DistortedSmile
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Hometown(s)
Woodstock, Saugerties, New York City, Cork, Prattville, Ocala, Tampa, Kingston, Lake Katrine, Manhattan
Companies
Oracle Tattooing, Bruce Bart Tattooing, Pat's Tats, Black Sun Ink, Toys R Us, Werner Enterprises, Dark Imagery Body Art, Fat Kats Body Art, Inkman Dans, CELADON Corp., Woodstock Theatrical Group, Ulster Performing Arts Centre
Schools
Homeschool, Mount Marion Elementary, Saugerties High School, Ulster County Community College, BOCES, SUNY of Albany, Central Florida Community College, Hastings Central Community College
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ATTENTION PEOPLE! It has been brought to my attention that there are a group of US Marines based from Great Lakes Naval Base, now deployed in Iraq , who are not getting any mail. Not a note, not a love letter, not a care package has been received by them. Retired Marine and dear friend Marty Smith has been in communication with Col. Curt Ames, USMC, and according to Col. Ames' contact in Iraq, these Marines never get any mail. I was asked to "drum up some business" for these outstanding Americans. I know that from past requests like this one, many of you have stepped up beyond anyone's imagination and delivered "big time" to our heroes overseas. Well, ... I am asking for support again. Their names are ... Cpl Adams, Michael D Sgt Bleuer, Cassandra D Cpl Calderon, Jose Cpl Camp, Jesse S Sgt Carson, William R Cpl Finney, Bryan D Cpl Greenblatt, Justin M LCpl Larose, Katie L Cpl Magallon, Felipe D Cpl McFalls, Williams H Sgt Morales, Francisco Cpl Morris, Eric D Cpl Salais, Zuzi E LCpl Warda, William D LCpl Zhevakina, Yelena S They are all at the same address; just write their name above the below address. MTACS-38, MACG-38, 3D MAW (FWD) UIC 41126 FPO, AP, 96426-1126 Lee Hollrah, Past Commandant Dept. of MO Marine Corps League P. O. Box 871 St. Peters, MO 63376 Phone # (636) 244-4407
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And The Reasons Why They're Reasons.In the spirit of St. Patrick's Day, here are 15 reasons why I am proud to be Irish....Beannachtai na Feile Padraig!
- Tuatha De Danann : They were the first people to come to Ireland....The legend is shrouded in myth and mystery, but history says that they came to Ireland by ship and then burned their ships so they wouldn't be tempted to go back home. They released a swarm of bees and watched where they settled so that they could find their home. That place ended up being Tipperary (my maternal side's birthplace). The Tuatha De Danann were some of the first true fighters and leaders of Ireland.
- The Celts : Even though "Celt" means "barbarian", the Celts had a deep reverance for the law, storytelling, education and the arts. They were many races brought together under a mutual love for conquest. They were some of the first to domesticate horses and were ingenious in metalworking (they invented chain mail). Personally, my favourite thing about the Celts was their absolute need for individuality: each member took great care to adorn themselves with jewelry, permanent tattoos and paint to easily identify themselves from other members of their tribes.
- Gaeilge : The Irish language....It's the oldest written vernacular in Europe and was the primary language spoken in Ireland until the 19th century. It's complex and beautiful....And it's a language I was taught even before I was taught many words in English.
- The Book of Kells : Being an artist, I can appreciate complex works of art....But the Book of Kells surpasses anything ever drawn in 800 AD. It managed to survive time and is a standing monument to all that is Irish....Colourful, poetic, intricate, complex and astounding.
- Grania : Grace O'Malley was one of the few pirate queens to survive her occupation...Supposedly my family is related to hers in a more direct way, but I can't confirm that. However, if it's true, it would be her I have to thank for my sense of adventure, love of the seas and indispensable love for the word "argh". (Just messing about that last one.)
- Irish Curses : Americans have "fuck", "shit" and "goddamnit". Most other countries have those same curses in their own respective languages. Ireland, on the other hand, has such curses as "May the Devil swallow him sideways and choke on his pecker." And we can't forget the old standby, "May he be afflicted with the rot, may the worms take his eyes and the crows pluck out his entrails; but may he stay alive until we're sick of the sight of him." Ahhh, 'tis poetry in motion.
