So I got a tattoo.

It's a one and a half inch cresent moon in between my bicep and the, um, shoulder muscle. All black. I like it.

I don't know why I decided on today and right then, but this afternoon I realized that I really, really wanted to do it and soon. Like in two hours soon. So my little brother and his friend took me and gawked as the guy artistically mutilated my body.

I would just like to say that listening to the Snoop D-O-double G while getting inked is a bad idea as you will be attempting to work your groove thing. Not good. It is kinda cool that I got my first tattoo while Snoop was playing, though.

For the record, it didn't hurt. But I am weird and kinky and all that shit, so don't take my word for it.

In a couple weeks, I will be going to get a star band type thing on the other arm so I am all symmetrical. That is spelled wrong, isn't it? Eh. It is very important that things on my body are even to make up for the fact that one of my boobs is slightly smaller than the other. You may not notice it, but I do and that is what matters. And you had better not notice it. Pervert.

Now I am sitting in my living room with my hoodie on because my father is in a snarling mood and probably wouldn't be too happy that his only daughter has been defiled. This sucks. Maybe I'll tell him on Saturday. He can't be pissy for three days straight, can he?

Coincidentally, May? Wanna get shitfaced on Saturday? Yeah.

I should tell him that, hey, at least I didn't get PUNK RAWK 4 LIFE tattooed on my chest or anything. This is nothing, Dad. Really.

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