So, like I was saying...

My new tattoo machine!!!!

LauraBee — Sun, 24 Dec 2006 17:26:01 GMT

Garver’s working with Danny Dringenberg to design a tattoo machine. Garver’s a “lefty” and complains that most tattoo machines are designed for right-handed people and has decided to do something about it. He goes to L.A. to meet up with Dan who’s been building tattoo machines for 15 years. Dan actually involves Garver in the process, cutting and drilling the metal to create the frame. Dan fine tunes the machine to make it even better and tells Chris he’ll send it to him when it’s ready. My husband bought me a new machine from Dan, the one that Chris Garver helped to design...Chris is also a left-handed tattoo artist and this machine is balanced differently so that it will be perfect for those of us who don't use their right hand. (That's 10% of the population) I'm so totally excited about using this machine, Chris and Dan are two of my heros in the tattoo world. The machine is numbered: #176 for the year 2006, and another number CGP #2. I'm guessing that CG is Chris Garver, and if my machine is #2, I'm guessing that Chris has number one. Yep, me and Chris Garver, tattooing with our machines from Dan Dringenberg...Could I be any more excited? Could I be any more eighth grade about it? Happy holidays to all of you!!!! (Picture is of Dan and his wife that I totally hijacked from his myspace profile)

The mouse just ran up the clock OR it's midnight

LauraBee — Wed, 06 Dec 2006 08:16:39 GMT

And it's now my recovery birthday. I just completed the final day of the third year I've been clean, and now I'm 3. (sounds funny, but a baby lives a whole year until we call it "one") We've been watching Miami Ink, and Michael was flipping back and forth between that and Nightline...The moment the time read 1200 he gave me his three year chip, the very one he carried for the year that he was three. He sang me happy birthday and I cried. I was so, so miserable when I got to the rooms...I was crying then too, but not the happy tears that cloud my vision right now. My sobriety counter reads "1096 Days", and those were earned one day at a time. Recovery is good. People used to say the you can get your life back in recovery, but like my sponsor says "I didn't want my old life back, my old life sucked! I got a whole new life!" No truer words have ever been spoken. If I love you, you know it.

The clock just ticked over to midnight

LauraBee — Wed, 06 Dec 2006 08:14:11 GMT

We came back to our honeymoon

LauraBee — Sun, 19 Nov 2006 10:16:09 GMT

We were never really done, back when we had to go "home" before...and Robert comped us the same condo we had the first time for Saturday...So we're back. We have to leave again tomorrow, but Napa is not really our home, we were tricked into living there when we really belong here at the Russian River. Tonight was the 2007 Leather Man competition. (It's a handy tool that fits in your pocket, Big Daddy) There were three contestants, and the one who won was, how you say in your country? Retarded. Well, I don't have the official diagnosis, but he just wasn't right. It was fun to see all the leather (Oh, so Gay) and sing some fairyoke, and visit with Robert and Christine the psychic...I swear, I feel like the first time I went to Berkely and realized that the social climate in the town where I reside is just not a match for my spirit. Michael was totally cute all collared in his see-through shirt. I love watching how other people look at him, and I am truly the luckiest woman to put both feet on the ground! It's tomorrow already, don't want to go to bed, and I don't want to leave this magical place. If I love you, you know it.

Good and Bad

LauraBee — Fri, 17 Nov 2006 23:30:44 GMT

I got my Big Daddy's birthday present way early this year that is good I drove around with it in my car, forgetting to mail it for a couple of weeks that is bad I remembered to take it to the post office to mail it that is good I dropped 50$ change from the grocery store on the ground in the parking lot that I was going to pay the post office with That's bad I got more money from winning lottery scratchers and actually sent my Big Daddy's birthday present yesterday that is good I got to work yesterday and my second artist had left his key and a lame note saying good bye on my desk and all his stuff is gone That is bad I just did a really cool tattoo of a miniature fox terrier on a real estate agent named Jim (who gave me the name of a mortgage broker who will help us figure out if we can afford to get into our own house someday when we're ready This is good I just kicked a wooden toothpick into the ball of my foot because I'm barefoot again, and it won't stop bleeding because it went waaaaay into my foot this is bad Michael has a tattoo appointment to fill in a guy's tattoo for practice tonight this is good This is how things have been in the last two days. If I love you, you know it.