- The Emigrants : Between 1845 and 1891, over 3 million Irish came to America, fleeing the Great Hunger and other forms of persecution.....They crowded aboard coffin ships and took their chances in America. It's just too bad America didn't treat them much better: after surviving disease-ridden ships, many were sick, most were poor and hardly any of them had any skills the Americans wanted. No sooner had they left the ships when people started to rob them of what little posessions they had. Signs of "Irish Need Not Apply" hung in the windows of New York City and Boston....But I'm proud of them all for standing against the odds. They became policemen, politicians, boxers (Gene Tunney, Jack Doyle and my grandfather sparred together back in the day), farmers and soldiers.
- The Building of America : You might ask what I'm talking about....But think: Before the Irish came to America escaping famine, there were only 3 thousand miles of railroad tracks. Irish Immigrants, looking for work in whatever shape they could find it, helped lay in 20 years time 30,000 miles of tracks. When Chicago burned in 1871, it was mostly Irish hands that rebuilt it. Many Irish died in a grave of cement while buiding this country's dams, bridges, canals and roads.
- James Joyce : If I really need to explain this one, you really need to go back and finish up high school.
- Sinn Fein : An Irish Nationalist society formed in 1902, their goal was to gain Irish independence from Britain, to promote native Irish culture and to encourage the continued use of the Irish language. The Easter Rising was spurned on by them and the British effectively surpressed that rebellion, carrying out systematic executions....Not realizing they created martyrs to the Cause. In 1918, 73 Sinn Fein members were promoted to Parliament and they declared Ireland's independence. Until the late 60's, early 70's, Sinn Fein wasn't very active, but it reemerged as the political branch of the Irish Republican Army. They eventually were banned from negotiations with the British because they refused to condemn the acts of the IRA. Much more progress has been made since then....And I'm proud that my family has had active members in its society since its founding.
- Bobby Sands : Back in the day when Irish political prisoners and protestors were being treated and thrown into prison as war criminals, there was one man who started a revolution from the depths of an H-block cell. Bobby Sands was arrested and treated terribly by his captors for many days....His response was to eat nothing but drink water until he and his fellow prisoners were identified as political prisoners and moved from the hell-holes they were in. He wrote accounts of his days in prison, wrote poetry and told of plans for a better system right up until his last day....When he died of hunger for his Cause. The hunger strike provoked a strong reaction in the Irish people, but unfortunately didn't cause the same in the British - more people died of hunger before the problem was resolved. However, Bobby Sands still stands in the mind as one of great resolve, fervor and passion for the things he believed in. After all, how many people do you know are willing to die for something they believe in? These days, it's more rare than you might want to think.
- Hurling : Terribly under-rated, hurling is my favourite sport. It's fast, it's furious, it's violent - and it's very, very Irish. According to legend, the mythical warrior Cuchulain and other champions of old were excellent hurlers. It's been played in Ireland since long before recorded history. Each team consists of 15 players, and they play on a field set up similar to a football (soccer) field. A slitter (ball) is caught on a hurley (stick) and hurled to the goal that is placed on either end of the field. Three points are scored when the slitter goes into the net and one point if its hurled between the goal posts but over the crossbar. Its really the only sport that makes me more excited than I am to see the Red Sox beat the living snot out of the Yankees.
- Dancing : Yeats calls Irish traditional dancing "the ice of body and the fire of feet". Most people today think of Riverdancing, but it's really all of that and so much more. The original Celts used to take great pride in intricate dance patterns and performed with bare feet between sharp swords laid in a cross on the ground. Today, though, the swords are taken away and the costumes are a sight to behold - most of the dance costumes are made by the dancers themselves....Girls wear dresses in velvet and satin, all adorned with patterns taken from the Book of Kells (usually)...And the boys wear kilts, shirts, ties and jackets. It really is a more difficult dance than it looks and takes many years to perfect....But it is also very satisfying (one your ankles stop bleeding.)
