Possums, I like to cuss.

I am one of those very few people who like to.

I kind of take pride in the fact that I could cuss in many languages and dialects. I am like a drunken sailor who has been around the world and many ports, though without the many women, bastard children, and tetanus shots!

However, I think that I have finally met my match!

Possums, they say that sometimes God let’s you see the error of your ways. He may turn around and feed you Key Lime Pie, which may be your favorite, but then He may keep feeding you it and feeding you it and feeding you it!

I didn’t swear for two weeks afterward!

As you all know I celebrated my birthday a couple of weeks ago. I drove around just having a day to myself, a “my day”.  What did a “my day” consist of? I started with breakfast at IKEA. Then I walked around for a couple of hours with no one hinting in my ears to leave. It was DE-VINE! Then I went to the dollar store and walked around for a half and hour with no one hinting in my ears to leave. Then I went to the hair store and looked at all the latest weaves and whatnots with no one hinting around for me to leave. Then I drove to all my favorite thrift shops and rummaged through their wares, again with no one hinting for me to leave. Then I went to the MAC make-up counter and admire this man’s make-up, with no one hinting for me to leave.

I felt like Papa Smurf leaving Grumpy, Brainy and Smurfette at home!

SIDE NOTE: Ava was forced agreed to stay at home. Happy Birthday to Me!!!

Then I looked felt hot and I grabbed an ice cream cone and wondered what else did I want to do on my birthday… Possums, I went and got another tattoo!

I went to the place that did one of my first tattoos. On a whim, I decided on a Buddha. I was going to get a saying, but I changed my mind.  I won’t tell you what the saying is, because I still plan to get it one day.

I was told to look through Jason’s book and that he would be with me shortly.

“Where do you want this fuckin’ tattoo?” Mr. Fuck-You Man asked me.

“Ummm, I would like it just above my wrist. Like so,” I told him.

“If your going to put your fuckin’ tattoo there, make sure that you don’t put your fuckin’ tattoo wrong –side up,” Mr. Fuck-You Man explained while he put on the sample on my wrist. “Now, go look in the fuckin’ mirror.”

I trotted (yes, I trot. I am a show pony!) over to the mirror. Mr. Fuck-You Man was right.  It did look dumb.

“Yeah, you are right. I think I will get it right-side up,” I told him.

“Ex-fuckin’-actly!” exclaimed Mr. Fuck-You Man. “Time and fuckin’ time again, I see so many fuckin’ people get their fuckin’ tattoos facing towards them and when they are done, they know that they were fuckin’ stupid!”

“Huh-huh,” I answered as I settle in the chair of pain.

“But, I am not going to fuckin’ tell them to their face that they are fuckin’ stupid, cause that would be fuckin’…”

”Stupid?” I finished.

“Fuck yeah!” he shouted over the machine.

In the next thirty minutes or so, I thought about pretty things.

Quiet things.

Things like-frolicking naked in the meadow off the coast of Ireland, sex on the French Riviera as the waves softly whisked away at my voluptuous body, and downing a large Assorted Submarine in a quiet bistro somewhere.  Alone. Hold the onions. I was trying to not only tune out the pain, but also tune out Mr. Fuck-You Man.

“Now, look at that. Look how fuckin’ great this looks!” said Mr. Fuck-You Man as he wiped off the last bit of ink and blood.

I have to admit even with all the swelling it did look…fuckin’ great!

I did feel like telling Mr. Fuck-You Man to stop swearing. Not in front of the Buddha!

I got another tattoo right afterward, paid my money and left. I left feeling sore and overwhelmed. My tally was now seven, but it still hurts every single time. It reminds me of losing my virginity-the uncomfortable position, the bright lights, noise of the radio and the looking awkwardly at the ceiling, while avoiding eye contact!

I told myself that I think that I will do maybe just two more. One day I will look like a badass at the nursing home. My dancing card will be filled for months!

I had just enough time to run and pick up my birthday cake, dash inside the house to get refreshed (make-up, clothes, douche-Happy Birthday to Me and shower) and of course, pick-up Ava.

“What did you go and do that for? Don’t you think that you have enough?” Ava told me when I showed her.

Possums that is the reason why I didn’t take her with me in the first place! I knew that she would piss all over the experience!
”Well, this one is the Buddha,” I said as I showed her.

“Mmmn,” she replied hands on her hips and still looking mad.

“And the other tattoo I got… is your name.”

Her face changed.

Possums, if Day Break could fly out of one’s bottom and fling itself into the sky, it would have done so right then.

“Oh. Well, then it is okay. I love your new tattoos!”

UPDATE: So, a couple of weeks have passed, and I am just about nearing the end of the healing stage. I was putting on the lotion when I looked down at my tattoo.

“It just can’t be!” I thought to myself.

I put my Buddha tattoo up to the light. The edges were smudged and some parts weren’t even lined properly.

I couldn’t believe it!

That bastard didn’t do a good job!

I was in such a hurry and feeling so peely-wally that I didn’t even inspect his work properly!

Mr. Fuck-you man!!

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