I changed my name yesterday

LauraBee — Thu, 09 Nov 2006 18:06:25 GMT

My new name is Laura Bennett Johnson. I really wanted to do Laura Bee Johnson, but I've spent thirteen years establishing my name (Laura Bennett) professionally. I have so much stuff in that name...I think I still need it on my driver's license. I'm planning to wear my wedding tiara in my new picture if I can get away with it. My current driver's licence picture is a great one, I look about 16. I've thought for years that I should have a totally new name. My birth name is Laura xxxxxxx Rodgerson, and I am the sixth Laura xxxxxxx in a row on my mother's side of the family. "Oh, what a beautiful baby, what shall we name her? Why think of a brand new name when we can use this same old name we've all had since the f#*^ing civil war? Laura xxxxxxx it is!" The problem is, though, that I'm not a Shelia, Ashley, Margaret, Coco, Katherine, Lisa, Theresa, Barbara, Agnes, Rosie, Elizabeth, Kelly, Linda...well, you get the idea. So I've just stuck with Laura, although Lauren sounds much sexier; not enough of a difference to go through all that for. So I was standing there filling out the forms thinking I could choose any name on the planet...and settled for Laura Bennett Johnson. That's Laura Bee though, still. If I love you, you know it.

I can't believe it's over already

LauraBee — Sun, 29 Oct 2006 21:53:10 GMT

One week has flown by...just like the wedding. All those months of preparation really paid off. I just wish that we had a whole 'nother week here in Guernville! We've done karaoke for the last three nights at the Triple R, and we've been to the Coffee Bizzare a bunch of times, the really cool pet store, the kinky guy store, Stumptown (which has the biggest and best steak I've ever eaten) We've felt totally at home here. People keep asking why we came to a Gay resort...We only sleep with each other, why in the world would we care who anyone else is sleeping with? I'm serious, I could see us living here. My friend Robert is here to give us massages, gotta fly. if I love you, you know it.

I brought my tattoo equipment with me on the honeymoon

LauraBee — Fri, 27 Oct 2006 21:53:07 GMT

and I just did this tattoo on Michael (at his request of course) We've been at it for about two hours and we're starving. I won't say whether we did this tattoo naked, because my Big Daddy reads my blog. I also won't say what might or might not have happened if we were or were not naked during this tattoo. I'm having a great time!!! If I love you, you know it!

So I went to see Jimmy at the Hole Thing

LauraBee — Fri, 27 Oct 2006 18:21:05 GMT

to get this tattoo that I designed. I started with a Sailor Jerry piece of a gypsy, and re-did her as a bride. The whole tattoo took a little over 2 1/2 hours. The first 20 minutes and the last 20 minutes were spiritual to say the least. I prayed Oh God, why did I get it here? Why did I get it this big? I haven't had a major tattoo (in size) since I went into recovery. Although I always tell people you can't drink while or before you get a tattoo, I always did. I'm the queen, it's my shop, I'm having beers during a tattoo. Now, that's not an option, so I just had to sit through the pain. Some people say a tattoo hurts a lot, others say it doesn't. It does. That's not enough to keep me from finishing both sleeves (and my back and probably my legs too) but it's there. Jimmy's been tattooing for 25 years, and he knows a lot of the OG tattoo artists here in Northern California. He's my idol. Last night we did open mic night at the local coffee shop, that's put on by the high school music kids here. It was cute, and gave us a chance to do the songs we did at the wedding for a new audience. We did another song that we learned since we've been here, and even though Michael didn't remember all the chords right I just kept singing and it went ok. Then we went to karaoke at the triple R and had a blast. People keep asking us why we chose a Gay resort for our honeymoon. That wasn't a factor when we chose the place, but the people couldn't be nicer to us. The whole town is that way. We're going to do some halloween activities tonight, which I came up here totally unprepared for. Michael is going to go in drag, and it's easy for him to find the stuff he needs here. I would've hooked up a pirate costume if I'd thought about it, but I was too spun about the wedding to remember. Now I wish I had my bride dress here. Michael just shaved his legs (and he really has nice legs) and they feel like silk. I'm afraid he's a prettier woman than I am, but I have the hip thing when I walk and he doesn't. Oh, and the vagina. It will be a fun night. This honeymoon is the most fun I've ever had, and it's passing by too quickly...We're relaxing and playing, and doing things that are illegal in some states. All in all, I wouldn't change a thing! If I love you, you know it!

Cowboys and Pirates

LauraBee — Tue, 24 Oct 2006 16:08:56 GMT

Why am I up writing a blog when my husband is asleep in that country of a king size bed downstairs? Maybe just to type that word: Husband. Or, more likely, because I whacked my knee (for the third time) on the big square corner of the bed that sticks out farther than the matress and is so cleverly concealed by the bedspread. When we say "husband" or "wife" I still feel like we're playing cowboys and pirates, like it's just some fun game of pretend. It's NOT pretend, we had the big day with the fancy outfits and the promises and the songs and the cake; signed papers with witnesses and opened presents...so it's real. It just feels like pretend. I'm the pirate. I'm here to rape and pillage your booty, aaaar Matey. The wedding was beautiful. It surpassed any idea I had about what it would be like when I was acquiring and making all the stuff. I'm SO glad no one told me how big and white I was...in pictures I'm just this side of horrified at how gargantuan I look. Michael says it's the way the pictures were compressed, that I was beautiful. Good enough. We're on our honeymoon in Guernville right now, at a beautiful guest house in the redwoods. It's a huge house, beautifully decorated. We're pretending we really live here. The difference between this house and our house is...well, everything, but mostly that there's not STUFF everywhere. I have lived in my house for ten years, and have ten years worth of stuff in it, and then the Michaels moved in and brought all their stuff...well, we have a lot of stuff, to say the least. My main picture right now is of a piece some graff artists painted for us down in this little tunnel that goes to the river. They were busy with their spray cans and we happened to see them down there so we stopped to talk to them. "MOSH" and "PRSN" were the two that were really painting, and they painted ours. We told them we'd give them twenty bucks, and Michael actually tried to give them an extra twenty, but they said no. I told them that I'd give them a killer deal if they ever wanted a tattoo from me. Good boys, I love them. Speaking of tattoos...I brought all my stuff up here with me and I'm going to tattoo Michael. I won't say what until I do it, but I'll post pics. I have an appointment for myself to be tattooed on Thursday in Santa Rosa. I designed the piece and it will finish my right sleeve. I am very excited about both of these tattoos. Michael and I are perfect for each other. I have the dogs here with me, and they're kind of a pain in the ass, but if I had left them somewhere I would just have worried about them the whole time so I'm glad I have them. Ok, so: Good wedding and honeymoon bliss. I hope we aren't going to hike anywhere today, I can hardly move my legs. Make whatever you like of that remark, wink wink nudge nudge. If I love you, you know it.

So I was 45 minutes early to the Oakland airport

LauraBee — Tue, 17 Oct 2006 00:29:28 GMT

to pick up Andrew. I drove over the Carquinas bridge while talking to Annelise..."I can't feel my feet, they're sweating and I'm going blind!" I told her. She pointed out that if I could feel my feet sweat that I could feel my feet, and that I was probably not really going blind. I made it to Oakland and felt so proud of myself! Then I start looking around for British Airways, and can't find their gate. When I ask the information lady where those passengers will disembark, she tells me "At SFO." San Franfuckingcisco. "Just drive 660 south to the San Mateo bridge, then take 101 to the SF airport. Have any of you ever driven over that bridge? It's really long, and tricks you because it's really low for a long time...then climbs straight up into the sky and TURNS for God's sake. "Our father, who art in heaven..." That's how I made it over that bridge. I used that technique when I was living alone and kept finding the toilet seat up in early sobriety, but that's a different story. I was so stressed about getting there on time, and then when I DID get there I had to drive all over on these little narrow roads in the sky. I shouldn't have worried, he was in customs for almost an hour. I drove the bay bridge home, and that's a really long one too. I thought I might be going blind again, and that I couldn't breathe, but Andrew kept asking me questions about Jason my body piercer who talks all the time and Erick the new tattoo artist who doesn't talk at all. I made it. Like 150 miles of driving today, for a girl who doesn't normally drive. I'm feeling proud. If I love you , you know it.

A dream come true, and Michael demonstrates his devotion yet again

LauraBee — Mon, 16 Oct 2006 07:12:26 GMT

Augusten Burroughs was in San Francisco to to a reading from Running With Scissors yesterday as a promotion for the movie that's coming out soon. Michael had never heard of him before, but knows I read a couple of books a week and when I told him that I've read every single book Augusten has written he didn't hesitate for a moment to go with me and see him. He did two books (Dry and Magical Thinking) that deal with his alcohol and drug abuse, and his recovery) that were pivotal in my early recovery. His style of writing is what I aspire to. He can write the ugliest, most painful experience and still make me laugh. He paints people, places and things with sharp yet sparing words, and I love him. The reading was in Bloomingdales, and after we finally found parking we were not early enough to get to the front of the men's Theory department area where he was going to read, the standing crowd was 20 deep. But then (ta da!) Michael starts weasling between people and moving these manaquins that were standing in the way like the other real people in the crowd and he took me right up front to sit on the floor to listen to my hero. I watched Augusten, he watched me watching Augusten...Other women watched him watching me, because he absolutely adores me and it shows. I got to meet him and shake his hand and get two books signed by him, which will probably end up in on of my kids' garage sales someday, but are currently my most treasured items. (that I'm not wearing on my left ring finger or driving to the airport tomorrow.) After the reading was over we drove around SF, and went to a certain Super-store that I won't name here since my Big Daddy reads my blog, but it's the first time I've ever been in a store like that, and with Michael by my side I was having a blast and not embarassed in the least. Peaches, the older black woman with the incredibly long, airbrushed acrylic nails even put batteries in our purchased item to check to see if it works, although she retrieved them and put them back into the drawer under the cash register. Peaches has seen it all, and my blushing didn't even register on her radar. I looked her in the eye, and felt like a total grownup. Remote control cars dad, that's what we were buying. Now I really want to get the Copperfield's book store author appearance schedule and go listen to more of the people I read in their own voices. It's a blast. If you're looking for an author to read, I highly recommend Augusten Burroughs. And David Sedaris. Let me kow how you like them! If I love you, you know it.

