Things change

I spent some "quality" (read: high maintenance) time with Babsy today *grin* As Babsy caught up on a previous post on my blog, she turned to me and quipped, "I remember when you hated Rondon".

It's true. There was a time when I first arrived, when I ticked off every month that passed by as a survival milestone. Things were just so _hard_. Alone, starting a new life in an unfamiliar city, getting a job, living out of a suitcase, finding a home. I even broke off a "friendship" when the one person I knew who could help me out, turned her back on me. When times are tough, you really find out who your true friends are. There were such down times, when all I thought was, "Wtf am I doing here?". At one stage, I was bawling my eyes out on the phone to my big brother. The one person I could talk to in my family who would understand. I hated it here, yet if I left, was I a failure? He told me I had nothing to worry about, that if I was unhappy, I should just come home. It wasn't failure, I'd tried it and there was nothing wrong with finding out it wasn't right for me. He told me to set a deadline and to come home.

The thing is, almost everyone who moves here goes through the same pains and self-doubts. We've all done the couch surfing, and the penny pinching. We've all struggled, it's like an initiation. I think part of the problem was, I never had to struggle so hard for anything I wanted before. All my life, I've pretty much easily achieved everything that I've set out to accomplish. Did well in school. Went to university on a scholarship. Joined a prestigious consulting company (hah!). Travelled the world. Earnt enough to live an easy lifestyle. So it was a hard kick to the guts when the one thing I had such high expectations for, and had always dreamed of doing, almost became the biggest disaster in my personal life.

I set a deadline, and it came and went. I don't know what changed, but at about the 8 month mark of my stay in Rondon, I finally felt life was normal again. I stopped being sad. I finally understood when people said they loved Rondon because there was always something to do. So to those that have just moved here, and to those that are about to leave Sydnery, my advice is to give your new city at least a year to win you over. It gets better, and a lot less scarier. It really does. I don't hate Rondon anymore, and each month flies by without a sigh of relief from me :)

What does...

... a delivery of 24 pies look like? This girl definitely ain't going hungry for awhile :)

Thanks J&D for doing the order. It's chicken and mushroom pie for lunch today ;)

Home again

It's a funny feeling. Since I got back from Sydnery about... 8+ weeks ago (shite!), I've been either working or travelling. Haven't really had the chance to settle back in to routine. So coming back from Ibiza and being unemployed, is... AMAZING *grin* I'm sure this feeling won't last. In fact, I'm sure the feeling declines at the same rate as my savings :P For the moment, I just love the freedom and love just being in Rondon. It's like being a first time tourist again.

So in the past 5 days, I've managed to cram in:
- Checking out the new Whole Foods Market store with T&W - finally, a produce heaven in Rondon;
- Surreal Things at the V&A;
- Trip to Billingsgate fish markets for 2kg of prawns and razor clams;
- Chilli crab at Sus' place *YUMMO*
- Homemade laksa (FINALLY! I had time to crack open the laksa paste tub);
- Portobello markets. I always find myself back at the Coffee Plant people watching...

Mountain of chilli crabs!

Recovery

Well, kinda. Only in the sense that I was drinking and dancing lots, but this time, at a beach...

I did try to chillax and catch some rays on a deckchair, but it was too hard. The music was great and it was impossible to ignore. Bora Bora is like an after party beach bar. Wrong place for recovery. Every so often a plane flies over us and a cheer breaks out from the mob. If it's an incoming, we all knew what those people on the plane had ahead of them. The party's just getting started. If it's an outgoing, we all felt for the poor bastards who've had to leave the island.

16 hours later, as I was passing out on a deckchair back at Bora Bora after another clubbing marathon, a girl approaches me and squats down for a whispered conversation.
Girl: "I saw you dance the other day."
Me: "Err, okay..."
Girl: "You looked really cool. And I was wondering..."
Me thinking: Maybe I'm about to get invited to a VIP party!
Girl: "... if you would like my spare drugs because I'm going home today."

