It stays awake at night and hoots in the key of F.
First I went into the bathroom, took a photo of my fist, and questioned my hair.
Me: Hair, are you looking the way I want you to look? Should I rethink you?
Hair: I’m just hair.
I then signed a yellow sheet of paper to let everyone know that I don’t have AIDS and that I’m not drunk and that I won’t become froggy and unreasonable.
After that, I sat in a chair and let this guy do this thing. (It’s Zach Galifianakis!)
Ten minutes later? I walked out with gauze and trash bags taped to my arm.
Gauze and trash bags on my arm.
I promise I will do no harm.
My big black puffy coat is warm.
Someone ring the cheese alarm.
And now I have my mountains.
Initially, I wished that they were facing me instead of facing the world. (The artist told me that tattoos that face inward is a total Pinterest thing.)
Ah, but then I spent some time looking at the upside down mountains, and they slowly transformed into a very wise owl.
Thus it is, and so it goes.