Sleepless in Scotland

*oozes into work* OMG So hot. Gah. Not only is it sleeping-on-top-of-the-covers hot, but it's inching in on sleeping-with-the-fan-on hot. I already have the fan at my desk, actually, but my bed is closer to the window than my desk is, and the wind is, for now, providing enough cooling to survive. And then I can't skip my morning shower even if I'm running late, because I sweat a lot and I already have a sweat rash on one arm and don't want to get another one, and then I have to put on first body lotion (see: rash, general tendency to get dry skin in the most annoying places) and then sunscreen, and it's throwing my entire morning routine out of whack and making me late and AUGH!

Note to self: When the Revolution comes, make proper phone manners enforcable by law. Actually, scratch that, make proper manners, especially when interacting with customer service people face-to-face or over the phone) enforcable by law. The proper response to "Have a nice day" is "Thanks," or "You too," asswipes, not a grunt or, like the woman in front of me at Tesco's the other day, completely ignoring the checkout girl. God. And for the love of fuck, picking up the phone and saying absolutely nothing is not proper phone manners in any fucking way.

Also on today's hate list: people who don't seem to grasp that when I say a survey will take about ten minutes, I mean it, so if they don't have ten minutes, they should just not take the survey instead of being all "Well, what do you want to know," and then getting all impatient when it--shock, gasp--takes ten minutes to get through the list of questions; my co-worker who keeps saying "ax" instead of "ask"; and the small-penised individual who tore through the parking lot earlier in the middle of lunchtime (way to risk running over your co-workers for three seconds time gain, ass.)

I'm really not in as bad a mood as all that sounded; I have strawberries, and I picked up a couple of nice, cheap t-shirts at Tesco's, and I had a rather hilarious mouthwash-mishap this morning^*, and I've not had any complicated cases dumped in my lap yet today (*knock on wood*), so you know. :)

^* Did you know it's possible to squirt mouthwash through one's lip if one doesn't have one's piercing in? Did you know one can squirt really damned far that way? Did you know it also smarts like a bitch? Well, now you do. :D

My name, Sofie, is derived from the Greek Sophia, meaning wisdom, of which Athena was the godess. The very first gift I got as a baby was a plush owl from my grandmother. Over the years, I've always liked her best, and I've gathered a small collection of owl statues. When I was studying Latin, I started to think of her as Minerva instead of Athena, but she's stil the same godess.

I've always strongly identified with Minerva. I'm smart, I like arts, and if push comes to shove, I will defend my home, even with violence.

Somewhere before I take off for the UK, I'm getting another tattoo done, of an abstractisised owL; it'll be on my belly somewhere.

Gonna go let some strange bloke poke me with needles. Have fun while I'm gone! :D

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Sel, when people tell you things about piercings, listen to them. Cause they know stuff and you don't.

I'm actually thinking maybe a cutting or a branding pattern. *looks at pictures* Actually, never mind. I'll go check for Celtic patterns.

It was a bit of a hassle to get the design I had for the tatt to the right size, which I hadn't realised I was supposed to do. So it was half past ten by the time I got back to the tattoo shop, and then i had to wait almost an hour for the customer before me to finish. For all my hyperactive nervousness during the afternoon, I was rather calm while waiting. I read in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone [for research purposes, of course], I looked around if maybe I could find the cat design I'm still looking for [no luck], I got msgs from Steve.

Then I got into the chair. The guy applied the design, I checked in the mirror, and it looked fine. He prepared the needle. I stuffed my [right] hand in my mouth and concentrated on my breathing, which is the only thing I know always works when I'm in pain.

The first few minutes, the pain was ... bad, but not unbearable. I'd say about a notch or two up from the pain I usually experience at the dentist's. [Local anesthesia doesn't work on my lower cheek.] Then, the endorphines and the adrenalin kicked in and the pain shifted to the background, ebcause I had this overwhelming sense of "Oh my god, what am i doing? This is going to be on my body forever! Nooo! Stop! I changed my mind!" but of course by then it was too late to chicken out.

And anyway, when it was done and I got to look at it in the mirror, it looked cool. I like. I don't regret it at all.

I just wish it'd stop aching. Owie. Nobody told me the pain afterwards was worse than the pain during. Bastards.

Anyway. From now on, until the day I die, there is going to be on the upper part of my upper left arm, this: