Marc "Dude, I'm Fucking Sick of Driving"

Back in State College, again, for a night off, full of boozing, boozing, and if at all possible= tatooing (is that a word?). Scottie and I walked down to Totem Tatoos today, he with a spring in his step, me with a brick. I've got a design, but I'm just not sure if I have the balls. To be honest, I'm completely terrified of needles. I even cried before getting the immunity shots for high school. I'm not lying. I hate admitting it. As the story goes, I was an eighth grader, mowing a lawn down the street from my parents house, on the verge of a breakdown. Every time I passed a certain row of thorn bushes, I'd calmy walk right up to one, pull one thorn off, and shove it into my shoulder. Why? you ask. Because I was preparing myself for the six foot syring that they were going to stick somewhere on me, probably into the bottom of my foot, and coming out my left nostril. Either way, I knew it was going to hurt. After about four or five pricks from the bush, my Mom rolls up, tells me to turn off the lawnmower, throws me in the car, and drives me to the high school gymnaseum. By the time they sit me down in the chair, my eyes are puffy and red, and my breathing is erratic (at best). To be honest, the shots didn't hurt all that much, what pained me more was looking at the needle actually slide into my arm. Owwwwy.

So, that's why I'm indifferent about getting a tatoo today. If I would've gotten one- rad. Seeing as how I didn't- that's fine too. I know that I'll end up with one sooner or later, probably a huge dragon extending from my forehead, down the back of my neck. But luckily for me, it's not going to happen today.

And tour's going fine, too. In case you were wondering. Toledo, here we come.