Tattoo Time
Posted: Thu Apr 09, 2009 4:25
So I had an interesting Saturday night and now I've gotta get a tattoo. Naturally, it's gotta be something Keenish. Any ideas? So far I'm thinking a yorp and a dopefish, but I'm not sure how or whether they'll link yet.
Warning: The following contains drug references and is not suitable for lolcats under the age of 42 or Internet users.
We went out to a rave party a bit out of town, hosted by DJ Newmaniax, a friend of a cousin. Later in the night a few bongs came out, and I leeched myself a cone (which I only half finished). Either it was laced or someone spiked one of my drinks, because I soon found myself on one hell of a trip. No (visual) hallucinations, just a feeling of disembodiment, ridiculously distorted time, and the belief that I was dead and floating around as a ghost or afterlife denial construct. All my conversations felt Naked Lunch telepathic style, as though we were communicating directly from the subconscious (but the notes I took on my phone were basically normal, if drunken, communication), and I could feel a magnetic flow (for lack of a better term) between me and others as conversations came and went.
I rode home in the boot with my brother and one of our friends, due to the car being otherwise full (the same arrangement in which we had arrived). At this point a minute felt like half an hour and I was soon convinced the car had been hijacked and we were trapped heading to some other place (it didn't help that everyone walked off and left us in the boot for a couple of minutes, which I'd have found amusing had I only been drunk). After we emerged I thought I'd been in an accident and again the afterlife concept was going through my head.
Finally, everyone was inside and heading to bed, and I found myself unable to stop moving. If I was on a dancefloor I'd have fit right in. The five energy drinks I'd consumed throughout the day, a bad idea at the best of times, probably didn't help much here. Convinced that if I gave into the still lingering out of body sensation I'd not come back, I got my cousin to take me to the hospital. The car accident theory endured and now I believed I was in a coma and being attached to life support. Four superfun hours of drippage and chaotic emotional outbursts later, which would've been hilarious if it wasn't me, my heart rate finally dropped from 130 to under 100 and I emerged to get some sleep and tackle the ensuing hangover.
Anyway, long story short, this cousin has been doing tattoos for a year or so now. So my payment for making him sit around for four hours in a hospital room is being subject to an hour-for-hour set of tattoos.
Warning: The following contains drug references and is not suitable for lolcats under the age of 42 or Internet users.
We went out to a rave party a bit out of town, hosted by DJ Newmaniax, a friend of a cousin. Later in the night a few bongs came out, and I leeched myself a cone (which I only half finished). Either it was laced or someone spiked one of my drinks, because I soon found myself on one hell of a trip. No (visual) hallucinations, just a feeling of disembodiment, ridiculously distorted time, and the belief that I was dead and floating around as a ghost or afterlife denial construct. All my conversations felt Naked Lunch telepathic style, as though we were communicating directly from the subconscious (but the notes I took on my phone were basically normal, if drunken, communication), and I could feel a magnetic flow (for lack of a better term) between me and others as conversations came and went.
I rode home in the boot with my brother and one of our friends, due to the car being otherwise full (the same arrangement in which we had arrived). At this point a minute felt like half an hour and I was soon convinced the car had been hijacked and we were trapped heading to some other place (it didn't help that everyone walked off and left us in the boot for a couple of minutes, which I'd have found amusing had I only been drunk). After we emerged I thought I'd been in an accident and again the afterlife concept was going through my head.
Finally, everyone was inside and heading to bed, and I found myself unable to stop moving. If I was on a dancefloor I'd have fit right in. The five energy drinks I'd consumed throughout the day, a bad idea at the best of times, probably didn't help much here. Convinced that if I gave into the still lingering out of body sensation I'd not come back, I got my cousin to take me to the hospital. The car accident theory endured and now I believed I was in a coma and being attached to life support. Four superfun hours of drippage and chaotic emotional outbursts later, which would've been hilarious if it wasn't me, my heart rate finally dropped from 130 to under 100 and I emerged to get some sleep and tackle the ensuing hangover.
Anyway, long story short, this cousin has been doing tattoos for a year or so now. So my payment for making him sit around for four hours in a hospital room is being subject to an hour-for-hour set of tattoos.