Andrew is coming tomorrow!

LauraBee — Mon, 16 Oct 2006 06:55:02 GMT

This is an old picture of us, right when he was graduating from AIT in the Army. That was March, 2004, and he has such a baby face still in this picture...but it was the one i could find of us together. He and his brother Paul are going to walk me down the aisle on Saturday, and he's going to wear his dress uniform...I'm so excited to see him! The big deal is that I'm driving Libby (the new Jeep. May Reggie rest in peace.) all by myself to Oakland to pick him up. Oakland is 49 miles from here, and freeway all the way. Let me repeat myself: I'm driving by myself. Not too long ago I wouldn't have been able to make that drive even with a passenger. This is a big deal. I took all the wedding stuff out of my closet and put it on the kitchen table today. Damn, that's a lot of stuff. If I love you, you know it.

I'm afraid to even blog about it

LauraBee — Sat, 14 Oct 2006 06:30:20 GMT

in case they take it away. They actually ran the numbers with my income (I told them the actual amount I make, which of course, there is no record accurately reflecting) and they let me sign and drive away in a 2002 Jeep Liberty. Then...the next day they wanted Michael to bring down his pay stubs to add him to the loan. Pay stubs are good, I'm finding. They have ten days from the eleventh to change their minds, although they told me that I would have to pay a nonrefundable fee of 500. for the right to change my mind in three days. I didn't pay it, I don't want to. So, our wedding day is the final day they can change their minds and take it back. I don't want them to take it back, I love it. I haven't blogged about it for supersticious reasons, but then I realize rationally that bloging or not will not change the outcome one bit. Last night they said that Michael will have to come down today some time to sign papers...and then no one called us or returned our calls. Is that because there's no problem? Is it because they can't get an OK on the deal? I don't know...another case of just having to turn it over and trust that it will work out the way it's supposed to. I sure don't want them to take it back right before the wedding though, that would bite. Andrew arrives in Oakland from Germany on Monday at 1:30, and I'm going to drive (all by myself, or with Paul as a passenger) to pick him up. For those of you who don't know, I've been terrified to drive for several years, and this is a big deal. I'm not really scared any more about it, but I haven't driven that far in like ten years. Michael's tired and already fell asleep and I'm trying not to pout about it. If I love you, you know it.

It'll do in a pinch

LauraBee — Wed, 11 Oct 2006 19:21:04 GMT

Our rear-end-violating car salesman finally called the insurance company and made his statement, so we're good for a rental car. We looked at a Jeep Liberty when we were car shopping, (28 thousand, waaaay out of any range we could hit with a rock if we threw it) and we liked it...Now I get to drive one until the insurance adjuster decided whether to total Reggie or not. Good news is: Blue book for Reggie is 5,500 to 8,500, not four or four-two. so we'll have more to work with if we do have to get a whole 'nother vehicle. I want to keep this Jeep though, it's fancy/fine!

