Okay. For the past week i've done shite all. Lazing around. Spending hours a day in SG Chat. Apart from that... nothing!
Okay, I suppose that's technically lying. For a while i've been trying to resurrect my mini-netbook. An Acer Aspire One. It came with a shitty version of Linux so i had to format the hard drive and somehow get Windows XP onto it... without a cd drive. That's where the fun started. Now i have it working but it's slow.
Another thing i did (if you can call it a thing) is I cleared out my I-tunes. Got rid of all the crap music that i'd gotten off other people. Streamlined the whole thing. Gave everything correct genres, artists, album names, you name it. Which took ages. Almost 14000 tracks! But that's the shit i like doing. Maybe i have something like OCD i don't know. And it's now as organised as it can be... for the minute. Also, every bit of music is now in 128kbps, MP3 format. ALL OF IT. Except spoken-word, which is in 96kbps and audiobooks, which are in 32kbps VBR. That's how anal and creepy i can get.
The third and last notable event this week has been to go to a tattoo parlour about the Dark Tower thing.
http://content.ytmnd.com/content/a/8/3/a836a8ddb1dccc52cea03657ae29504f.jpg
And go to the metal shop next door. There's a whole story behind this shop though. I went into it for the first time about six months ago, asked about t-shirts, and the saleswoman was a sarky bitch for no reason. I simply asked for a t-shirt and she got all attitude-y. After that i just left. Until yesterday! I went back, gave her the coldest shoulder you could imagine, i'm talking Hoth-cold here, and bought a t-shirt from someone else. Who turned out to be pleasant. And on the way out i shot her the most bitter look ever. I didn't confront her or anything like that, i prefer the subtle, passive-aggressive approach.
Anyway, I digress, back to the tattoo parlour. I stayed outside looking interestedly at the designs in the window for about ten minutes, before i worked up the courage to go in and talk with the epitome of perfection sitting at the desk. I almost went in straight away, until the person at the desk changed to her. She had piercings everywhere, long black dreads, was wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt, tattoos everywhere, and yellow tights. You know the way when you try and swagger in, having something to say laid out in your head, like an elegant tapestry of the perfect, seamless, flowing conversation, only to have it dissolve when the first question trips you up.
She said "Hi", instead of "Hello", and i was drowning in a sea of screaming voices, shouting my inadequacies, the exact wrong things to say and what i should do for lunch. Then i said "Hi", again. I answered her saying hello, with me saying hello. After i said hello first. I spluttered trying to salvage my tapestry, for what felt like, i don't know, say 97 years, before i abandoned the futile quest and started anew. Then it all just continued on. She said i had to print out a decent photo of it, so the artists could do it out, then i'd have to make an appointment. And that's about it. Took about 3 minutes. And then it started.
The post-game review. I remembered all the stupid, stupid, annoying, cringe-worthy, horrible, embarrassing words i had spouted. Nearly spitting like a cat at how ridiculous i sounded. "Hi! I was just wondering...", blah-de-blah-de-fucking stupid-blah, you're such an idiot. And i crossed the threshold of the shop, back out into Stephen's Green Shopping Centre, where sanity finally regained control of my spitting, terrified, humiliated brain. Then i went to Burger King
See! When i say nothing happens, i mean it. Meh. I still enjoy writing them. Peace out, y'all
Okay, I suppose that's technically lying. For a while i've been trying to resurrect my mini-netbook. An Acer Aspire One. It came with a shitty version of Linux so i had to format the hard drive and somehow get Windows XP onto it... without a cd drive. That's where the fun started. Now i have it working but it's slow.
Another thing i did (if you can call it a thing) is I cleared out my I-tunes. Got rid of all the crap music that i'd gotten off other people. Streamlined the whole thing. Gave everything correct genres, artists, album names, you name it. Which took ages. Almost 14000 tracks! But that's the shit i like doing. Maybe i have something like OCD i don't know. And it's now as organised as it can be... for the minute. Also, every bit of music is now in 128kbps, MP3 format. ALL OF IT. Except spoken-word, which is in 96kbps and audiobooks, which are in 32kbps VBR. That's how anal and creepy i can get.
The third and last notable event this week has been to go to a tattoo parlour about the Dark Tower thing.
http://content.ytmnd.com/content/a/8/3/a836a8ddb1dccc52cea03657ae29504f.jpg
And go to the metal shop next door. There's a whole story behind this shop though. I went into it for the first time about six months ago, asked about t-shirts, and the saleswoman was a sarky bitch for no reason. I simply asked for a t-shirt and she got all attitude-y. After that i just left. Until yesterday! I went back, gave her the coldest shoulder you could imagine, i'm talking Hoth-cold here, and bought a t-shirt from someone else. Who turned out to be pleasant. And on the way out i shot her the most bitter look ever. I didn't confront her or anything like that, i prefer the subtle, passive-aggressive approach.
Anyway, I digress, back to the tattoo parlour. I stayed outside looking interestedly at the designs in the window for about ten minutes, before i worked up the courage to go in and talk with the epitome of perfection sitting at the desk. I almost went in straight away, until the person at the desk changed to her. She had piercings everywhere, long black dreads, was wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt, tattoos everywhere, and yellow tights. You know the way when you try and swagger in, having something to say laid out in your head, like an elegant tapestry of the perfect, seamless, flowing conversation, only to have it dissolve when the first question trips you up.
She said "Hi", instead of "Hello", and i was drowning in a sea of screaming voices, shouting my inadequacies, the exact wrong things to say and what i should do for lunch. Then i said "Hi", again. I answered her saying hello, with me saying hello. After i said hello first. I spluttered trying to salvage my tapestry, for what felt like, i don't know, say 97 years, before i abandoned the futile quest and started anew. Then it all just continued on. She said i had to print out a decent photo of it, so the artists could do it out, then i'd have to make an appointment. And that's about it. Took about 3 minutes. And then it started.
The post-game review. I remembered all the stupid, stupid, annoying, cringe-worthy, horrible, embarrassing words i had spouted. Nearly spitting like a cat at how ridiculous i sounded. "Hi! I was just wondering...", blah-de-blah-de-fucking stupid-blah, you're such an idiot. And i crossed the threshold of the shop, back out into Stephen's Green Shopping Centre, where sanity finally regained control of my spitting, terrified, humiliated brain. Then i went to Burger King
See! When i say nothing happens, i mean it. Meh. I still enjoy writing them. Peace out, y'all
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
Back to the tatt. I think you should opt for the dark red option, black is too generic. Red would definitely enhance all the drippy bits. Except you might wanna get this checked out: apparantly red ink is the only tattoo colour that occasionally people are allergic to. Personally i'm not but I wouldn't want you to be left with one itchy tattoo! Might want to ask in the tattoo group on here. Actually I might beat you to it. Yay, you like Candlemass
I keep doing this lately, keep writing what I want to write in my own blog in other people's... although come to think of it, I don't want people to read what I've just written here in my own blog.
Solitude is the best fucking doom song of all time.