I'm really not sure...
how this day could possibly get any fucking worse, but I'm sure it will find a way.
Today you can piss right the fuck off.
xox,
A
A 26 year old lawyer with a funny accent, a big heart and big hair trying to battle the "system". Warning... conspiracy theories abound.
how this day could possibly get any fucking worse, but I'm sure it will find a way.
Here's a pic of the new work. It's a redacted part of the "O" from the Swedish band Opeth. I loved the design, but only wanted this portion. It swells over my left hip and is about 6 or 7 inches long and about 3 inches high at the widest point. You can't really see the detailing in this pic because of the angle, but hey...
So, after work today I got a tattoo on my left hip (pics forthcoming) it's about 6-7 inches long and about 3 inches wide at the widest point. A guy named Steven is doing it for me, and as he's about to start, I'm nervous as hell. Shaking nervous. It's my first, and it's something I've been debating for nearly four years. My best friend is sitting with me, camera in hand, trying to calm me down. As I've just come from work... I'm still wearing work clothes - which as an attorney means I look a bit of an anomaly in the shop.
Recently, a close friend sent me a snippet of a home video from their childhood. Their family sat together at the table, the children laughing, wiggling in their seats. The closeness and intimacy was palpable. I could have reached out and touched it, it was so real. And as moving as it was, I felt intrusive, as if I had no right to watch. I've never had that intimacy... that overwhelming love, that closeness. The tears stung hot and heavy.
You've got to be kidding me. George Mason just beat UConn? Billy Packer and Jim Nance were wrong I guess about GM not being "good enough" to be in...
Upon first meeting me, most people assume that I'm a very high maintenance type of girl. This always puzzles me, as I'm much more the "let's grab a cooler of beer and some bait and just spend the day casting lines into the water" than I am the type to spend hours getting dolled up. I hated living in Miami's "seen and be seen" lifestyle. I don't care whose names you can drop - it doesn't impress me. I'm not a label whore, and would never be caught dead wearing one of the god awful (in my humble opinion) purses or bags or shoes emblazoned all over with a company's logo. I'm just as apt to shop a high end department store as I am in a thrift store (I'm quite partial to 1940s style clothes and shoes - as they actually fit women with real breasts and hips). I don't wear perfume. My jewelry usually consists of a pair of plain diamond or pearl stud earrings - and nothing more.
Sometimes the hardest part of the day is just getting out of bed. At times the prospect seems overwhelmingly difficult.
Right after New Years, I did some intellectual property work for a documentary filmmaker who was doing a piece in the NYC area. I had nearly forgotten about it, until I reached over to get a file - and realized that the office staff had labeled it:
(Not my normal stuff, I know. It’s for a writing project I’m contributing to. Feel free to skip it, it’s mostly rubbish.)
I was flipping through gorgeous Vanessa's pictures of her vacation (er, holiday I suppose to her) in the Cook Islands, and I had to admit that I was feeling a tinge jealous. What with all the cotton candy sunsets and the crystal waters, it's no wonder really...
Damn it.
I wish I had the courage at times to believe...
For St. Patrick's Day, a blessing for you all:
I talked to Granny this last weekend for a long time, and it was just like it used to be. She laughed, asking about how the cats were adapting to the new house - her voice warm and full of love and happiness. She said she was scared of her upcoming visit to the neurologist, but that she was going to put on her brave face and be "your iron horse." She sounded young, and chipper... and the woman I remember. With the soft arms and enormous bosom that she would smother you with hugs with. She was again the fiery Irish redhead who took no lip from anyone... She was her, if only for a brief hour.
We bought 20 strawberry plants, 2 blueberry bushes and 2 blackberry bushes and planted them outside the back porch today - along with a zillion pansies and the daffodil, tulips, crocus and hyacinths that I took from our old house.
First, a sweet and heartfelt thanks to Vanessa for the lovely Lush gift set that arrived on my door step, it is heavenly.
Thanks for all the wonderful ideas regarding the art situation. There are a lot of things I hadn't thought about - such as the framed textiles. I'll be taking "before" pictures later this week - and perhaps an "after" or two to show what we have done thus far. If nothing else, it'll give me the motivation to get off my ass and finish unpacking before the housecleaner comes on Friday.
There are more boxes prominently displayed in the downstairs portion of my house than in Cum Guzzling Sluts XVII. Not that I have seen such a flick mind you... but I'm sure it exists.