So I think it was quite mean of them

LauraBee — Wed, 11 Oct 2006 06:18:31 GMT

to let us think we could qualify for that car. We've spent the last two evenings (spent? wasted? thrown away?) down at the car dealership sitting at a table with our Jeep-smacking salesman, while we wait for his manager to scuttle about, shiny shoes click-tapping across the stone tiles helping other people. He stops by to pat our shoulders approximately one out of three circuits of the room, assuring us that he will "Be with you in just a few moments, thanks so much for your patience." Some imaginary man behind the green curtain is supposedly "running the numbers" to see if we can qualify for this car that I loved so much after driving. We left at nine last night, with the promise that we'd get a call today around one telling us if we were going to drive home tonight in the car. I called a few times, Michael called a few times, there was an answer but he was with a customer and would call us in a few minutes. We finally drove down there after work (if it was no, they would just tell us, right? We figured that the payments were going to be higher than we said we wanted and that they would have us come down so that they could talk us into a lot more money a month.) We sat there, in the aforementioned manner for another few hours tonight and finally got the "good news and the bad news." The good news (Or "thumbs up" as Rocco put it) was that we were approved for a loan---for 12 thousand dollars. The "bad news" was that since the XTerra is 22 thousand dollars we couldn't get that. "So, tell us about the 12 thousand dollar cars." we say with buyer-naivety. "We'll have to search the data base, I'll be with you in a few minutes, and thanks for your patience." We actually believe there is a choice of cars in that price range so we sit and talk to our little salesman about why he hasn't called his insurance company to make a statement about how he totally rear-ended me while I was sitting still, and is at fault for the accident. He's going to do it tomorrow, and gave us his word. It's Wednesday, the accident happened on Friday and he still hasn't made a statement. His word. That and 22 thousand dollars will get us the car we wanted. We told him: SUV, we need it to haul amplifiers and my tattoo cart and my dog crate. No trucks, no cars. After about two hours the manager tells our salesman to drive us over to the lot just down the street, because he has something to show us in our price range. It's a two-seater pickup truck. We have four people in our family and need to lock the items I just mentioned in any vehicle we have, so that's just not going to work. We finally get fed up and leave, with the new promise that tomorrow they're "going to find exactly what we need and have the salesman drive it from Vallejo to Napa to show it to us." The salesman has already told us that he has tomorrow off, and the way the manager is stressing the word "WILL" as in "James WILL drive the car to show it to you and we'll have the paperwork all ready." let's me know that he's aware that it's James' day off. James quietly assures us that he will NOT be going to work tomorrow, but he WILL call the insurance company to make his statement. We've decided that it's pathetic and humiliating to sit in a car dealership with only the amount we're going to get for the totaled Jeep Grand Cherokee, limited edition, circa 1993. We've decided that Rocco the manager is welcome to either show us a car, admit he doesn't have one we can afford, or kindly go fuck himself. The wedding is 10 days away, like we have endless evenings to sit down there and watch other people drive off in new cars. We're thinking that if we have the four grand from the Jeep as a down payment, and we've already been ok'd for twelve from this dealer that we could add that together and get another Jeep (even the same age is fine, they're great cars) from a place that specializes in used cars. We're also thinking that if James does not call the insurance company to make a statement tomorrow (and Michael is going to call him and give him one more HOUR) we're going to contact the president or CEO or whoever of Barber Auto Group and tell him that his salesman totaled our car and assured us that he had insurance to cover it, and could even get us a good deal at Barber. Then we're going to call the police and tell them that we've found the driver that did the hit-and-run on our car. And THEN we're going to get my son Andrew (On the top-secret Army computer that he works on every day in a Military Intelligence position) to find out James' commanding officer in the Army reserve and tell him that his soldier is going around hitting people and not making good on it. I don't know that ANY of that will do any good, but it will certainly create a good consequence for our little fender-smacking-driving-too-fast young man who killed our car ten days before the wedding. We still don't have a rental car, so I guess the honeymoon will be done with a Jeep that has doors that don't seal, a rear hatch that won't latch and a bumper that may fall off any time. I guess in the long run that's a way better disaster than might otherwise have occured. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. If I love you, you know it.

God's funny circles

LauraBee — Tue, 10 Oct 2006 06:19:09 GMT

The guy who rammed into the back of me sells cars. We went to see him at work tonight and he's trying to get us qualified for this Nissan Xterra. I had thought that God was setting us up to get a different car legitimately...and this guy was behind me and now in front of me...I don't know if we'll get it, but it was a way to find out our credit ratings. I'm very competitive, and I beat Michael by 9 points. I win. I'll leave it up to the ole HP whether we get this car or not, but damn, I can sure see myself driving it!

