tattoo'd
Last night I had what might've been my weirdest dream yet.
It started out at some party somewhere with some people. It was all very vague. This part is pretty vague, but I think some more people showed up. Next, I woke up (in my dream), presumably the next morning, with dried vomit on my shirt. Then I was in a car driven by my highschool vice principal and Maeby and George Michael from Arrested Development. It was a blue station wagon. We went to some dock where there were a bunch of other people launching boats. Some guys were giving us a hard time aboot one thing or another and we were mocking their threats of violence with finger pistols and "p-tchoo p-tchoo" sounds. (It might interest you to know that I was just sitting here saying "p-tchoo p-tchoo" aloud trying to figure out how to represent it with words.) Anyways, shortly after we mocked the dudes, they headed back to their cars (to get their guns?). The cops showed up and started busting people. It was pretty exciting, I guess. That is where the dream ended.
It might've continued longer if I hadn't had trouble sleeping for the last few hours this morning. I am not sure what the deal was with that.
Last night was basically. I wasn't nearly as nervous as I thought I'd be and it didn't hurt nearly as much as I was told it would. The latter fact ended up being a good thing since I was relieved when my expectations for pain weren't met. Andy (the artist at Studio XIII who did my tattoo inked me) described it beforehand as being akin to dragging a toothpick across a sunburn, and I have to say that that is pretty accurate. Andy did a hell of a job, btw. He comes highly recommended. The only picture I have right now is on my phone and I haven't had a chance to reinstall the software to retrieve it. I'm sure I'll take a few with the regular digicam this weekend before it starts getting all scabby and gross.
It started out at some party somewhere with some people. It was all very vague. This part is pretty vague, but I think some more people showed up. Next, I woke up (in my dream), presumably the next morning, with dried vomit on my shirt. Then I was in a car driven by my highschool vice principal and Maeby and George Michael from Arrested Development. It was a blue station wagon. We went to some dock where there were a bunch of other people launching boats. Some guys were giving us a hard time aboot one thing or another and we were mocking their threats of violence with finger pistols and "p-tchoo p-tchoo" sounds. (It might interest you to know that I was just sitting here saying "p-tchoo p-tchoo" aloud trying to figure out how to represent it with words.) Anyways, shortly after we mocked the dudes, they headed back to their cars (to get their guns?). The cops showed up and started busting people. It was pretty exciting, I guess. That is where the dream ended.
It might've continued longer if I hadn't had trouble sleeping for the last few hours this morning. I am not sure what the deal was with that.
Last night was basically. I wasn't nearly as nervous as I thought I'd be and it didn't hurt nearly as much as I was told it would. The latter fact ended up being a good thing since I was relieved when my expectations for pain weren't met. Andy (the artist at Studio XIII who did my tattoo inked me) described it beforehand as being akin to dragging a toothpick across a sunburn, and I have to say that that is pretty accurate. Andy did a hell of a job, btw. He comes highly recommended. The only picture I have right now is on my phone and I haven't had a chance to reinstall the software to retrieve it. I'm sure I'll take a few with the regular digicam this weekend before it starts getting all scabby and gross.