- Irish Wakes : My friend once went to a family funeral with me...Afterwards, he told me that he found it to be disrespectful to the dead, there was too much drinking, too much smoking, conversation that was inappropriate to the situation and the fights! Let's not talk about the fights!
What he didn't understand was that hospitality is as essential to the Irish soul as much, dancing, good food and drink, lively conversations and political debate. So its only natural that a man's or woman's final extension of hospitality would be to treat friends and family to a party involving all of those elements! An Irish wake is the best place to put down a pint, tell a story, do a jig, and, yes, political debate will still raise the ire and a few fists may fly....But, they could only be expected to celebrate death just as vigorously as they celebrate life!
- Irish-American Cops : My father being one of the newer generation (1970s - present) of Irish-American NYPD, this holds especially true to me. The Irish have a natural sense of law and legal matters and a passion for justice....This translates well into the field of policemen and justices, of which my father has been both. If you have the chance to read any police roster, whether it be city or county, you will find an astounding number of cops whose last names start with O' or Mac (my father among them, again). Law enforcement is a family tradition with most Irish families....And if I weren't preoccupied with a hundred other occupation, I would (and more than likely will) take up my own position in the police force. Right now, the police commissioner of Philly is an Irish native (John Timoney of Dublin). He used to be the commissioner of the NYPD and a friend of my fathers. Irish sons and daughters have kept the peace for decades....And it's just one more reason to be proud to be Irish.
I had a helluva time reducing this list to 15....Initially, I started out with 85 and realized, "No one is going to sit through all that." So I hope the 15 I managed to whittle it down to got you to thinking about your own heritage....or maybe share in my own.
- Tara
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Hey guys... After a long Bolt hiatus, I can almost say that I am rarely ever going to hit the internet with the fervor I did last year and the previous years before that. I'm done having my time consumed by a plethora of irritating, yet fascinating, pixels. Having said that, my life is starting to resemble a Celtic knot....It keeps twisting, turning, overlapping, undermining, looping into unpredictable, neverending lines....It's so hectic, yet the picture from outside is very stunning. I am still working at the 75 Chrome Shop and, though I am in dire need of a dollar or two raise, I am enjoying the time I spend there. Many truck drivers still recognize me as "that trucker girl" or the "tattoo artist chick", but they've been having a hard time of recognizing me at all lately....I must have changed my hair colour five times this past month alone. Right now, it's white. Last week, it was hot pink. The week before that black, a few days before that it was brown and - lo and behold - four weeks before today it was it's natural red colour. Why? I don't know. Maybe I am on a mission to see how many dyes it can take before it falls out. I hear that whole bald-headed thing has become fashionable, thanks to Britney "I have lice and mental problems" Spears. In another month or so, I will be moving out of my apartment and into a nice, three bedroom house. I am definitely renting it, as I don't plan on living my life out in "Sunny" (*hack*) Florida. Freight comes here to die, people come here to die, but me - I'm just here for the postcards. Other than that....Look for a few more pictures to be uploaded. Nothing fancy and probably no photography....My scanner is on the blitz and I am still forsaking digital cameras. Shame, shame, shame. If any of you are ever passing by on Interstate 75 in Florida, come on into the Chrome Shop and see me. I've nothing better to do than make stickers for people. - Tará
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....and it's only a list because I am too lazy (and tired) to elaborate: - Punk died. =(( My buddy!
- Found a box of four 5-week old kittens on the side of the road on Christmas Eve. (pictures to be uploaded soon.) Decided to keep them all.
- Still loving my job....Doing a bunch of special projects on some big rigs and am booked up until summer with airbrushing jobs.
- Moved. (Again. Restless soul. Gettin' some of my gypsy back in gear.)
- Have a boat. Now I go bass fishing in mornings and catfishing in the evenings.
- Almost got eaten by a ________ while camping. (Fill in the blank with either "Florida panther", "alligator", "rabid pack of mosquitos" to your liking...All of them have happened to me this past month.)