The things that try our patience

LauraBee — Mon, 09 Oct 2006 16:10:05 GMT

I was driving home on Friday night, and heard the skreeeech of tires while I was stopped for a light. I looked into the mirror and saw the guy coming fast and braced myself, because I knew I was going to be hit. I was. When the insurance adjusters get through with us I am sure they're going to total Reggie (the Jeep that Michael gave me to drive. The coolest car I've ever had to be my car :( ) The rear quarter panel on the passenger side is totally crumpled, the rear passenger door touches at the bottom but has a two inch gap at the top, the rear hatch door doesn't latch, you can only open the doors on the driver side...Reggie's toast. The guy who was driving is very nice, has insurance, and is admitting fault. Cool, we'll just get a rental until they cut us a check and we get somthing new... WRONG! We don't have a credit card to rent with (we live with this strange idea that if we want something we should have the money for it, that creating credit card debt is one of the worst things that people do to themselves financially. I didn't figure that out until I was forty or so) The other driver's insurance company has 40 days to determine whether or not one of their drivers was involved in an accident. Lets do some math: 40 days for them to figure this out minus the fact that I'm getting married in 12 days and driving to the honeymoon location = um, 28? I'm not very good with math, the math part of my brain is filled with words. I'm just deciding that it's going to work out ok, turning it over if you will...I think that Reggie was maybe going to break in a way that we couldn't afford to fix and God is giving us a legitimate way to replace him while learning lessons in patience and not freaking out. So there's that. On another front, we just found out that one of our groomsmen won't be able to make it to the wedding because he has to be in Texas. (If he's not in the wedding then I guess he's not a groomsman, is he?) So we have five girls and four guys. That really upset Michael, but I told him that since his best friend/sponsor is marrying us and his wife is a bridesmaid they can just walk back down the aisle together. It would be worse if the flowers or the cake didn't show up, wouldn't it? So that's handled. I had a big fight with Molly yesterday, because although I said I'd buy her shoes, I also said I couldn't (wouldn't) afford the BRAND she wants. Shoes from payless are stupid and ugly, and everyone will know we're poor but we're not poor we just spend all the money on our stupid wedding. Why do we need to spend 7.00 a slice for cake for our stupid wedding when she just wants the right shoes? You can fill in the rest, just sigh, pout and say whatever with the accent on the last two sylables. I called her dad, he's going to buy her the shoes (damn straight, she lives with me full time now and he doesn't have to pay for anything any more, at least he can buy her some shoes that aren't stupid and ugly and an insult to any shoe-wearing eighth grader) She's still mad at me, but she'll have her shoes and I'll have my stupid wedding, I don't know why we're not both happy. We found out Friday that the wedding site only has 100 chairs and 10 tables, and we're having 150 people (or more, if some people are coming but didn't send their response cards back) so we have to rent 150 chairs (so they'll match) and five tables. Oh, and the chocolate brown table cloths for all 15 because...well, because I"m the bride dammit and I want brown table cloths. 450.00. (this is why I haven't been blogging lately, it's all about the wedding) So, after we handle the tables and chairs, and the car, we're good to go. I still have to make about 40 wedding favors (incredibly time consuming, I have to take the thing, put it in the celo bag with celo shreds, put the ribbon through the tag and tie it shut...didn't sound like a lot to do when I dreamed these up) and then remember all the stuff I haven't thought about (2:00 am this morning I realized that I need serving tools for all the bowls of salad on the food table) Oh, and plates and napkins and forks and how many sodas for 150 people and we should have water too oh my God coffee I have a coffee pot but how much coffee do we need for that many people and oh yeah I need creamer and sugar and cups we need to go to costco will that third pair of shoes fit me better than the other two pairs I've ordered I should really get another serving platter and what will the hors deurves be served on I have two girls to pass them around I should get plastic since they'll be walking with them will I be able to pull off the song I want to sing I never hold a microphone but we've paid 160.00 for shotgun microphones so I should be able to just sing only one guitar plugs in oh but Michael will be playing Eric's Martin guitar so that should be fine how am I going to pee in that dress do I wear my glasses or not I can't see to read during the ceremony so I'll wear them then but not for the pictures is a six page ceremony too long that's what the whole day is about so that doesn't matter and it's not all full of jesus so it should be ok I'm going to cry but I have a linen hanky for that do I need better bridesmaid gifts and Michael hasn't ordered his gifts for his groomsmen so we're going to have to go to the mall when are we going to go to the mall oh the car's totaled maybe if we order with overnight shipping... That's what it's like in my head. I have ZERO worries about the marriage, but I'm a little stressed on the wedding. Whew, I think that's it for now. If I love you, you know it.

All apologies

LauraBee — Fri, 06 Oct 2006 08:10:08 GMT

All apologies Body: Usually, when I give an interview or write an essay about tattooing I have something to say about tattoos that are done in dirty unprofessional circumstances. I talk about the dangers of getting tattooed by a scratcher, and how bad for the industry it is that there are those who will tattoo minors. When the wrong minor with parents who are connected in local government comes down with hep c or staff infection, or any of the other bacterial or bloodborne conditions that can result in that setting it will be just a short time before Napa outlaws tattooing all together. This won't affect the "artist" in his garage, it will only affect the legitimate, professional tattoo artists here. Always, I just refer to these "artists" in vague terms...If you're talking to me in person I will tell you who has done the most tattoos around here that I've covered up or repaired, or if you're a minor I'll beg you not to go to his garage and get something I can't legally fix or cover until you're 18. Two years ago, I made one post on Tribe.net, and actually used Shawn Greene's name. What I said was "I can fix any tattoo Shawn Green did." I shouldn't have used his name in a public forum. Just for a moment I want you to think about the first amendment: it guarantees me the right to say whatever I want, as long as it doesn't endanger others. (Like yelling "FIRE" in a crowded room) I didn't say that tattoos by him were often ugly and crooked, I didn't say that by tattooing in a garage and saving people's needles in a drinking straw for later use he was endangering everyone's health, I just said I can fix tattoos by him. I shouldn't have used his name in print where any psycho can google my shop name and his name (spelled wrong, by the way) I should have just used the generic "scratcher" and left it at that. It wasn't his sister's threat to get lawyers involved that made me say I would take his name out of that post from November 2004, or the nasty email I received from his friend telling me he would never support my shop again. I was wrong to use his name, and now that it's been pointed out I will admit it and remove the post. What else could I be? All apologies. What else could I write? I don't have the right. .