*lol* Okay, so maybe, I dance a little retardedly :) I obviously attract attention.

Thank you Babe, for showing me Ibiza Uncovered ;) It definitely had a lot less drunken Chavs than I expected. I'm no longer an Ibiza virgin, and I have a great tan to show for it.

AdF, you're next to be initiated! Bring on your 30th!

Lost in Space...

Literally.

(Tada - hot stewardesses in tight skimpy outfits!)

It's so silly! I've been clubbing so many times before. I've been to festivals with tens of thousands of people before. I've _never_ ever been lost. Never. Until I got to Space. This place is a maze of areas. I kept entering the same rooms, doing the same rounds and frustratingly finding the same exits or entrances. It's an experience more traumatic than it sounds. Each room was packed. At my height, air is scarce, the view is of elbows, and do you really think Spaniards take a "cutesy" (*gag*) oriental saying, "hola!" seriously? I have no idea why, but the sight of me brought a lot of smiles to faces everywhere I went. And a lot of head patting. I can't comprehend the head patting. Am I really that exotic in Spain? Actually, at one point, I pulled out my good ol' Australiana pasaporte to prove that I wasn't Japonés or Chino :)

While waiting for a friend, I made the mistake of showing off my "prowess" at the language to a random guy standing by the cigarette machine. The next thing I know, the guy is making gestures downstairs at his "pollo", and telling me it's "mucho grande". Amazingly, I bumped into him later on when I was lost, and he was kind enough to pull me through the crowd in the room. And I didn't even have to touch his pollo in return :P

More boobies!

After 10 hours of clubbing, I was tired. Knackered beyond belief. So I headed home at the o'so-late hour of 1am. Only to find 2 out of 3 of my flatmates already crashed out in bed :) The final flatmate arrived home at 11am!

Losing my virginity

Friday 1st June, the last day of my contract. At 5pm, I shoot out the door at work with my luggage in tow. Never to see the vomit yellow porta-warehouse again. Can you believe for the past 8 months I've been working on a train platform? Every morning, for those 8 months, a fire alarm test went off at 10am. That environment was designed to drive people crazy. No wonder the project was 4 years late!!

I arrive at the airport, and start drinking all by my lonesome. The bar crowd starts to build up. All of a sudden, I'm meeting random party-goers, and the group just gets bigger and bigger. As far as I'm aware, I'm 1 out of 2 Ibiza virgins in that group. It's an experience. It starts off with the party plane. It's a plane full of people with one destination in mind - the Space opening party in Ibiza. _Everyone_ I spoke to was going to be there. By the time we board the plane, everyone's buzzing with excitement and liquoring up. iPods are plugged in and pumping out music. A glass of champers gets delivered up the aisle to me :) The only thing missing are the tight lycra stewardess outfits. Don't worry, that comes later ;)

Surprisingly, everyone resisted the urge to go out when we arrived at 1am. Instead, we had an early Friday night and saved ourselves for this the next day:

I don't know when in my life it happened, but I seem to have reached the point where I can afford to lie around all day on a luxury yacht, tanning myself on deck, drinking sangria and watching as champagne gets sprayed onto nekid boobies. Yes, nekid boobies. Okay, fine, it was cheap champagne. But still - there were nekid boobies on my boat.

We sailed to Formentera and spent the day drinking. I would've swam more if there weren't soo many jellyfishies in the sea :( You know, I haven't felt this warm since January 2006. Seriously.

Ignorance isn't bliss

I never knew the Chemical Brothers were Electro Gods. All this time, I'd heard their name, but never seen them live or heard any of their music. Until tonight. At the spur of the moment, I bought myself a ticket to their gig at the Roundhouse. Best gig I've been to in Rondon yet! They're amazing live! Good enough for me to get over my frustration of being evacuated from the venue about 10 mins before they came onto stage. I waited out in the cold for over an hour, with no news about what was going to happen. I eventually walked away and headed to the bus stop. Good thing the bus stop was close by. Just as I was about to turn my back on the Chemical Brothers, I saw people heading back into the venue again. So I stayed.

