And then I had another one of my brilliant ideas.
We were in the woods, at a friend’s house, a whole group of us. Playing made-up games like our version of Scrabble, in which players are forbidden from using real words, and must justify their made-up word by using it in a sentence. If it passes muster, it passes and enters not only the game, but our group lexicon. Such are the origins, future etymologists, of the words soon to sweep America: scunt (v), figscunt (n), Haneod (exclamation), and others.
I don’t really think we were looking for something new to entertain us. Our group never has to look. Entertainment cleaves unto us. But when the idea popped up, I couldn’t keep it to myself, so unfathomably genius was it.
“Hey guys! Let’s each write down a word, either ‘tattoo’ or ‘piercing’ and put our secret words into a bowl, and then everyone has to pick a piece of paper and do whatever it is!”
Yes, that was my genius party idea.
“Oooh,” said Shawn, appreciatively, I like to think. But then a look passed over his face. “Wait, that kind of sucks for the tattoo people. It’s a much greater commitment.”
“Pshaw,” I answered convincingly.
His look of concern didn’t ease, though, so I softened my approach.
“Look, the tattoo doesn’t have to be big. It could be small. Like, a dot.”
He frowned. “A dot? But tattoos should be of something.” He had a point. No matter, I had one too.
“Dude, don’t you see? It could be a point of reference.” My voice lowered in glee and delight. Genius is in the details, folks.
“That way, if you ever state anything, and someone asks what your point of reference is, you can just lower your collar or raise your sleeve or lower your jeans and point!” I was almost breathless in ecstatic anticipation.
This time he perked up too, and not only that, the whole group jumped in. The only thing is, compared to having your own personal point of reference tattooed on you, a piercing seemed sort of characterless and wishy-washy.
The bowl and the entire concept of chance was abandoned. We piled into the car, all eight of us, with Brooke and Phil singing their new song that we’re now hoping they’ll make into a book for kids, and drove to the tattoo parlor. Another brilliant idea by yours truly. 😉 Thank god I have the kinds of friends who’ll tumble into a car on any crazy whim!!! 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