still not sure why we had so many - every time someone ordered food, they would shove the menu in there. We had duplicates of everything. It was a mess.

After we finally found real pizza, we decided to sort through all the menus and dispose of the stockpile we had from Domino's. It was a slow night, as they usually were. We always found some sort of little "art project" - setting up product displays for upcoming holidays(because nothing says "Merry Christmas" like a bunch of red and green vibrators wrapped in tinsel), rearranging the products so they actually made sense, adding stupid captions to the "Community Spirit" calendar we had hanging in the office, etc.

And then...we remembered Veronica.

It started harmlessly enough - we cut out pizzas from the Domino's menu, and taped them up over her boobs, followed by the big, bold, "Always hot! Always fresh!" We stuck the Domino's logo over the autograph, so it now read, "To the gang at Cupid's - Hot, sweaty Domino's Pizza".

From then on, we would add things to her at random. Shannon changed her name to "Venereal Staine". Coupons were great for this purpose. Lynn, the lady who worked during the day, found the words "Vapor action" in a VapoRub ad, and pasted it over her crotch. We added "Eat free for a week!" from an ad for some sort of contest, and "extra cheese" from a pizza box. For some reason unbeknownst to me, there was a tomato in her bra. It got a little weird after a while.

So yes, this is what happens when you sell adult novelties for a living, and have entirely too much free time on your hands.

Santa Claus is coming...to get tattooed.

Once again, Silver On The Mount Tattoo is going to be in the paper. This will be the third time the shop has been featured in one of the local papers since I started working there in November of last year. Publicity is good...even though, more often than not, it tends to be a bit weird.

The most recent article was the most normal one. I had attended a safe piercing practices course in August, and I was interviewed by the Sun-Sentinel(the paper for Fort Lauderdale). I guess it was a slow news day. Basically, they asked me what I thought of the class. I told them I had thought it was informative, and that it is imperative that we do all we can to keep our customers and ourselves safe. However, I neglected to mention the fact that a good portion of the seminar was more like a sales pitch than anything else. They had this guy from an autoclave testing supply company speaking, and he kept carrying on about his $250,000 sterilizer.

Of course, what I found most amusing is that the Sun-Sentinel published the fact that I have 31 piercings.

And then, there's the Boat Parade. This is a major event every year in Fort Lauderdale, just before Christmas. Last year's theme was "Broadway On The Waterway", and the shop did "Jesus Christ Superstar". We lit up the boat like crazy - the guys made these 40 foot high angels(they wove Christmas lights into these great big fishing nets, and we hoisted them up the mast), and had rope lights spelling out the name of the shop on the sides of the boat. We dressed up Mike - who was an apprentice at the time, and has now been tattooing for a while - as Jesus(I think he may have gotten a little too into the costume - we now have a sheet of religious flash with one of his Jesus photos stuck in the middle of it). As for me...I got to be some sort of go-go dancing angel. Yes, laugh at the photo. But we won. The shop won Best Overall for a commercial vessel(meaning one that advertised a local business, etc. - there was a seperate category for showboats).

Anyway, back to our upcoming article. A photographer from the Miami Herald came by the shop, and asked about doing a photo shoot with Santa Claus. It sounded just right for us - Vince(the shop's owner - he's my mentor, and has more or less become like a father to me) loves Christmas, and he loves publicity for the shop.

This isn't going to be typical, lovey dovey Christmas fare, though.

Apparently, the photographer wants to get a shot of Santa in the tattoo chair, getting a sleeve done. Somehow, this all relates to those cheesy fake tattoo sleeves(which, for some reason, we have customers looking for from time to time). I'm not quite sure what to expect.

This is going to be an interesting shoot. I'll have more info once it comes.