Is it the cortisone?

LauraBee — Tue, 08 Aug 2006 15:56:56 GMT

Last night I said "It feels like I have a lump in my throat." which meant I had a little lump I couldn't swallow, not that I was having trouble swallowing. I was also not having trouble breathing, but my tongue was swolen to the point that it barely fit into my mouth, and I was talking like the way I did when I got it pierced. Read again: no trouble breathing, no trouble swallowing. I did get hives on my face for the first time though, and my neck was puffy on one side. It won't take pills to make me depressed (one of the listed side effects) but I promise you that if this fucks with my face I will not be a happy camper. I'm taking my Canadian Zyrtec now instead of the Claritin (which does NOTHING, no matter what Dr. Condecending says) and my hives are smaller and not as raised. When I had the amount of hives I woke up with today back when they were increasing every day I complained and hated them. Now a couple hundred on each leg and my stomache *armpits and breasts too, if I'm being honest* seems like an improvement...God, what if my face swells all up and my hands and feet, and stays that way for the wedding... I'll be depressed about that later if it happens I guess... If I love you, you know it.

The hives are winning

LauraBee — Mon, 07 Aug 2006 17:45:59 GMT

Saturday night Michael wanted to take me to the emergency room, my hives were so bad. My eyes looked puffy, my upper lip was swelling, and my whole trunk was one big angry hive. I got him to settle for putting me in an oatmeal bath...He was angry and frustrated and powerless, he wants to make me better and all he can do is tell me not to itch. Yesterday morning when I woke up my eyes were swollen almost all the way shut, and my lip looked like George Jetson's. We went to the emergency room. The doctor didn't seem too alarmed about how bad they were, or how long I've had them...he gave me a prescription for cortico-steroids and sent me home. I took three claritin, and the six pills for the first day, and my eyes are still puffed halfway shut and I have Julia Roberts' upper lip and the whole body full of hives today. I used to say a prayer of gratitude that it wasn't my face every day...I should've prayed twice a day. Having my face all swollen up is a terribly depressing thing, especially seventy-something days before I'm getting married in that beautiful dress in front of all those people and pictures...It doesn't help that one of the side effects of the medication can be depression. Michael, the doctor, everyone I talk to says "Don't scratch!" I guarantee you: the only people who can say that to someone with hives all over their body and a puffy, itchy face are people who don't itch. This sucks. If I love you, you know it.

What do YOU know about latex allergy?

LauraBee — Sun, 30 Jul 2006 17:08:39 GMT

Yesterday I was tattooing and breaking out into the worst batch of hives I've ever had when I had the thought that maybe I'm allergic to latex. I've been hiving since March or so, and it gets worse every day. At first it was just patches on my inner arms, and now it's there and on my stomach, legs and butt...(Michael says instead of the bee going to the hive the hives are coming to the Bee) I googled latex allergy, and hives are one of the symptoms. (even if the hives are not on the same place as the latex touches) I have worn latex gloves for one to several hours every single day for the last 14 years... What do you know about latex allergy? Have you ever had hives from it? Do you know of any medication that will alleviate raging hives? I've ordered a case of non latex gloves to see if they go away...but I'm curious how long it might take for them to go away... I'm so covered and miserable today that I'm cancelling all my appointments, and since the Zyrtec isn't seeming to work I'm going to take another Benadryl and sleep through this firey itch.

I've been through this before, didn't like it then, don't like it now.

