I can't believe it's already Friday night. And I'm in a real live coffeeshop downtown (Paris), and due to events of two weeks ago, I am now Hip Enough to Be Here.
Let's review. But first, let's wave to Jo. Hi Jo.
A conversation, two weeks ago, among the Sushi Babes:
Sushi Babe Der-Leche-Globetrotter: “Does it hurt?”
Sushi Babe Hippie-for-Jesus: “You die a little inside.”
Sushi Babe Der-Leche-Globetrotter: “Oh.”
Sushi Babe Hippie-for-Jesus: “So, Nance,* you ready to lose a little bit of your soul?”
Sushi Babe Nancy-Dancehall: “Bring it on.”
Sushi Babe Hippie-for-Jesus: “You sure you don't want to do this?”
Sushi Babe Der-Leche-Globetrotter: “Oh no. I've spent enough money on my nose. I'm not going to put a hole in it. But I brought the camera! Smile!”
Ten minutes later, I had a new hole in my head. Yay!
I'm wearing a little clear rhinestone. O calls me Sparkle.
But the guy who pierced my nose could have been friendlier. I mean, when you're going to poke a hole in someone's face, shouldn't you be just a little bit friendly? I finally got him to warm up when I asked him about his daughter's artwork. We were friends after that. Well, maybe not friends, but I felt better about having him potentially deliver unto me some god-awful pain.
Which didn't happen. It didn't hurt as much as getting my ears pierced. Seriously. I'd been psyching myself up all week and it only hurt for about three minutes.
It's been a GREAT week, so great that I can't even write about it. I've tried. It comes out wrong. There wasn't any Great Big Event that made it good, just a series of very nice happenings. And I'm bulletproof. Nothing got me down this week, and there were a few things that really could have. I just want to thank you all for your comments in my last post. It's a big part of it, I think.
So. Maybe when I get another free bit 'o time, and my Medroxyprogesterone isn't drawing me to my bed (yes, it's hours later and I'm home) I can actually write about some of those nice things that happened this week.
And maybe I can come up with a post including the word 'belly' that includes something about a very erotic dream I had concerning mine, in which petals slipped one by one from someone's hand, and when they landed on my belly became little drops of rain that slid down my skin.
That is, if you really want to hear about something like that. I'd hate to corrupt the pure hearts and minds of my Dear Readers.
*They actually don't know my Secret Identity. But since you might not know my Real Identity, we won't cross nickname streams here.
Labels: And when you have a tattoo of barbaloots in their barbaloot suits on your arm you should smile a little, it did hurt when I yawned, new approaches to nose-picking, Posts with labels that include TMI