It. Was. GREAT.

I was one level up and had soo much dancing space with a perfect view. Tons of people were packed on the dancefloor below. To think I was ready and willing to give up on the Chemical Brothers, all because I had never heard them before. It wasn't just the music that was good, the accompanying background visuals were pretty awesome too. I had so much fun :) I'm so glad I stayed.

All these years, I've been missing out on the Chemical Brothers. Ignorance isn't bliss at all. And I can't believe I forgot my camera :(

Oooh, and I finally had myself a Hache burger from Camden! I ordered a Sicilian, which was a Prime Beef steak, topped with Parma ham, and melted buffala mozerella cheese. On a fresh ciabatta bun. MMMmmm, YUMMO. I had to wait 20 mins for it, but I chowed it down in less than 10 :) The place was packed. Not sure if it's worth 8+ squids, but it's definitely one of the better burgers I've had. I'll be back, with friends.

Beenikster long weekend

All I remember is, I beat T in a race to finish a litre of Long Island Ice Tea - pwn3d!!! :P

And okay, the last picture at the bottom right corner is actually from Helsinki :)

Ooh la la!

Where to start? With the flight delay, tons of angry people waiting to start their long weekend, the 2 gate changes (3 for J&D), or Ryanair's craptacularly traumatic landing?

Or the visit to my future home and gardens? :)

I can definitely recommend a visit to Chateau Chenonceau, it's soo pretty.

Bordeaux is a great city. The city's people have invested tons of money into restoring its beauty and making it a place you'll enjoy staying in. Funnily enough, I came home with 2 bottles of Sauternes instead of any Bordeaux reds. Mmmm... sweet dessert wine... Despite the never ending fat raindrops which seemed determined to ruin our long weekend, we saw quite a bit of the region, drank, ate and slept a lot. Well, the passengers slept a lot *grin* My advise is to never get your driver's licence in order to avoid ever being the designated driver on road trips :P We spent Sunday walking around Bordeaux and St Emillion.

Napoleon commissioned the bridge, but I don't think he lived to see it completed...

I guess the best part for me was the cognac tasting in Cognac :) I'm definitely not a connoisseur, but somehow I was convinced by D to splash out on tasting X.O, the Paradis and the Richard Hennessy cognacs. D makes a great salesman :) But I'm glad I did taste all three. It's not often I get to say I drank something that was 200 years old *grin* It was definitely wasted on me though :P The only thing I could discern was that each tasted smoother than the previous. Did I like the taste? Err, not particularly... it burns. Sorry!

Random cognac factoids:
- Although Hennessy cognac has been around for a very long time, not many Frenchies drink it. Err, mainly because it's not French. Hennessy is Irish :)
- In 1971, Hennessy merged with Moet et Chandon. In 1987, the group then merged with Louis Vuitton, to create the largest luxury goods business: LVMH.
- Cognac is made from a blend of various eau-de-vie (colourless brandy). 12 kgs of grapes makes one 1 litre bottle of eau-de-vie.
- VS stands for Very Special, and requires the youngest brandy to be aged for at least 2 years.
- VSOP stands for Very Special Old Pale, and requires the youngest brandy to be aged for at least 4 years.
- X.O stands for Extra Old, and requires the youngest brandy to be aged for at least 6 years.
- Richard Hennessy is named after the founder of Hennessy Cognac. The blends are aged between 45 and 200 years old. A 700ml bottle will set you back EU$1281.25.
- The ultimate job at Hennessy, has to be the Cellar Master. It's his duty to take inventory of all the blends in Hennessy's 45 cognac houses. He has to TASTE every different blend, and decide if the brandies need a new barrel, or if it needs to be mixed with other blends, or if the blends are ready. He has a team of six Tasters, but The Man, has the final say.