- Swam with manatees. Unfortunately, I panicked when the first one brushed against my leg....Thinking it was a 'gator, I hopped out of the water so fast I was a blur.....Realized what they were and went back in.
- Bought another El Camino. (Gah.)
- Airbrushed one of my El Caminos into a WWII bomber, complete with pinup girl, matte grey finish, airbrushed bullet holes, seams taken out and replaced with rivets and, yes, even crossed out Japanese flags. (Hey, I hate imports, alright? Gimme a break.) All done by my hand.
So far so good... - Tara
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...Found this in my old MySpace account.... Saturday, March 05, 2005
Strange Dream
Current mood: blank
I just woke up from what has to be my most disturbing dream ever. I woke up crying, but I'm not quite sure why.
The dream started a few months before Johnny died. I had found out I was pregnant with his child and decided to temporarily leave the band. They brought in Ash as the guitarist who would replace me until later on. Time slips by (as it does a lot in dreams) and it's the day that Johnny is going to die...I'm in the hospital, in labour, and have the kid and while I'm holding him for the first time, Jake (our old bassist) calls me up to tell me that Johnny was killed in a crash - that the funeral was to be in a couple of days. I didn't tell him I just got through having a baby....I named the kid Johnny Matthews, after his dad, never showed up at the funeral because I had a newborn to take care of and went into hiding after that. I didn't speak to Jake or Clif (drummer) again. I didn't know this in the dream, but they had both parted and went into hiding as well.
As it turns out, after the band was forced to break up because it lost it's lead singer, it had developed some sort of cult status with it's remaining fans. They wondered where the other members had gone - they knew the lead singer was dead, but where were the other three? Whatever happened to that girl guitarist and the drummer and bassist? As the years pass by, the fans never forgot...Eventually, Broken Circle turned into a legend across the world. They couldn't find any members, only a few of the lyrics remained on some bad bootlegs recorded years ago and what WAS left, was treated as gold. The songs were analyzed in Harvard and other prestigious colleges across the country - it was almost as difficult to discern as Latin to the professors. And the story carried on for years.
In the meanwhile, I was raising a son without his father. When he was a baby and a kid, I'd sing him to sleep with one of the band's songs....The little Johnny's favourite being something called "Tell Me A Story" - which was a love song his father had written for me. I brought the kid up thinking that his father was nothing but an underpaid newspaper journalist, so that we would be able to stay in hiding and I'd be able to raise my son right, without having cameras in our face 24/7. But I still sang the songs to him at night and throughout the day - the boy didn't think anything of them as he got older, even as a teenager, because they were just songs that every mother must have sang to their sons. Or so he thought.
When my son turned 24 (same age as the first Johnny was when he died), he'd turned himself into a pretty decent guitarist and had a great singing voice...Almost exactly like his dad's.
In a couple of months, I got a call from Jimmy Page (who was still alive as ever and still in Led Zeppelin) and Gene Simmons (ditto) asking a favour. They wanted to do a concert in New York...They just wanted it to be a thing where everyone thought it was just a gather of the oldest and coolest rock bands on the planet (KISS, Led Zeppelin, Rolling Stones & Van Halen - all with the original members who hadn't aged another day). It would get a lot of publicity, but there was another plot to the story. Jimmy cued me in and I was apprehensive at first, but I gave in at the end.
Now at this point in the dream, I had no idea what was going to happen. But the old-time rock bands gathered together their troops and let loose a news release that got the world pretty excited about the concert. My son heard about it - and begged that we go. "Mom, I don't have a girlfriend...I'd rather go with someone I love anyway. Let's go together." I agreed - after all, him going to this concert was part of the plan.
The day of the concert comes - everyone is excited to see Led Zeppelin and the Stones and all that. But I was more worried about something. I walked with Johnny to the back of the concert venue and he was wondering where we were going - the front doors were the other direction. I told the security guard at the back a name and he let us through without question. In an instant, I was the coolest mom to my son - but he had no idea yet.
