So Tuesday I went to see Mr Mat Lapping from that there Creative Vandals in that theeyer Hull, or as the people in Hull call it ULL. He spoke to me in a cockney accent, even though I have a wierdy Sheffield/Wakefield/Chesterfield accent, because I only live 70 miles from him, the cheeky snake :)
So he carried on with the epic sleeve my mind had spewed forth and he's doing his best to work to my every whim, even though I think, he thinks I'm truly one of the most eclectic eccentric people he may have ever met.. but surely not, surely... I know that most folk do say that once met, never forgotten, but there are a deal of folk that have forgotten me, but I dare say they never met the real me, so I suppose they could be forgiven.
Anyways, I digress, the reason for my ramblings today is to tell anyone that cares that my 7 hours of tattooing on my inner forearm on Tuesday still FUCKING KILLS like its on fire!!! I want to put it in the fridge or SAW IT OFF... IT LOOKS AMAZING BUT IT FUCKING HURTS MORE THAN MY FUCKING RIBS>>> AGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Ouch. Ouchy. Ouch. And today I'm looking after my mates dogs, and the little one keeps farting, or the fridge is full of gone off cheese... I think the first... it isn't a constant smell...
And I couldn't sleep last night because of the naffing arm... I am dreading under my bicep/tricep next to my armpit, I'm going to be such a girl... it's the healing time, not the tattoo time... I must be f***ing crazy... It's swollen today too :(