Sunday, March 8, 2009

No bull

It took me longer to think of a title for this post for two reasons.
1. The last time I posted, scrunchies were fashionable and Ronald Reagan was twiddling his thumbs in the White House. Perhaps not? It feels like it's been a long time.
2. Bull's get rings put through their noses so ignorant bastards can drag them along and make them charge at red sheets of cotton, sometimes a cotton/polyester combination.
I just got a nose ring. So the secret behind the title to this belated post is that no, I am no Bull.

I had Polly standing at the foot of what seemed like my coffin but was actually a bed for waxing and piercings. As the over-pierced woman wiped an alcohol swap on my nose I joked, 'smells like a Saturday night'. At the time I thought I was being ultra suave.
I shut my eyes, so did Polly. I hoped the piercer had hers open.
And in a matter of relatively painful moments it was all over. I walked up to the cash register and paid a women fifty four dollars to puncture my nose and fill the orifice with a 8mm sleeper ring.
With shaky hands I text messaged my dad, informing him of my latest rebellion. He replied 'You're out of the will!'
My Grandpa told me I looked hip.

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  1. love it :) finally! can't wait to see it. Love your writing telly tubby.

  2. it really did smell like a saturday night.
    you forgot to include the part about tess walking into the product stand.!

  3. haha! that is amazing. 'you're out of the will' is fairly standard in my house when it comes to any form of 'self mutilation' (tattoes, piercings etccc)
    it's good your grandpa digs it though. x

  4. you look like Amiel.

  5. aha sounds like something my dad would say, looks rad, suits you heaps!!