Lastly, there's the Ellipse. This one's not for plebs. At a price of EU$3000+, it's made from 7 different blends chosen by 7 generations of Cellar Masters. Each Cellar Master picked his favourite eau-de-vie for this special cognac. Only 100 bottles were made, and even the bottle itself is a work of art. Although, you can't really tell from my crap picture *grin*

Size matters?

Vigeland sculpture park. I expected lots of sculptures in a park. However, I didn't expect to be greeted by a 14 metre tall phallic symbol. Can you spot it?

How about now?

My, my, my. It's _soo_ massive *grin* A man gets an entire park to showcase his work, and he makes the centrepiece a grand... you know. So typical :P

I miss Rondon

It sounds like a silly thing to say. But part of the reason I haven't had much to blog about lately, is cause I haven't really spent any decent time in Rondon! Every weekend, since I've been back from Sydnery, I've "gone gallivanting" (to use my Mother's words). First it was Amsterdam for Queen's Day. Then it was Tallinn and Helsinki with the household crew for the first long weekend in May. After that it was back to Delft for U&W's Dutch wedding celebration. And I just spent last weekend in Oslo. This coming weekend is in Bordeaux. And the weekend after that is Ibiza!!

It all seemed like a great idea at the time I was planning these trips. Errr... maybe I was a little overzealous in my planning. Now, I just want one weekend in Rondon to chill out... To go to Borough Markets for some chorizo. To go to Camden to eat a Hache burger. To buy some groceries for the week. To go to Bar Italia or Flat White for a weekend caffeine hit. To stroll around familiar ground. To do my laundry!

I've done 9 cities in 5 months this year... I'm looking forward to a restful weekend that doesn't involve a 3am wake up call to catch the airport bus.

Do I sound spoilt? ;)

Making girls cry

Remember that speech I blogged for Ula & Wilco? I had a chance to say it last weekend at their Dutch wedding party :) I made Ula teary *grin* YES! Mission accomplished! Although, poor Wilco, he had already read my speech here and it was all old news to him. So I've tweaked the speech I blogged to match most of what I said that night, if you want to read it again.

I was even invited to speak at someone else's wedding that night! *lol*

And once again, I went home with a girl after the wedding. Hrm. At least this time it was separate beds ;)

Tom

Tom's the guy that sells the Big Issue at Marylebone station. Well, I think his name's Tom, I hope I heard right. For the past few weeks, he's been standing there, every morning, as grumpy Rondoners walk past him without a glance. "BIG ISSUE! No? Have a good day Maam/Sir!" and Tom means it.

Lately, I get up every morning, and lie in bed thinking, "I really don't want to go to work today". I hide under my duvet (C, are you proud I didn't say "doona"? :) ) until the very last moment. When it's 8.05am, I know I have to get my butt into gear. I sit at my desk and I count down the hours. When it hits 4:30pm, I'm counting down the minutes till 5pm. When I get home, I'm reluctant to talk about work because it's been sh*tty. You'll notice I don't usually blog about work either.

Tom sees people get off the trains every morning. He says they look grumpy, some of them hate their jobs, hate coming into Rondon, and hate their incomes. Basically, he sees people like me. I stand in the bus lines when it's too cold/wet to walk to work, earphones plugged in, with a frown for the long day ahead. So Tom's trying to bring a smile to people's faces every morning. Strangely, it works :) I watch Tom at work, and he's got soo much enthusiasm for selling the Big Issue, that it made me smile. Heck, I bought one and I haven't read it yet.

This morning, I got Tom a latte, and had a chat. Here's a guy, down on his luck, making a living out of selling the Big Issue. He's homeless, and he wants to save up for his own place. Considering he only gets 80p out of every £1.50 magazine he sells, it's going to take him awhile.

Yet, he's the most optimistic person I've met in a long time. There's no lesson here. I just hope I don't have to lose it all in order to have Tom's optimism in life. I've seen a lot of things in life. I've moved to Rondon. I've had opportunities my parents and other kids in my extended family didn't. What exactly does it take for me to be happy or content?

