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August 9th, 2005

The greatest thing about being thirty ...

The best thing about getting older is that you have permission to do all those things everyone said you'd regret when you got older. Don't worry. This is the last minor third-life crisis impulse I plan to indulge, so my parents can quit hyperventilating now.

So yeah. Yesterday afternoon, on the way home from work, I went and got my nostril pierced. Why? The reasons are many and varied, but can be boiled down to this: I've always thought it would be pretty.

By way of a little more exposition ... I spent years lamenting the unprettiness of my long, bumpy nose* before I came to terms with it ... and now, I thought I'd do something pretty for it -- both to punish it for giving me so much grief and to decorate it with a conquering rhinestone flag. So now it has a tiny lavender crystal implanted on its left side. To say the least, I think it's too cute for words. It's tiny, discreet, understated, and just a touch girlie -- the sort of thing that people don't notice much, except to ask me if I cut my hair or something. I'm very pleased with it, and very proud of myself for going through with it.

That having been established, if I'd had any idea how badly it would hurt I would have never done it in a million years.

Lest there be any confusion, this was NOT the fault of the piercer - Sto, the guy who owns/runs(?) Standard Ink down on Frasier Avenue. He did a marvelous job. He was speedy and professional, with a touch of genuinely friendly. Thus far, I have had nothing but stellar experiences at Standard Ink, and I recommend them from the bottom of my heart.

No, the problem was with me. As many of you know, I have a little issue with needles. But I was fresh off my "whoo-eee! I just got another tattoo and I can do anything!" high; so I thought, "heck, if I can sit through another hour of inky drawing, I can handle a quickie nip through the nose." Right?

In fact, I did not handle it quite so well. When Sto brought out the railroad spike needle it was all I could do not to whimper and flee. But I didn't. And the result was a left eye that still gets runny every time I think about it, plus a mortifying sneeze-propelled shower of reactionary snot.
    Me: [:: through blindingly teared up eyes ::] Oh man -- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drool snot everywhere.
    Sto: Oh, no biggie. That's not snot. It's blood.
    Me: [:: genuinely relieved ::] Whew! That's way less embarrassing than snot!
Bleeding and reflexive crying aside, that thing hurt like a sonofabitch -- just for a second, sure, but MAN. Ow. Owie ow ow. I'd rather sit through another hour of tattooing any day of the week than do that again, so you know I'm taking super-plus-good care of it. I will NOT have this getting infected or requiring removal. And right now, it feels all right. It was sore for an hour or two after the fact; but now it's all good. It's not even swollen, and could only be described a "a little sensitive."

I'm sure that, given time, I'll quit seeing this pretty little nostril screw at all -- but for right now I'm still in [:: shoves nostril towards audience ::] "Lookit this cool thing I got on my face!" mode, and I simply can't restrain myself.

[:: does a little twirlie ::]

* The mother of one particularly wealthy and crazy ex-significant other of mine actually offered to buy me a nose job as a wedding present, in the event that I ever married into her family. She made no bones about the fact that it was for her sake as well as mine.

And in other news ...

My postal service representative is moron. Yesterday he (I know it's a man) crammed my package from Gallery Serpentine into my tiny metal tube of a mailbox downstairs. Since the box locks behind the postman, I spent nearly ten minutes trying to open the damn thing. This is because that jerk stuffed one of these into a rectangular space about the size of a large wallet. I'd seriously like to beat that man with a stick.

On the upshot, though -- hey, new corset! And she's a beauty. I may need feminine assistance getting the thing on properly [:: bats eyelashes at Spider ::] but even with my own fumbly efforts it looks great and I'm thrilled silly with it. DragonCon, here we come!

* * * * *

But in other news -- you know, because there's always at least one more dog -- I was wondering if there's anyone reading in the Panama City, Florida, area who might be interested in taking in a lovely old dog. One of my readers yesterday offered to take the pit puppy if he could be transported that far (he couldn't, but that's okay), and mentioned that she's been fostering another animal. This poor old poochie is a 15 year old neutered male Sheltie mix, blind from cataracts, who was dumped at the local humane society because his owner went into a nursing home. Someone there took pity on the dog and rescued him, but he really needs a proper home to live out his days.

He's lovable and quiet, and though he is a gentleman about small children, they make him nervous. This poor animal, I feel so sorry for him. No one wants to take him in because of his advanced age and his blindness, but if there's anyone out there who could give him a soft spot to land, please drop a comment here or send me an email [cherie.priest @ gmail.com].

* * * * *

So ... yesterday. What a great day all around. Yesterday's puppy may have landed a home [:: crosses fingers ::], I let a nice man stab me in the nose and got pretty jewelry for it, my corset arrived from Australia ... AND ... my new website was finally brought up to snuff and sent live.

That's right! All Greg's hard work and my relentless pestering have paid off, and now is the time for you, my beloved readers, to go make with the clicky. Go on. take a look around. Tell me how you feel about it. Read the introductory post before you ask questions.

CheriePriest.com. Up and running.
P.S. -- Greg is the man.

* * * * *

And now, I simply MUST get some work done.
Yes, well. You know how it is.


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