Fear and (self) loathing in the tattoo parlor

Fear-and-Loathing-In-Las-Vegas-6301As a teenager in the suburbs, there’s not a ton to do. Most kids wind up committing to being jocks or scholars shooting for the Ivy League purely from lack of diverse choices alone. Others just float along and enjoy youth, aka, look for trouble.

The laminate on my driver’s license barely formed a seal before I sped to the gas station to buy a pack of cigarettes. I’d never smoked before – not even just pretending to inhale – but I was an unsupervised, restless teenager who wanted to breathe fire. And in the 90’s, carding for cigarettes really wasn’t a thing. After all, most of the people working at gas stations were classmates from my high school. Continue reading

Just my two cents

crazy-eyesAdvice to those thinking about settling down?
Marry an orphan – you’ll thank me at the holidays.

Advice to someone whose boss treats him like a clown?
Life’s too short. Sooner than later you should part ways.

Advice to someone who feels restless, confused and lost?
Call your best buddy and then buy a Powerball ticket.

Advice to someone whose friend takes advantage at any cost?
Friendship is a two way street – tell ’em where to stick it.

Advice to someone who takes advice from a stranger on the internet?
That’s pretty silly; you probably shouldn’t do that.