Marriage?

I thought I was off the hook. I'm the youngest of three kids. My eldest brother is married. He and his wife recently had a baby girl. So when I called my Mum for a chat on Monday, I never expected to have this conversation with her:

Mum: "You're getting close to 30, my dear."
Me: "I know. So what?"
Mum: "It's time you got married."
Me: "WHAT?!?"
Mum: "Do you want me to matchmake for you?"
Me: "WHAT?!?!? Who have you been talking to??"
Mum: "If you have a husband, you won't have time to go gallivanting."
Me: "MUM! You already have one grandkid to play with!"

So, I'm closer to 30. That apparently means I have to get married. Mygawd, the thought of my Mother picking someone for me... *shudder* It's weird actually. Last year, it was all about weddings. The majority of my friends got hitched. This year, it's beginning to be all about babies. Friends are starting to talk about getting the right healthcare with obstetrician cover. In the meantime, I've been spending my money on holidays, tattoos, clubs, and err, teeth whitening (*dazzle* *dazzle*). Weddings, mortgages, babies... Last thing on my mind. I'm a little selfish at the moment. Not ready to settle. Love my freedom. Rah rah rah.

In order to get my Mother's mind off marrying me to a random stranger, I'm switching the focus to my bachelor brother :P Anyone out there looking for a very eligible 32 year old bachelor? Has good looks (well, he's got the same genes as me). Loves to cook Italian. Go on, make my Mother happy :)

Missy Wan, don't think you're going to win the bet so easily :P

IIITCHYYY

This is seriously an endurance test. Gawd... I don't know what's worse, the pain for 4.5 hours, or the itchiness that's been going on for the past 48 hours. Can't scratch or the ink comes off. The skin's starting to scab and peel. It's interesting to see the colour beneath the peel. I'm feeling reptilian. I'm also getting extremely paranoid. I keep staring at my butt, and for the first time in a loooong time, I've noticed something -

OMG. Look at all that CELLULITE O_o

It's been that long since I looked closely at my buttocks...

So, here's what I know about tattoo care (which, to be honest, isn't much):
- Tattoos apparently like warm water. So shower with extremely warm water.
- Don't aim the water directly at the tattoo. Don't soak in hot tubs or baths. Showers only. Water will lift the scab.
- Use a mild soap.
- I moisturise twice a day. Once in the morning and once at night. Use a lotion with no fragrance. My tattooist recommended Vaseline Intensive Care. I've also used Nivea before, on my dragon, and that turned out well.

See how it goes, eh?

PS to Joh: I never knew you had a tattoo!!! I didn't get around to asking you about it last night! You've been hiding it!

Queen's Day!!!

It's a nice sunny day in Amsterdam, and everyone was out to party! In boats! The canals were endlessly filled with party boats. Anyone want to organise a theme boat for next year's Queen's Day? :)

The day was topped off at Leiden with a free gig by Armin van Buuren (ranked #2). It would've been a lot better without the crazy puberscent kids around. I'm starting to sound like an old fart :( Think from now on, I'll stick to over 18 events.

Happy Birthday Trini!

Hope you had a good time last Friday *lol* At least you didn't throw up! I'm glad you've finally made it to Rondon :) Bring on Summer, and bring on the parties!

The first Beeniksteraztri (*phew*) household outing:

Moy! Moy!

With all things in life, there's always such a massive difference when you deal with professionals - People who know how to do their job, and to do it really well. When I got my first tattoo, I walked into a tattoo shop in Newtown, showed my ID and had it done pretty dang quickly. I walked out with a not-so-good blue rose.

When I got my second tattoo, I didn't do any research either. I picked something I liked and had it done by a random guy. He did a good job, but it was just inking in a big dragon. Not much detail involved. Plus, there were people walking in and out of the tattoo room while I was there sitting in my bra.
Random guy: "What's that?"
Tattooist: "Tribal dragon" (d’uh)
Random guy: "Cooool maaan..."