LauraBee — Thu, 27 Jul 2006 03:33:06 GMT

Teenagers. I could barely tolerate my boys when they were teenagers, and now I live with someone else's... Sullen, passive-aggressive, sneaky, lying....and it matters so much to me that Michael feels good that I feel like I"m being held hostage by this totally selfish, self-centered, spoiled BOY who is in my house. Our house. The house. Whatever. His stupid snatch of a girlfriend has no respect for what time it is when she's making her forty-third call of the day. This girl is terrible, and I can't stand her, but the reasons why would take up ten pages so suffice it to say I wish her parents would move to another state, or that she would be conveniently be hit by a bus or abducted by aliens. My phone is my phone, not the house phone or "our" phone. Not only did the teenager delete all my stored phone numbers and rename the handset with his stupid online name, he refuses to tell his bitch not to call it any more. (his dad got his metro pcs phone back on, and he's welcome to call out all he wants) I told her the last time she called NOT to call my number any more. Well, little selfish got very upset...seems that the Dark Queen of Am Can cried for three hours because I told her to lose the number. Boy boy went to stay at his mom's because he was throwing a tantrum. He disabled his dad's computer by taking the hard drives with him, and when his dad called and said he was going to pick up the C drive he took one of the pins out of it. Here are some lies that he's told just recently: I don't know where the pin for the hard drive is. I don't know who left the enormous shit skid in the toilet. (He was the only one here, duh!) I didn't climb through your bedroom window when I didn't remember to bring my key with me. (Hmmm. funny how the footprints on the windowsill, the chest right inside and the dirt under the window match his shoes perfectly...) I didn't delete your wedding guest list from the computer. I don't know what happened to my cellphone. (He decided he wanted a new one and his dad said no, so he threw it against the wall, I have that from Molly.) I'm sick of him. I don't miss him, even though I pretend to because Michael's sad because he's not here right now. To be fair and honest, I'm sick of Molly too, since she lives here full time and never goes to her dad's any more. On the 30th, I'll have been a parent for 22 years. I've had enough. I'm totally sick of it. The two who are grown and gone are wonderful, they don't live in my house and think that my stuff is theirs to touch. The two that are here right now are pains in my oh-so-ample ass. God, I can be a bitch some times... If I love you (and you're not a teenager) you know it. 12:33 We've had some phone calls, an angry visit, a mad run up the street and now Michael is on a "drive" with him. I feel fearful, and a bit resentful that he even has to deal with this. All he does is get up (super early) work hard all day, and then come home and take care of all of us. He's humble, open-minded, and willing to see his part in any situation and appologise when needed (or in little's case, when he's done nothing but be a target when the other is being a little asshole.) He deserves so much more...but my behavior is the only thing I can change so I'm going to try to not be such a bitch. 'night to you all

Can we talk about hives for a moment?

LauraBee — Tue, 25 Jul 2006 16:04:21 GMT

I blogged about them back in, what was it, March? I've had them ever single day since then. At first, I was able to suspend them with one Benadryl, and then I had to take two, and then I would've needed three...The hives tolerance for Benadryl grew, but my ability to stay awake did not. Then Michael's mother gave him some Zyrtec for his allergies. Zyrtec is a pretty cool drug, no drowsiness or jitters, and one is supposed to last for 24 hours. Every day since May I've taken one Zyrtec (and she gets them 30 for 55.00, OUCH!) and I"ve been hive free. (If I remember to take it...even an hour late and they're back) Except now if I take it in the morning I"ve got hives by night time...so I've started taking one in the morning and one in the evening. We googled drugs-over-the-internet sites last night, and we can get them a lot cheaper there...and Zyrtec is OTC in Canada. Lucky Canadians. I took one last night, and this morning my legs, lower back and stomach look like this picture. The hives are winning. When I first started getting them they were on my inner-upper-arms. That was bad. Now they're all over my thighs and butt, and that's agonizing. The ones on my stomach only really bother me when I put pants on... I've googled hives, and there're no solid reasons they can list for them. I haven't changed my diet, my soap, my laundry soap, my pets or my attitude since they came to stay, I don't eat a lot of nuts, eggs or wheat...I don't know, it just feels like an alien invasion. The one thing I'm greatful for (are you listening God? of course) is that they don't come on my face. Ok, so that was our moment about hives...You go enjoy your day and I'm going to drink some coffee and scratch my legs. If I love you, you know it.

13 hours, 2 friends, and our Colors are Flying

LauraBee — Tue, 25 Jul 2006 03:34:11 GMT

Most of you haven't seen my tattoo shop, but for those of you who have: Can you believe this is the same place? We took out the dividing wall, painted it three shades of warm brown and then totally rearranged the furniture. It was 105 degrees the whole day we did it, but there's good air-conditioning at the shop so it was nicer to be working inside than it would've been just hanging out at the house. I'm going to see Ta2 Fiend, Mistress Mimsey, Critter and some other new friends on Saturday...I just wish Hardcore Brat was coming as well!!! Hot. Tired. (Did I mention hot?) If I love you, you know it.