I walk down the hall and reach a door - inside is Jimmy Page and Ace Frehley...So i say, "Hey guys. Look, this is my son Johnny. Hey, J - You want to hang out with them for a minute while I go look for someone?" Of course, Johnny is looking at me like I've either lost my mind or that I'm going to turn around and tell him I was a groupie in a former life - but he agrees to hang out with them. He might only be 24, but he's not stupid to pass up a chance to talk with these guys.
I leave him there and continue on down the hall....Door after door goes by until I reach the one I was looking for. A door with the scrawled intials: "BC". I open it up - and in there is Jake and Clif. Who, after 24 years, like myself, hadn't aged a single day. There are a lot of tears and hugging and "Where've you been?"s. I told them that I was sorry for not letting them know where I was and they brushed it off....Clif and Jake hadn't spoken in 24 years either. No one had. We were just glad we were altogether again.
Once we got settled down Jake asked me, "What the hell are we doing here? Clif got an invitation to be backstage from Ace and I got a call from Jagger saying that we had to be here. They said you were coming, but why the reunion now? We could have done this on any normal day of the week."
And that's when I told them: The big bands got together for us. They wanted to bring back Broken Circle in a way that no one had been able to do in the last 24 years. They would play this sold-out concert and just when the audience thought the last band was leaving the stage, someone would announce they they have just one more act left. Introduce us, and the legend becomes a reality instead of turning into a myth. We'd be back.
Clif said, "Tará....That's great and all. I would love nothing but to get back to playing music for a living. I know people have waited forever for something like this. But we can't do it. We don't have our singer and if we brought someone new out there, they'd realize and we'd fade away." Jake agreed.
I said, "That's where you're wrong....I--" And, perfectly-timed, I got a knock on the door. I went over, cracked it open a bit to see who it was, said "hang on a minute"...Turned back to Jake & Clif and said, "Guys...The reason I wasn't at Johnny's funeral was because I was taking care of my baby. I want you both to meet someone - my son. Johnny Matthews." I opened the door. Both of their jaws dropped, they paled about ten shades and my son looked lost as ever.
I turned to Johnny and said, "Look. There's a reason you don't know much about your father. I promised I'd tell you and now's the time. You know that legendary band that everyone has a love for? The one that disappeared entirely the year you were born?"
"Yeah," he claimed. "Broken Circle. Everyone I went to school with talked about constantly."
"I'm the guitarist. The original one, not the one who died, obviously. Your father was the lead singer. And Jake & Clif here - they're the bassist and drummer, respectively."
Now everyone's jaws were dropped except for mine. Jake asked me if Johnny was real...He looked exactly like our old friend, sounded like him and even walked like him. After I convinced them of it, I told them that he could sing just like Johnny and play guitar well enough.....AND that he knows all of our old songs. I asked my son how he'd like to be the lead singer of this legendary band and continue on the tradition, he said of course, and the band was together again.
Later on in the concert, Gene Simmons stays onstage (KISS was the last act) and he says: "Thank you. Thank you all. That was a great concert, huh? [[applause]] Alright, well - I know we were the last band on your programme, but we've got some very special people here for you tonight. [[crowd quieted down]] They're a band that is so legendary that they've survived almost a quarter of a century without anyone having heard them in that time. They were never seen..."
As his introduction speech went on, the crowd was whispering things like, "Is he talking about who I'm thinking he's talking about?" People who were watching from across the globe on their TV sets were calling their relatives in to the living room with, "MOM! DAD! GRANDMA! Get in here....I think they're going to bring out Broken Circle!" For the last few seconds that Gene was talking, it seemed like the whole world was hanging on his every word, every pause.
Backstage, I was strapping a guitar onto my shoulders, as was my son. We were discussing how we'd walk up. Jake was tuning his bass to perfection and Clif was grinning madly, twirling a drumstick in his fingers, saying, "This is wicked. So cool. Wicked cool." I told Johnny not to worry and he said, "Mom. Don't you worry. I live for this sort of thing." He smiled and I relaxed. This was going to work.
Back to Gene: "....Now we've got them here. The original legend. I'd like the introduce to you...their drummer, Clif [[Clif bounds out and lands behind his drumset]]. Bassist, Jake Kinsale. [[Jake walks out, gives a quick grin to the audience]]. The original guitarist, Tará O'Súilleabhain. [[I slap Johnny on the back in a good manner once and then walk out onstage. Give the crowd a single salute and stand near Jake before going on stage right.]] And, for the first time in 24 years, the lead singer, Johnny Matthews!" [[Johnny walks out with so much confidence and swagger that he's a picture-perfect image of his father. As he walks past me, he gives me a kiss on the cheek for good luck...Little did he know, his dad used to do that before every show, too. He gives a two-handed wave to the audience and TVs before resting one arm on his guitar, grinning widely]]
Half of the crowd is screaming, disbelieving. The other half is just staring at Johnny. Everyone watching on TV was stunned. The lead singer was supposed to be dead. But no, here he is - right out in front. It's not an illusion, they knew. One woman was watching TV with her daughters and they were looking up at her expectedly. Their mother had been at the last Broken Circle concert so long ago and had been a huge fan, surely she could tell a fake. "My god," she whispered. "They should be in their 40s by now, but they haven't aged a day. Johnny is still the same as he ever was....My god..."
Gene: "Ladies and gentlemen, Broken Circle!"
The crowd was one now; yelling, cheering, screaming, crying....Scholars in their classrooms were rapidly taking down notes...Teachers were in shock. The ones who believed that Broken Circle was immortal - well, their beliefs were confirmed. The band was immortal. The world was watching....And through all that, Johnny took to his fathers position like a fish took to water. He convinced everyone that that was all he'd ever been - his father's son. The band played on through to the end, and four encores on top of that before we said goodnight.
Then the dream ended - and I woke up with my face wet.
I've never had a dream like that before. I left out many, many parts, but this was the core dream. It was so detailed - everything I'd ever been was in it. Everyone was detailed and realistic...And I swear that if I'd never woken up, I wouldn't have known that that was a dream. Tara
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Where am I now? <---definitely the easier question to answer. I am now working here: (click) (click)Yes. I now work in the vinyl department at the chrome shop I spent so much damned money in. Fortunately, I no longer drive the semi and don't have to worry about spending quite as much any more. =) No, I don't drive a truck any more. I also don't date a truck driver any more. Jack is no longer a part of my life, I no longer live in TN, tattooing has made it's way to the backburner for the moment, and I am really really sick right now. But I looooooove my job. With a passion. Yep. All the other questions to be answered.....eventually. - Tara
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...at how much people really hide from the world. The only time you'd ever know is when they finally break to the point of needing to get it off their chest somehow. Hug a friend today, they might need it. - Tara
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| DUDE LOOKS LIKE A LADY A leggy blonde dubbed Diamond Star struts out from under the baby disco ball, off the black and white tiled stage and into the crowd. The focused beam of the spotlight keeps her illuminated as she moves. The spotlight slices through the darkness. She is working the audience to Blondie's "One Way or Another" and whipping her shoulder-length hair around to the beat. Her skin-tight leotard is pink with black stripes - not too risqu?, but revealing enough to make every woman in the room jealous. The audience, sipping various libations, is scattered between three high-top tables, two couches and seats at the bar. In just minutes Diamond Star has transformed into a cabaret dancer. Her blonde tresses are gone. She now has more clothes, but less hair. Her locks are dark and cut close to her head. And, yet, she's still striking. And, by the way, she is a he. Welcome to the Saturday night drag show at the North Lounge. That's right. Drag shows. Make that FREE drag shows. Every weekend. Every Saturday night, this lounge undergoes its own transformation. The establishment is laden with pool tables, dart boards and illuminated signs touting domestic beer. But the lounge that typically feels as comfortable as a college buddy's pad hosts a professional drag show. Beginning at 11:30 p.m., drag queens entertain the audience with sultry dancing, country serenades and everything in between. And for patrons over 21 years old, there is no cover (it is $5 for ages 18 to 20). The lounge also offers free pool on Wednesday nights. The venue also offers an amateur variety drag show every Friday night; performances begin at 10 p.m., and cover is free. - Jessica Greene
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So sorry for the continuous ramblings...I am not entirely sure where my head has been the last few months, but I am pretty sure that it is much farther out than the clouds. I've been trying to balance the truck driver lifestyle with my tattooing and social life...And it's really becoming a major problem. It's so hard to try and catch up on a social life and the tattoo work when you're only able to be home on the weekends. I decided to get off of the truck for at least a month. I need to get my own sh*t back in order and, quite frankly, I am sick of the ignorance that runs rampant amongst the trucker crowds. When I say that, I am in no way exaggerating the situation. It seems as though 19/20 truck drivers believe in the conspiracy theory and that one person controls the entire world with a computer. They're distrustful of anything smarter than them (nearly everything) and think females are placed on the planet for their own amusement. I'm sick of it and I need a break before I shoot someone. So here I am. I am not in my home (NY) and I am not in my new home (TN)....Nor am I in my parents home (FL). I am just floating....Seeing what sort of freelance tattoo work I can conjur up and I am almost on a mission to make as many friends in one week as I would have this past year (had I had a life, that is.) In the meantime, I've got a whole bunch of work lined up for myself this week. Five people want to get some very detailed (see: very expensive) tattoos done within the next couple of weeks. And they, without a doubt, want me to do them. Hurrah! I've also got two El Caminos that are dying for some engine work...Add on to that, one of my functioning El Caminos (1983; Bailey) needs new piston rings and a new set of baby moons (long story involving a cab driver and a thug). In addition to that, my stout decision to hang out at the gay bar/drag show bar every Friday night is going to happen. I don't care if I fall off the face of the earth, I will make it there each weekend. I need some relaxation. Only bad part is that they don't serve any Guinness in the establishment...And I don't "make do" with another beer. If they don't have what I want, I get a soda. End of story. (Picky former alcohol...What can I say?) Moving on....This Friday morning, I may get a chance to meet the President. They are opening up a high school nearby in honour of a Vietnam vet who won the Congressional Medal of Honour for leaping on top of a mine to save his buddies....And the President will end up sanctioning the event. The only people who know the exact place and times are the authorities (and myself....because local law enforcement loves me because of my father...and my charm....I hope.)...And the only people being granted access to the entire school grounds will be people from the Daughters of the American Revolution, Veterans of Foreign Wars, the President's men, local law enforcement and certain members of the media. I'm there by complete accident ('acting' photographer for the D.A.R. Thank God for contacts.) It poses to be an interesting week. - Tara
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Most people go out with their significant other on the weekends....Maybe they go see a movie or hang out at a local hot spot....Me? I go to a drag show. I didn't take any pictures to show you, but I probably will when I go again. See, my friend who works at a book store does drag shows on the weekends at this quaint little bar downtown. (I didn't realize it was a gay bar until I had a plethora of women start hitting on me...But that's alright. Saves me from getting hit on by nasty, greasy men.) I told him I'd by able to give him a ride there and I'd stay to see the show. I'm sorry to say that Diamond (my friend) looks more of a woman that I do....And looks a hundred times better in fishnets than I ever could. Not to mention the fact that he actually knows how to use makeup. I flounder around with eyeliner and lipstick and do a terrible job of it. At any rate, I had a great time. Jack refused to go along, as the drag scene really isn't his thing. But all the drag queens now call me their "fag tag"....Which is a term I'd been completely unfamiliar with all this while. =) Also, not to be outdone by the glam and fever of a drag show, a lot of people there were so impressed by my photography and tattooing that I may have picked up more thna few jobs for myself. The bartender actually wants prints of some of my stuff. (I had just gotten pictures of my tattooing and photography developed before I went there, so I had the packs on me.) Sweet. Now I am probably going to hang out there every Friday night. What are you guys going to be doing on the weekends? - Tara
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