reading:
John Bowe (ed): Gig: Americans Talk About Their Jobs
Gail Simone: Birds of Prey
Sarah Vowell: Take the Cannoli
Howard Zinn: People's History of the U.S.
It's not like I have to get it on my forehead -- somewhere discreet will be fine
In all documentation, I'll be officially referred to as a "word"
I could stop feeling guilty for a few months about not donating blood
If I die before Shelley Jackson does, she'll come to my funeral -- and I worry about attendance volume at times.
Doing her connect-the-dots puzzle not only entertained me mightily one lazy summer afternoon, but continues to delight, amaze, and disturb visitors to my room from its vantage point on my bulletin board.
It means that I would become a part of a work of art, which would go a long way towards staving off that nihilistic crisis of mine
Okay. Let's say that ten years from now, I'm fulfilling my destiny as a boozehound layabout with loose morals. As I drag yet another one-night-stand back from the seedy bar to my seedier apartment, however, I'm forced to brace myself for the inevitable question: "Hey, why do you have AND tattooed on your ass?"
Because without a doubt, I will end up with the word AND. Or IS. Or THE.
Actually, wait. That's almost kinda cool.
But they'd have to use NEEDLES?!?
In the end, it all comes down to first impressions. And I thought this idea was just too awesome for words (gah, puns) when I first heard about it, but figured that she'd be overloaded with participants and there was no point in trying. So I didn't think about it.
Now? Now, I'm actually thinking about it. Because it really is kinda awesome.