blasted.

ugh.
duders,
it's high time i let y'all in on a little somethin'.
i haaaaaaaaaaaaate getting tattooed.
hard.
harder than ever, even.
every single time i get tattbombed, zapped, or blasted,
i get the shivery quivers,
the cold shakes,
and the achy breaks all over.
for the record,
it's hard to type
when you've got the tooth-chattering goosebumps.
so,
by now you know what i did today.
yuuuuuuuup.
good guess.
i did get hit up and lit up in portland, maine,
all tsunami tattoo-type family dopeness.
and i loved the atmosphere,
and i loved the company i kept,
but the knee/inner thigh/more knee hot fire?
hard hearted hate escaped my furnaces,
in between the grimaces and gut crunches.
and just what have i got to show for it?
shades of grey.
and a big missing part of the day.
that makes two days,
in a row,
of tons and tons of car rides,
eating up the miles and absolutely devouring my weekend.
now,
it's time to get basted with barbarian bouillon,
or at least some scalding shower water,
and suit up in my sweatshirt and socks,
and get ready to sh-sh-sh-shake it up.
***********
i'll leave you ninjas with a little bit of
my vicious, virtuous valkyrie vixens:

c'mon, neighbors,
that's what's up.
i don't know what was going on,
but i know what i like when i see it,
and my eyeballs are wide open;
never quiet, never soft.....