2004-04-06
Ready to pop a cap
James has informed me that he would like me not to get a tattoo after all. He doesn't like girls with tattoos (this is news), and he thinks my body is beautiful, and getting a tattoo would make it less beautiful. At the time, I didn't really care because I forgot why I wanted to get one in the first place. This morning, however, was a fresh reminder. Last summer, I decided I wanted to get two revolvers tattooed onto my hips. I often have very violent feelings toward other people, and I thought I would perhaps feel better if I had guns on my hips, even though I couldn't really use them. Out of actually getting a real gun and using it (in various ways) and getting guns tattooed on me, I thought the latter would be wiser in the long run. I haven't really had anyone piss me off to the point that I'd like to do them serious physical harm (other than Chandler, who deserves it, but whom I've not touched) in a little while, and so I forgot about the whole tattoo thing. Here's to hoping I can get an actual gun instead for my birthday.
I'm Witch Baby, find out who you are at Fallen Angel
aigre-douce at 10:11 a.m.