Not the most confidence inspiring experience.

This time round, I did my research. I wanted someone good, and I wanted it done in a style which suited me. So I started looking up A LOT of tattooists. I looked through Needled. I tried looking through BME (NSFW), that was too hard. Finally, I looked through the London Tattoo Convention website. That's where I found Rob Admiraal :) Unfortunately, Rob's a busy man, and even though I tried back in January to get an appointment, he was already booked out till 2008! I met Rob on the weekend, and he's hilarious :) He's the Karaoke tattooist who bursts out into song while tattooing! I saw Rob at work, and his work, is seriously beautiful. Lekker! Lekker!

So Rob recommended Lina as the tattooist for me since he couldn't do it. Lina is Rob's "right hand" girl, as in, I think Lina did the tattoos on his right arm *grin* I'm glad he recommended Lina, because her style was exactly what I wanted :)

What did I want? A koi!

I met with Lina on Saturday to discuss size, position and colours. She talked me through my options and made me feel a lot more confident about it. We were ready to go. On Sunday, I arrived half an hour early for the appointment, and had time to contemplate what I was about to do. I felt like throwing up into the idyllic Dutch canal. I knew I wanted it. I also knew that it was going to hurt.

When Lina arrived, she prepped infront of me. It was comforting to see her prep. Everything was cleaned down and wrapped, from the lamp, to the squeeze bottles. She brought her inks out, inspected her equipment. I knew things were clean. She transferred the design onto my skin and had a discussion with Rob about... well, the discussion was in Dutch *grin* It was apparently about the placement of water. I trusted them.

I think I said it with the dragon, but this time I mean it - this is the absolute last tattoo for me. I can see how tattooing is addictive, such a large amount of space to fill! But, the pain, holy fcking cow, the pain.

Yes, it hurt. A lot. Worse than what I remember with the dragon. The first hour was the hardest. Lina placed me in different positions throughout the experience, and it was only appropriate that the first position was the foetal position. I felt like I needed my Mum! (Hrm, which reminds me, how on earth am I going to tell my Mum?!?) The pain's a funny thing. It's not consistent, and it's not something I got used to. Sometimes, I barely felt a ticklish tingle. Sometimes, it felt like someone was stabbing me through my back and carving a chunk of me out. Sometimes, I could feel the vibrations from the tattoo gun all the way down my left leg, and I had to clench and unclench my toes to make the pain bearable. When Lina started tattooing, I could literally feel my skin shrinking away from the needle as it got closer. I had to remind myself to keep breathing. It took a lot of energy for me to stay still at times.

After ONE hour, the outline is complete. Long way to go yet:

So, have I talked you out of having a tattoo yet? :) If you want to test your pain threshold, tattoos are a good way to start. By the way, the pain has nothing to do with Lina's skill. She was awesome and honestly, there were times I could've fallen asleep. The pain has to do with my body's reaction to needles stabbing certain parts of me :P Certain parts of everyone's body are just extremely sensitive. Nothing you can do about it.

The shading in, was surprisingly more bearable than the outlining. I was okay for most of it. In the remaining 3.5 hours, I had one more break, then we ploughed on. Lina started tattooing at 12PM, and finally stopped at 4:30PM. By that time, I was about ready to cry out, "STOP! I'll come back tomorrow!". I think my flesh was beyond sore at that point. The last half hour, I was wincing, making fists and muffling some whimpers. But it was over! :D And here is my koi:

So here's my plug for Lina - the BEST tattooist I've ever had :) I trusted Lina as a talented tattoo artist who knew what she was doing, and she made me feel good about getting the tattoo. I LOVE my happy koi. Moy! Moy! I saw some of Lina's tattoo photos, and she's done some amazing sleeves. If you want a tattoo you're never going to regret, make an appointment with Lina Stigsson at Admiraal Studio. Or see Lina in Rondon at this year's tattoo convention in October :)

Lina working on my tattoo:

Lina's website: www.myspace.com/linastigsson
Rob Admiraal Tattoo Studio
http://www.admiraaltattoo.com
Marnixstraat 151
1015 VM Amsterdam
The Netherlands
phone: +31 (0)20 622 32 18
email: info@admiraaltattoo.com

Rob Admiraal, the talented Singing Tattooist!

