hunk of irrevocable something, maybe?
It was a rainy, chilly Friday morning. Had an appointment later in the day that was very near where I lived, so I figured that maybe I’d just work from home instead of driving all the way to work and coming back for my appointment. I called my manager to make sure it was okay, asking as sweetly as I could. Boss lady sighed, exasperated at my supposed tendency to be a nuisance, for which I apologized profusely. Really she’d said nothing but, “Sure!” Spent an hour wringing my hands, wondering if she was mad, whether I’m getting fired soon. Ate some corn flakes with skim milk while I answered emails from clients, then had a banana for the potassium so I wouldn’t get the shakes later at my appointment. Got on a conference call to discuss the new brochure design, where the consensus was that the particular shade of green we were using for the logo was a tad too risqué. “I agree, definitely,” I lied. I didn’t know what it meant for a color to be sexy and thought maybe that meant I was colorblind. Made a note to have my eyes checked. Went to take a fish oil pill but noticed it said to take with food. It’d been a few hours since I ate. Wondered if that was okay. Then I said to myself, “You know what? ‘F’ it all!” – and I took it! The adrenaline flowed through me and I repeated what I’d said, but this time I actually SAID the ‘F’ word. I nearly ‘S’ed my pants I was so excited. Headed back to my desk to put the finishing touches on an ad layout, sent it out to the group without even spell checking it. Had a few more minutes to kill before leaving for my appointment, so I Googled “fish oil supplement without food adverse effects” and read for a while. Headed downtown to the tattoo parlor for my appointment. Paced outside for a few minutes, walked over to the trash can to throw up, paced, went inside. The artist laid the butcher’s paper template over my forearm, press down so the design stuck to my arm.
“You sure you want something like this on your arm?” he asked, “We try to talk things over with everyone that works an office job. It’s kind of drastic.”
I smiled, “Not as drastic as taking to heart what it says. Baby steps, you know?”
He shrugged and started drilling away at my forearm, reading it as he went, “My… mind… is… a… big…” I didn’t know if my mind was much of anything or if my worries were all cliché and stuff or if I actually was changing or if I’d ever shriek or bellow in anyway whatsoever. Maybe. Baby steps. To ignore the pain (it was making my ass sweat, which happens whenever I’m nervous. Which is often.), I tried to think about what I wanted for dinner.
Yeah. A whole pack of bacon. With mayonnaise. Maybe I’ll even crack open a Mike’s Hard Lemonade. And I’m going to sing entirely in cuss words while I’m making dinner. FUCK SHIT FOOL PUSSY ASS DAMN COCK NONSENSE BUTTHOLE.