The Blues

She let out a long, aggravated sigh and whispered her fears into her lover's cold ear. The secrets fell into his grave, where the seeds of insecurity blossomed into a garden of soliloquy. "Forever is a long time to be alone."

Indy Gets Inked

So, to celebrate my new-found freedom, (I totally rid myself the tinman and everything to do with him)I decided to get the tattoo I have been wanting for about 4 years. I know it's rather nerdy, but if you have been reading me for any period of time you would know that I am quite a nerd. My Star Wars and X-men paraphernalia shrine may be posted later.

Indy being a moron, trying to mask my excitement/fear.


Indy, and her artist, Puff, gearing up for the impending inkage.


I get grumpy when men unbutton my jeans


Almost done!


GOOMBA!


Puff was very professional, which I was hoping for considering he would be camping out by my snatch for a little bit. The piercer kept on hitting on me and telling me how hot it would be to pull down a girl's pants and a goomba be staring at him. He told me that, and every new person that walked in, about fifty times. He brought several people in while I was getting my tattoo done and saying "Isn't that hot". Finally Puff started getting pissed and apologized for his co-workers "Man-whoreness". I like Puff.

I am very happy with Mr.Goomba, and he is healing quite nicely. He is flaking a bit, but the scabbing and swelling was minimal. I love him. I love being single. Indy is well pleased.

Maybe I Shouln't Drink Alone

Her merlot lips wrapped around the filter of her cigarette, sucking in the heated nicotine and my complete attention. She was talking to a man in a blue blazer, and khaki pants.

I never could respect the blue sports coat with the gold buttons look. It is so department store. "Here I am, a wealthy man, walking off my yacht with my perfectly pressed khakis and boating shoes. Admire me and my superior sense of fashion." Anyone who admires a man for his fashion sense is admiring him for the wrong reason. No man understands fashion, he can just emulate it. This guy was no different. I was sure he subscribed to every man's magazine, washed his face with what Maxim told him to, and jerked off to blondes with fake tits. He was classic, and she was captivating.



He was talking, and she was smiling in between puffs of poison. I probably looked like such a creepster watching this couple. Here I was, some girl at the bar, watching some couple at the bar, yearning for what they had, or that's what it looked like I'm sure. In reality, I was there doing exactly what I wanted to be doing, drinking. I was innocently guzzling down my sugar-free Red Bull and vodkas while the aforementioned woman sat down a couple stools down from me. Before you begin to judge me, I was there celebrating my new found freedom of mankind. Not the whole human race, mind you, just the ones with penises. I digress; so the lady sat down, ordered her fancy water and opened up her compact.



You have got to be fucking kidding me, I thought to myself. The people of Charlotte can be repulsively wealthy. I am not just saying that because I am poor either. Charlotte is a banking city, which means bankers. Bankers mean assholes in navy blue sports coats and pretty ladies in slinky dresses drinking Perrier.



I watched her check her lipstick on her perfect lips. Her middle finger traced the perimeter of her flawless mouth and I thought for a moment how it must feel to be her. She wore an emerald dress that hugged every bit of her tall frame just tight enough to not be trashy. She had long wavy red hair and blemishless porcelain skin. Ginger is the new blonde, folks. How did having a mutant gene become cool? I guess she caught me looking at her, and she smiled at me. She asked me for a light, and I responded with the cliche that I didn't smoke. She nodded and continued to mouth her expensive green bottle of water. The guy came a couple moments later and ordered scotch. I rolled my eyes and asked for another drink. I can be such a bitch sometimes. The man grabbed the woman's chin and planted a small kiss on her lips. She closed her eyes for a second and slowly smiled. He let out a delicate sigh and told her she wass beautiful. I watched all of this while trying not to look like I was watching.





Indantatia, blogger and bar ninja.



I couldn't hear what he was telling her, but she seemed completely interested in everything he had to say. He seemed jittery and self conscious, while she emanated only poise and confidence. What the fuck did she see in him? He scratched the back of his neck as he said something, and they laughed together. He rubbed her leg, and she took another puff. By now I am a voyeur. There is no way they haven't noticed me watching them like a bad movie. I just couldn't help but wonder what the chemistry was between them. They seemed so different. He asked for the tab, and handed the redhead a fifty dollar bill. I remember thinking that two scotches and a Perrier should not require a fifty, but maybe he was trying to impress her. He walked to the restroom and she stuck the bill in her gold clutch. The bartender placed the tab on the counter, and the ginger smiled in acknowledgment. The gentleman returned and whispered something to her while throwing his card on top of the bar. The woman stood up, smashed her cigarette butt into the ashtray and said, "That will cost you a lot more."



The woman walked away and shortly after the bartender returned the card to the man. He left, looking somewhat defeated.


And I thought to myself, so that's how he did it. Only in Charlotte.

Baby Idantatia

Whoever let me dress myself should have been shot.

Lermy, look at the lemmings you have created.

St.John/St.Thomas photos

As promised.

Where

In the world is Simon?

Mommy Dearest

Hi, my name is Shannon, and I do not want to be a mother.

From the reaction I usually get from people, I would have to say that this is one of my most controversial stances. It's pretty funny if you ask me. People are always offended when I say things like, "No, I am just too selfish to be a mother." I really do not understand why.

If I were to do anything good for the universe, it would be to not procreate. You see, I'm a decent person. I abide by the law. I pay taxes. I try to stay away from credit card debt, but none of these things really mean I should have a child. In reality, I even have a tiny bit of a maternal instinct. That tiny bit is completely eclipsed by my knowledge of the absolute truth that I should not have children. I know me better than you do, so don't tell me that I will grow out of it or it is against nature for a young woman to not desire to have a child of her own. I hear of women that ache for a child, and that's wonderful. I am glad there are people in this world who truly love children. I'm glad that these people can ooh and awe for what seems like hours over the sight of a child spitting up on itself. What they call cute, I call nauseating.

Please, don't get me started on how I feel on pregnancy. I'm not a big fan of symbiotic relationships. Fetuses are the biggest and most popular parasites. I would rather not think of some life-form sucking my nutrients through a fleshy tube. This is the thing that gets me. People always tell me that there is no way a woman cannot truly desire being a mother. I do not see how hard this is to disprove. Either I am not a woman, or I really do want children. Considering, I would rather throw myself down a flight of stairs than actually carry a child to term; I'm thinking I really don't want children. Also, I have ovaries, and I shower with myself daily. If anyone knows that I'm a woman, it would be me. Let me guarantee you. I am a woman.

I guess all of this is brought on by me living with my brother. He has a beautiful three year old daughter and a striking one year old boy. I love them a lot, no really. When my niece was born I never thought I would really attach myself to her. Soon she had me eating out of her hand like a domesticated fawn. I adore her. This does not make me want to have one of my own. In fact, after about two hours with her I am usually ready to hand her back and say "Thanks, I'll call again in a couple months". I'm really not a monster. I think I was just born without that gene that made me want to give birth to anything.

Don't tell me I'm just young. Don't tell me I need to keep my internal organs intact.

I promise you. I know what I'm doing.