This week my brain is not working. Despite the coffee I’ve been pouring down my throat everything feels like it’s running at half speed. I’m distracted by next week’s flight plans and my short layover time at Dulles Airport (is an hour enough time to get to my connecting flight? I DON’T KNOW) and my recent plan change regarding checking luggage as a result of the short layover time. The plan change being that I will not be checking luggage, just to be safe. Also worrying about Jeremy remembering to get someone to watch Oliver if he (Jeremy, not Oliver) has to travel while I’m away, and worrying that if Jeremy does DIY work on the house while I’m away there will be no one to spot him if he uses a ladder and what if he falls and hits his head? Nobody would know for days!
All this compounded by a fruitless trip to Zone 6 (ZONE 6!!) for work that was a massive waste of time, and a house that still refuses to clean itself and I am just feeling . . . I don’t know, sort of off kilter and not quite functional.
Perhaps I need more coffee
I had to threaten a man with bodily harm this weekend. I had no choice in the matter, truly.
It all came about on Saturday morning, I was walking from the greengrocer’s to another grocery shop where I get my dry goods when I ran into a couple friends. We stopped to talk and I got all giddy and was like, look at my leg I have a new wonderful tattoo! As you may have guessed, this scenario has been repeated often since Thursday.
So I was showing them the tattoo and explaining where the old one was and how it was horrible and an embarrassment to tattoos everywhere which is why they hadn’t seen it before when a Southwark Council street cleaner came up to take a look. Which was a little weird, but whatever I accept that I was on a public street flashing my calf with wild and reckless abandon. BUT THEN dude reached out and tried to touch my still red and somewhat painful new tattoo. I yanked my leg back and said, with a supposedly good-natured smile, “Do it and I will punch you in the face.” He pulled his hand back and looked at me in confusion.
“That is brand new and still healing,” I said, “I am serious, I will punch you.”
He considered his options and said, “Well, since I don’t want to take a punch . . .” and walked off.
But seriously, why would he think it was okay to touch a stranger’s leg anyhow? I don’t mind that he wanted to take a look, but getting all handsy when we haven’t even been introduced is presuming too much.
All that said, I’m glad I didn’t have to punch him, my upper body strength leaves a lot to be desired and I don’t think it would have felt like much more than a tap.
This photo is not great, I will post a better one soonish, but, isn’t it great? I love my new tattoo a lot. A lot, a lot.
The atrocity is hidden under the shorter sprig just above the leaf that crosses over, and you can’t see it at all!
Seriously, it’s really great and even though it hurt a bunch I still love it.
So this is what I’ve got right now. Tomorrow afternoon it will be as if it never existed.
Things I won’t do with my new tattoo include, putting plastic wrap over it, using neosporin on it, or letting it get terribly, terribly infected so that it becomes a horrible embarrassment like the image to the left
I am meeting with the tattoo artist today to discuss the design of my new tattoo. My belly is going blurgal blurg blurg blegurg.
What does it say about me that I’ve found the blog of someone I knew once upon a time, someone I did not end on good terms with, and the thing that concerns me the most is not the poor grammar or spelling(we’re talking about his poor grammar and spelling here, not mine. Run on sentences? WHAT run on sentences?), the apparent state of his life (which is fine), or the weird sex jokes (which are weird), but rather the misuse and basic misunderstanding of an REM song? And I know, I know, REM songs can be pretty vague, that’s half the fun, but EVERYONE knows that Losing My Religion isn’t actually about religion, it’s about losing your cool / temper. I have seen and read multiple interviews about this. Also, wikipedia says so, so it MUST be true.
Clearly, the time I spent with this character was an exercise in futility.
Not that I care or anything.
I had a very nice weekend.
Jeremy and I did lots of fun stuff because we were both in London all weekend and we didn’t have to rebuild a fence or do lots of chores or anything stupid like that. Well, we probably should have done more laundry and cleaning, but we didn’t. Instead we did the following:
- Went to the visit Jeremy’s Vespa in Bow where it is being repainted and repaired at Project 13
- The guys at Project 13 suggested that we go to the Mason Arms for foods and we did and it was delicious.
- Then we headed into town and saw some of the London Open Day buildings. I particularly enjoyed St Mary Abchurch.
- Watched skateboarders and St Paul’s doing tricks, Jeremy became wistful, as he often does when watching skaters do tricks.
- One of the skaters was very tall with floppy hair and a mustache. It was like he took a time machine back to 1992 and copied my brother’s style. I was amazed.
- From there it was on to meet friends at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese (pronounced Yee Oldie Cheshirie Cheesy) for drinks and dinner. YOCC claims to be the oldest pub in all of London. A bold and unprovable claim.
- Then on to Cittie of Yorke which, honestly, could use a ye olde in its name as well.
- Then home where we fell fast asleep
- On Sunday we headed off to Shoreditch and at breakfast at The Book Club (I had cheese on toast, bacon, a bloody mary and a coffee. Thumbs up)
- And then we realised it was design week in London as well so we stopped at lots of galleries and a cart full of free bits from these guys and took away a couple items to play around with. More on that later.
- Braved Brick Lane on a Sunday (Ack!) to get to this market near the Old Truman Brewery (Not the UpMarket though we went there too, the other one) because we were looking for an artist whose work we saw at the Pure Evil Gallery (which despite the name is actually run by a really nice guy)
- And we found him at said market. His name is Gustavo Ortiz and this is some of his work. We bought three pieces and I love them all.
- Then we went to Hanoi Cafe for Vietnamese food and did not, I repeat, DID not punch the posh ass face at the next table who actually said, ‘Oh yes, I loved Malaysia, but I did get a little bored by the last two days of my trip there.’ Seriously, posho? That’s how you want to be out in public where people who have never been to Malaysia can overhear you? Please die, soon.
- Then home again to prepare for the week ahead.
- Also of note: tickets back to Detroit were purchased, Oliver’s still on antibiotics, but only for one more day, Ivan the kitten who sadly does not live in our house DID greet us in the dining room when we came home, we saw Scott Pilgrim vs The World, and ate at Frank’s Campari Bar where they make a lovely Tom Collins.
It was a very nice weekend, the kind that makes me fall back in love with London after slew of busy tiring weeks.