I had a very good day on Friday.
Since my good days are hard to find, I always like to write about them regardless of how few they may be.
First off, Friday's weather was just lovely. It started off a little nippy in the morning but unbeknownst to me (and the weather folks apparently) it turned out pretty good. I ducked out of work early to get my tattoo redone so already I was excited about that. A bit more excited than the tattooist (I refuse to call them artists, my personal opinion) but I suppose to him it must have felt like different day, different person, same ole tatt.
I also arrived a little earlier than my scheduled appointment and the ride gave me a chance to enjoy the warm weather caress my skin from my sunroof. Tattoo turned out great. Not too painful, not as arduous an experience as it was for the first one. The first time I had to sit there for almost 2 hours (for a simple 20 minute job) and inhale a mixture of stale blood and heated skin in their clammy office and have the receoptionist guy talk to me like I was some idiot and demand payment plus tip even before we got started. Gah, I could go on and on with all the things that went bad with this place. But I digress.
So back to Friday. It was over within an hour and some change from the moment I got there. I left there and on my way home bumped into this art gallery I had been meaning to go to for the longest time and in fact had planned to attend an opening a few hours later for a black and white exhibit. Good thing I bumped into it because this was about 8 miles from home. It would have hurt to go all the way home and have to come all the way back just to drink Trader Joe's wine with some cheese bits and pretend like this is some art opening in New York. Even better because the black and white photos were not that great and the gallery itself was minute, more like a carving, you had to hold your purse as you walked around so as not to knock around the other pieces of art.
From there, I proceeded to a nearby restaurant (they prefer the term: wine bar) to get some drinks to drown out the pain. I swear they rub you with stuff that makes it feel not so bad when they are working on you but the second the stuff wears out, instant pain, like a stinging pain. And at that time, alcohol is needed.
So two martinis and a delightful conversation with a couple of gay guys later, I was headed home. It was nice to leave work behind, enjoy a nice drive in the sun with no traffic, go get some ink (without any delay or stinky odors), to see some art, have a nice chat with total strangers, have decent conversations about art, food, wine, the city, life, etc with people as you sip martinis on a warm day just after you've gotten some fresh ink, what could be better than that? Perfect combination for a good day, I think.
Don't mind me I just celebrate the little stuff. But I will try that again, sometime this summer, duck out early and try to replay the events. May turn out the same, or better, or not at all. Who knows with these things?
Since my good days are hard to find, I always like to write about them regardless of how few they may be.
First off, Friday's weather was just lovely. It started off a little nippy in the morning but unbeknownst to me (and the weather folks apparently) it turned out pretty good. I ducked out of work early to get my tattoo redone so already I was excited about that. A bit more excited than the tattooist (I refuse to call them artists, my personal opinion) but I suppose to him it must have felt like different day, different person, same ole tatt.
I also arrived a little earlier than my scheduled appointment and the ride gave me a chance to enjoy the warm weather caress my skin from my sunroof. Tattoo turned out great. Not too painful, not as arduous an experience as it was for the first one. The first time I had to sit there for almost 2 hours (for a simple 20 minute job) and inhale a mixture of stale blood and heated skin in their clammy office and have the receoptionist guy talk to me like I was some idiot and demand payment plus tip even before we got started. Gah, I could go on and on with all the things that went bad with this place. But I digress.
So back to Friday. It was over within an hour and some change from the moment I got there. I left there and on my way home bumped into this art gallery I had been meaning to go to for the longest time and in fact had planned to attend an opening a few hours later for a black and white exhibit. Good thing I bumped into it because this was about 8 miles from home. It would have hurt to go all the way home and have to come all the way back just to drink Trader Joe's wine with some cheese bits and pretend like this is some art opening in New York. Even better because the black and white photos were not that great and the gallery itself was minute, more like a carving, you had to hold your purse as you walked around so as not to knock around the other pieces of art.
From there, I proceeded to a nearby restaurant (they prefer the term: wine bar) to get some drinks to drown out the pain. I swear they rub you with stuff that makes it feel not so bad when they are working on you but the second the stuff wears out, instant pain, like a stinging pain. And at that time, alcohol is needed.
So two martinis and a delightful conversation with a couple of gay guys later, I was headed home. It was nice to leave work behind, enjoy a nice drive in the sun with no traffic, go get some ink (without any delay or stinky odors), to see some art, have a nice chat with total strangers, have decent conversations about art, food, wine, the city, life, etc with people as you sip martinis on a warm day just after you've gotten some fresh ink, what could be better than that? Perfect combination for a good day, I think.
Don't mind me I just celebrate the little stuff. But I will try that again, sometime this summer, duck out early and try to replay the events. May turn out the same, or better, or not at all. Who knows with these things?
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