You won’t find me watching “Miami Ink.”
I hate needles. HATE them.
I hate them more than I hate guys who wear their baseball hats sideways (or, even worse, sideways with a KINK) and think they're the next coming of Eminem.
I hate them more than those people wearing sunglasses on a cloudy day...or inside a building. Unless you're an albino, TAKE THE GLASSES OFF.
I hate them more than I hate talking to people with accents...especially over the phone where I have no ability to try to read their lips. (This includes people from Texas - sorry, cowboy, but I can't understand ANY of that shit).
I hate them more than I hate bumper stickers that say, "If you can read this, you're too close." I want to kill this man. Guess what, jackass...I'm too close because YOU'RE SO FUCKING SLOW!
I hate needles. Always have, always will.
My hatred for needles is now much deeper since my testicles became another notch in the needle’s proverbial belt.
I’ve had cortisone shots in my shoulder that hurt less than the needle in my balls. MUCH less. It’s no wonder that I damn near kicked the urologist three times as he tried to numb up my old pal, "Mr. Rightnut."
Needles + balls = not a good idea.
I’m such a pussy…I hate pain.
…but I’m digressing here…
I’ve been to a few blog sites (and I know I have at least one fan here) who put up photos of their tattoos and art. Pictures of dinner plates stuffed into earlobes, and fancy conversion-van graphics grafted onto their backs…
I will have none of it.
Now, I have nothing against these people, and God love them that they can tolerate this level of pain and suffering…
But I’ve done a tattoo once…I probably won’t do it again unless I’m unconscious...or drunk...or some combination of both.
I’ve also had my ear pierced back when ear piercing on white guys was okay (this is how I sell it to myself).
The ear piercing process wasn’t all that bad (it was pretty quick and painless)...it’s just the fact that I don’t tend to follow instructions very well.
Immediately after getting my ear pierced, the woman piercing it said, “You cannot remove it for a week so it heals around it a bit” (or something to that effect). Regardless, her point was, DON’T TAKE IT OUT.
Of course, we got back to my girlfriend’s house where I immediately removed it.
I think the reason we removed it was because the “stud” that I got for it consisted of a faux stone that closely resembled the Hope Diamond. It was huge – like costume jewelry you’d get at a garage sale.
As such, I looked like Liberace…as I have a pretty small noggin. Not the look I was going for.
Now, if you take out your freshly pierced earring, let it be known that replacing that stud is an adventure in pain and torture.
Once you remove it, the freshly mangled skin in your ear simply wants to go back to it’s previous life. It looks across the piercing hole…sees the rest of it’s ear-lobe fleshy friends over there and says, “Hey…I know you…let’s get back together!”
The piercing hole closes faster than an L.A convenience store at the reading of OJ’s verdict.
So, there I am…with my future wife desperately trying to persuade this new stud to go back into this fleshy tunnel that no longer exists. We know there’s an entry hole on THIS side…and an exit hole on the OTHER side…but how you get from here to there through ¼ inch of earlobe is the question…
…so she starts pushing the stud through…trying to get it to pop out the other side…
Ugh…I heard a crunch…
I can’t feel the stud on the other side…so she shifts it around again….
Another FUCKING crunch?!? Really?!
I look at her…there’s blood on her hands.
I’m getting dizzy. She pops it back in one side and is still shimmying it around trying to find the exit on the other side…
Okay….I’m passing out at this point. Really…what was I thinking getting an earring?
..it's at this point that I ask my wife to leave, as I'm about to vomit.
The kicker? I ended up leaving that bitch in for about three months, total.
Then 21 Jump Street went off the air, and the look was gone.
Damn you, Johnny Depp. Damn you to Hell!
…then came the tattoo…so onto my next story...
..wait…didn’t I JUST say that I hate needles?
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
You won’t find me watching “Miami Ink.”