Commitment

If you want commitment, get a tattoo. There's no rollback once the needle sinks into skin.

Having a really big dragon on my back makes random strangers (mainly wasters in clubs) think they can reach out to touch it. It's irritating. I value my personal space and hate being touched by randoms. *Uggh* get your germy paws off me.

Having a really big dragon on my back also gets me some inevitable questions from people *sigh* Here's the FAQ based on my own experience.
1. Did it hurt?
Errrr, you don't have to know much about tattooing to realise a needle is used to permanently embed ink into your skin. Think about it, why _wouldn't_ it be painful? Of course it hurts!

According to How Stuff Works, tattoo artists use "an electrically powered tattoo machine that resembles (and sounds like) a dental drill. The machine moves a solid needle up and down to puncture the skin between 50 and 3,000 times per minute. The needle penetrates the skin by about a millimeter and deposits a drop of insoluble ink into the skin with each puncture."

Approx 3,000 times a minute... It's truly a masochistic experience.

2. Am I born in the Year of the Dragon?
No. Fair enough assumption to make, I guess. Since I'm oriental. But come on, I've grown out of cliches :)

3. Does it mean anything?
It's an ancient Chinese symbol carved into my back and blessed by monks (the kickass kung-fu type) when I was just 3 years old. When I cry out, "PIKACHU, I CHOOSE YOU!",the dragon materialises into life and eats my enemy. Inflicts Damage -201. Wah!

To me, it's a great piece of art. To my father it's a great piece of self-mutilation. When I was 22, I walked into a tattoo shop in Ybor City, fell in love with the design and got it. Of course, at the time, I was with some very concerned friends, who stopped me from getting it straight away. You know who you are, gals :P So I actually had to sneak out of the apartment, and do a stealth mission one night. To be honest, the dragon looked a lot smaller on the wall *lol*

4. What's going to happen when I grow old, or stop liking it?
This question REALLY annoys me. Fickle people. I'm not like you :P Don't do things that you're going to regret just because of age. When I grow old, the tattoo will still be there. Regardless of how it looks, I'll still love it because it's part of my history. If I don't love it, heck it's on my back and I can't see it :P

So why all this talk about tattoos? Cause... I have a confession to make. When I was 19, I got a really REALLY corny tattoo of a *whisper* blue rose on the back of my left hip *cringe*

My excuse is, I was 19! And like I said in Point #2, I've grown out of cliches ;) As an aside, if your kids ever want a tattoo, tell them they have to get past their teenage years first.

Why a blue rose? Oh you know, cause roses don't come in blue naturally, and it's therefore unique. Well, it _was_ unique until one of my best buddies who was with me, decided to get the same tattoo!!!! *lol* Ah well, it's touching that we have the same tattoo. Buddies forever.

That is, buddies until this weekend *grin* DM, you know I love ya (and I also know you don't read my blog, so hopefully you won't find out!) ;) I'll be honest, I don't regret getting the tattoo, but I've always thought it could've been done better. The tattoo doesn't even look much like a blue rose. My brother once commented that it looked like a weed :( So this weekend, I'm getting it fixed in Amsterdam! It's getting replaced by something else. That's assuming my Dutch tattooist remembers my appointment... He's a little slack on the email communication front :P

Excited? Yes, I am. How do I feel about the pain? Not good. Although the area is fattier above my hip than on my back, it still HURTS.

YAAA-TAAA!

9 people, stuffed with KFC, and now huddled around the Xbox and small TV - for the 19th episode of Heroes *sigh* Freaks :) Me, I'm hiding out in my room.

Peeking into the living room: