I made mint Oreo chezcake cupcakes in honor of my baby girl’s 1st birthday!!
I don’t think I’ll make this recipe again, but I had to redo it because the first time I made them there was human error, totally on my end. I didn’t have the correct baking equipment. Ingredients: cream chez, eggs, sugar, creme de menthe, and mint Oreos. I’m not a fan of chezcake to begin with.
Here’s a recent photo of Appelsin, she likes sitting on this glass table shelf to show off her toe beans. She’s definitely become a little diva princess.
October has come and gone, because that’s just how time works. For Halloween this year, I was a repeat costume: white person in an informercial. It totally counts! …yes I drop things all year round, but on Halloween I get to really go for it. Potato Manor gave out glow sticks because we were the cool house of the neighborhood. The pack of glow sticks came with wands, glasses, headbands, bracelets, necklaces, rings, earrings….I think that was it? Ever since last year when my anxiety convinced me I was allergic to dairy, I realized that giving out toys is a much better idea than candy. When I was a young tot going trick or treating, one house gave coupins for bowling! I wonder if that is where my love of coupins came from?
Science Lesbian visited me for a couple days, it was amazing. Stranger Danger even visited too! So 2 out of my 3 close friends were in the same room with me at once! It was a comforting moment, that I unfortunately don’t get to experience often.
WOWBK: Words of Wisdom by Keely has been alive for 2 years! Well this blog anyway. I came up with the phrase WOWBK in 2013, I’ve been giving words of wisdom ever since I could speak.
Despite the constant nightmares of working on register, I think I have found a way to fight back. Well I hope so anyway. I see it as confronting my fears, but with an edible twist of humor, because that’s how I roll. Science Lesbian and I made a cake, not just any cake, a kitty litter cake. It was disgustingly fabulous. The cake was then delivered to my former job with a note attached saying “Remember when I had to work on register, despite having panic attacks? No hard feelings.”
I’m very proud of my swirly poop. The scoop was new, hence why the sticker was kept on as proof. Last time Science Lesbian visited, we made a boob gayke. Each time she visits we’re going to bake interesting cakes. It is decided! I’ll start a Pinterest board. Our lovely Litter Box was made of chocolate cake with almond buttercream, topped with crushed nilla wafers mixed with powdered sugar, then only the best poop shaped tootsie rolls. Such art!!!
The best time to deliver a kitty litter cake is when the health inspector is at the restaurant, followed by a bus. Timing is everything!
P.S. There was a pamphlet in Potato Manor’s door when I arrived home. A church was telling us to join. I told Birth Giver, “should I show up in my horns, asking if they accept friends of Satan?” Birth Giver did not reply….then again I was walking downstairs away from her as I was talking…
I’ve put off writing a blog post long enough, I had legit reasons for why, no motivation, depression increasing, extreme exhaustion, wrist pain, Appelsin sitting on me asleep and purring. I mean that last one I thought that I would never be able to move. Once a kitty lays down on you, you’re pretty much stuck in that position until they get up and leave. As the chosen bed for the world leader you can not get up. Just accept your fate and be proud. Appelsin is sitting next to me as I type this up. Orey is on my shoulder laying on the back of the couch looking out the window…he was there first, then I sat down so of course he had to lean onto my shoulder for support. He’s tubby, which may or may not be my fault, I give him treats because he gives me *those* faces. When I don’t give him a treat, I avoid his eyes, he follows me, continuing to stare at me until I cave. I end up going downstairs where he can’t follow me. We have an understanding, which is why his nickname is Tubby.
Orey just moved to the other side of the couch, I think he can read, he didn’t like the Tubby comment.
I believe it was last month I had this great idea to write a blog post, but I never did. So I’ll write it now.
To set the scene I dropped out of college in the fall of 2012, I lasted 2 years and a week and a half at Colby-Sawyer College. I’m surprised I lasted as long as I did honestly, I had lots of difficulty, not just with the work, but also my mental health. Campus Security was called on me at least twice. One time was because I cut myself with scissors, I didn’t have any plastic knives near me, which was my go to choice, because I couldn’t bring myself to use metal. A former friend called the heath center on me. Another time was because I turned my phone off so Birth Giver ended up calling Campus Security on me, having Campus Security knock on my dorm room was incredibly embarrassing, how I lasted another year was beyond me. This all happened my Freshman year.
I tried really hard in college, a lot of it I didn’t understand. When I would go to the tutoring place I didn’t ask more questions when I should have because I felt guilty for still not understanding the material after it was explained a bunch of times already. I liked some of my classes, but the material didn’t stick in my head. So when the exams came around I would always draw a blank on the answers.
I loved hanging out with my friends, and being in the clubs, I remember I told an upperclassman that I felt like I was at a summer camp the first week. I was having fun, perhaps I’m really good at pretending everything is okay when really it’s not? My Soul Mate in Friend Form was the first one to tell me how college isn’t for everyone. She was there for me during my multiple break downs, particularly one in the library. It was finals and I had waited till the last week because of course I did. I was in the basement of the library trying very hard to hold in a massive panic attack. This was Sophomore year.
I left during Junior year a week and half in, I already missed 2 days worth of classes, I couldn’t leave my room. My depression was getting worse by the minute. I felt extremely guilty being on my friend’s “Worst Roommates List” she hadn’t said anything to me about this, but I just knew I was on there. Plus my grandmother went to Colby-Sawyer College, she was so proud of me getting accepted that I didn’t want to leave or disappoint her. So I continued to suffer because I didn’t want to be the family disappointment.
When I got home I deleted so many college friends off of my Facebook. I was so ashamed for having to leave due to my mental health that I didn’t want to burden my friends. It’s been 5 years since I dropped out. I’m proud of my friends who have graduated, I’m upset that I burned those bridges with some friends, I can’t just “add friend” to a bunch of them because that’s just how I am as a Potato.
For a while whenever my depression and surprise bag of mental illness started to increase (usually around August) I would delete friends off of Facebook because of the fear, embarrassment, guilt, all around depression of not wanting to be a burden to everyone. Then in the Spring I would add them back, or try to. I would also just give up on the adding back, because of the thought of how obnoxious it must be to be deleted then added back.
There was another topic I wanted to do, but I forget what it was, plus this topic took a lot out of me, but it also feels powerful to finally let it out. As I was writing this post outside my window was moving day for a family of squirrels. I watched as Momma squirrel carried at least 3 baby squirrels out of a tree hole, one by one, moving them to another tree out of view from the window. I grabbed some photos and a video.
Left: Momma Squirrel is guarding the tree hole with baby squirrels inside.
Right: Momma Squirrel totally sees me
Since I’ve been forgetting to make great updates on my blog, (despite it being the home page for my internet…so I see it multiple times a day) I’ve decided to just post some of the noms I’ve been making.
Dog Cookies with Carob
White Chocolate Espresso Cake
‘Better Than Fries Potatoes’
Chicken Parmesan Bread Bowls
Sugar Cookies (Nibble out the hairstyle of your choice)
Peanut Butter Fudge
Box Mix cupcakes, with vanilla bean buttercreme
Whipped Cream on frozen fruit.
Momofuku Birthday Cake
Taco Stuffed Shells
Chocolate Whipped Cream on Chocolate cupcakes
I just had all 4 of my wisdom teeth taken out, so I’ll be out of it for the rest of the day. I recently adopted a kitten! So a post about my baby girl will be up soonish.
I noticed something on my birthday, April 3rd. Despite turning 25, I don’t feel, or rather I don’t see myself as an adult. In fact ever since I turned 18 I never see myself as an adult. I always feel like a child in this strange body. I’ve asked friends if they ever feel as though they are trapped in a body that isn’t their own, not in a transgender way, but as a “yo-this-body-doesn’t-fit-my-age.” Friends have informed me that no they do not feel that way. I let Birth Giver know, and asked if it was part of having Trisomy X, plus being on the Autism Spectrum, she said it is possible.
The event that gave me the epiphany:
T’was the evening of Monday April 3rd, this vision takes place at a Shaw’s grocery store. All I wanted was a toy in the 75 cent machine. The toy was called “Dogs in Disguises” Despite already having one- Diablo, a white dog disguised as the devil- I wanted to see what my chances were of getting a different one. I put three quarters in the machine and turned. CLICK. Open the flap, no toy. WTF! Shit, now I have to go get my refund of 75 cents. When this happens at Hannaford they give me my refund of 75 cents not problem, it has happened more than once so the workers at Hannaford know the drill. However Shaw’s did not know the drill. The workers at Shaw’s told me they don’t control the toy machines, since they’re controlled through a vendor. I know this, I just want my 75 cent refund. Lady from customer service followed me back to the scene of the crime, aka where robots ate my money. She asked a bagger what to do in this situation, he said he didn’t know, page the manager? Manager was paged, after a few more back and forth conversations, I was finally able to get my 75 cent refund. First I had to fill out a form, because of course I did. I put my preferred last name “Sir-Potato” since the whole ordeal was ridiculous. While this was happening, Birth Giver and her bf were wondering what was taking me so long. In the car ride back Birth Giver said from her point-of-view it was looking like ‘better give this grown ass woman her 75 cents back before shit goes down!’ Oh. This explains the reaction of the workers at Shaw’s, see I saw everything as, ‘humans are being rude! Robots ate my 75 cents, please just give me my refund and I’ll be on my way.’ This whatever it is, also explains the reaction from the bagger and cashier when I was offered the entire roll of stickers at Trader Joe’s one time. IT ALL MAKES SENSE! HUMANS SEE ME AS A GROWN ASS ADULT! SO OF COURSE THEY’RE GOING TO GIVE ME WEIRD GLARES, WHEN I DO WEIRD SHIT.
Since this power of knowledge has absorbed my mind, I of course have been reliving so many embarrassing memories, all of them are when I’m trying to fall asleep. So I’ll be up at night fighting my past memories, it’s difficult to fight them alone, which is why I’m so grateful that Boobsie comes running out of nowhere, to help calm me down. I usually fall asleep petting his fluffy belly, since I am allowed to do so. I also tend to wake up, with my hand still on his fluffy fur.
I think it’s interesting when I let other humans know that I am on the Autism Spectrum. They don’t believe me at first, but why would I lie about that? I’m not a believable liar, I would test lies out on a nosey neighbor, (made up relatives died) I mean there was that one time I convinced an elderly couple that Birth Giver named me Potato when I was born, because when I popped out of her I was such an ugly child. I have no idea how I was able to keep such a still face when telling them this, because every time I retell the memory I am cracking up. I bet it’s because of my great acting…which is like the acting in porn. Cringe worthy. I know I can’t act, which is why I’m always surprised when someone believes a lie. Am I learning how to properly lie? Or am I just magical? Probably magical, I am a changeling after all!
A teddy bear dog (Orey) snuggling a gay leather daddy teddy bear (Bun Bun):
Whenever I do or say something questionable, I tell myself “I’m an adult!” As though to make whatever I just did seem totally acceptable.
Yesterday I went to a Walmart for some shopping, I survived the holiday crazy. The mission to go there was because Boobsie needed a carrier, since on Tuesday he is going for a checkup at the vet. I succeeded with buying a carrier for my baby, despite having a massive headache due to the lack of caffeine. I didn’t have any coffee in the morning and it seems I’ve become addicted to caffeine…again. I suppose it’s one of those addictions that can’t be helped.
I read that I needed to slowly introduce Boobsie to his carrier, so that evening I tossed some treats onto the bedding for him to explore. I then tossed in a bag of catnip, and brought out the red dot. So Mr. Boobaloo could defeat that. After sitting at the end of my bed just staring into space, he decided that kneading my warm blanket (right out of the dryer) was a good time to fall asleep. Boobsie didn’t start out as my baby, but he claimed me as his owner, so now he is my baby. As I write this post, he is asleep in my arms…purring.
Winters are difficult for me, no motivation to do anything. I’ve been writing to do lists for myself everyday that have “Blog post?” written, but it’s difficult to even start writing. When I open up Google Chrome my home page is my blog, but finding the want to start typing seems impossible. I’m sleeping the whole day, but wide awake at night. During the night is also when I find flashbacks tend to show themselves on repeat. I can’t do anything about them since it’s from the past, so I just have to watch them go by. I can’t do anything to help my past self.
Last night I had another anxiety attack, from a flashback or upcoming event, I don’t remember which. I ended up deep breathing to help calm me down. That and petting Boobsie who turned around so his purring face was right up close and personal with mine. He was kneading my blanket, so his loud purrs helped calm me down. He really is my baby.
Fun Fact: I told Boobsie to bring me a squirrel after I let him out into the wilderness. The next day Birth Giver told me she found a decapitated squirrel in our front yard. I was told to stop requesting gifts from our cat, or else Birth Giver will put them in my room.
I usually don’t plan out what my blog posts are going to be about. I just let the words flow from my mind, down my arms through my fingers and onto the keypad of my laptop. Then boom there’s a blog post that has happened. So this one happened to be about how my Boobsie helps calm down my anxiety so of course I am going to work hard so my kitty has a better life.
I have been at my job as a baker’s assistant for over a month now, it’s been amazing so far. I actually want to go to my job to do my job duties. At other jobs it was just to see coworkers, as well as get those hours to receive a paycheck. However now the paycheck is a bonus! This job has everything I love to do: washing dishes, prepping, learning tips & tricks, plus cutting out cookies! I’m not baking anything, but I’m prepping cookies on the baking sheets, then once they are cooled I’m putting them on trays to display for the customers. Plus limited customer interaction!!
I’ve noticed that I’m losing some weight again, which yes can be seen as exciting, but not when it means that my jeans slowly fall down when I walk. My biggest annoyance with losing weight is that clothes don’t fit as well as they once did. Two years ago when this happened I decided to eat McDonalds for a couple meals to gain the weight back so my jeans would fit again. When I mentioned this to coworkers I received wtf looks. I can’t wear belts, because I am allergic to the nickel on the metal. I’ve tried the belts without the metal, but they don’t hold my pants up.
I found out that there are two cookies at my job that I can eat, because they are dairy free! The French Macaroons and the gingerbread people. How I found out I can eat the gingerbread people:
“Do you like gingerbread cookies? I don’t.” My boss asked.
“Yes, if there is not dairy in the cookies I can.”
*I looked at the recipe and saw that they were made with shortening and not butter!*
“Not that I need a reason to eat a gingerbread cookie, but what was the reason you asked?”
“They taste fresh enough right?”
“Yes. They’re delicious.”
A couple weeks ago an order was placed for 1,000 gingerbread people not decorated for the Saturday after Thanksgiving. We had made over 500 cookies when the customer claimed she never confirmed the order. So at the bakery there are 4 boxes of cookies in the freezer, in each box is around 11 bags with a dozen cookies in each bag.
The other day I was told pictures of my cat have been filling up a friend’s Facebook news feed. I told them they should be honored.
It’s currently 6am at the moment, so I need to finish my tea, get dressed and ready to leave. I need to be at work to clock in at 7am. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, due to waking up from being too hot or too cold or both at the same time. Yesterday it was 58 degrees, I was freezing cold, but too cold to get out from my blanket burrito to put on my winter jacket. I have obnoxious allergies.
Oh here’s some examples why I carry googely eyes with me:
As I walked into the kitchen to put my dirty tiny mug, that once was over filling with dairy free chocolate chips, into the sink since the dishwasher is clean and my energy to empty it is not present, I see a dog dish soaking in soapy water. This is when it hits me. She’s gone. I leave the kitchen to see Orey, a round (from too many treats) Bichon Frise Shih Tzu mix lying on the back of the couch looking out the window into the night. Bobo is curled up on a chair, his fuzzy little paw is hiding his face. The room is silent otherwise. I sat down on the couch looked up at Orey. “You miss her, don’t you? She’s gone.” I whispered to Mr. Rollie Pollie. I got up because I really had to pee, my bladder really knows how to ruin the moment. Orey followed me, because of his fomo. (fear of missing out) I went back into my room, to see Orey aka Hoover licking my floor (he’s a weird dog.) He’s having trouble getting on beds, so I picked him up he smooshed onto my blanket.
October 26, 2016 at 1:30pm is when my birth giver and I drove Winnie, a mutt of unknown breeds, to the vet to be put down. Winnie, or as I called her, Winifred Johnson had many nicknames, however her given name was Winnipesaukee as in Lake Winnipesaukee in Wolfeboro, New Hampshire. She responded best to Winifred Johnson though…or Winnie.
The past couple months had been really hard for her, she was in pain, she wasn’t taking her pills, (forcing a dog to take pills is not something that wants to be dealt with) she was having trouble pooping, but more recently every time she would get up she would yelp in pain. Waking up around 2am because your pet is crying in extreme pain, because her paws hurt, is hard to listen to. It’s hard the first time as well as the last time.
Winnie spent her last day, asleep on a feather blanket I have in front of my space heater. Outside it was in the low 30’s, inside my room the temperature was near 70 degrees. I called my birth giver a couple times, the first time to let her know that Winnie had tried to get up, but ended up crying in such a high pitched yelp that my chest hurt because of having to listen to her in pain, but not being able to do much. I put her pills in some turkey flavored wet dog food, she inhaled that as if it was her last meal. Winnie always was a little turd about taking pills, so for her to eat the food as fast as she did, told me that she knew something was wrong. You could see it in her eyes as well. She took her time going down the 6 steps to get to the front door so I could take her outside to go the bathroom. Having to pause at each step for a couple moments, waiting for the pain to pass enough so she could just walk down till the next one.
I called my birth giver, in tears saying how much Winnie was in pain, she couldn’t walk down the steps, she was yelping every time she moved her paws when lying down. It was painful for me to watch. I couldn’t handle watching her in so much pain. I took a shower, but I don’t know how much of the water was from the shower head, or how much was from my eyes.
It’s not a secret that I didn’t connect with Winnie. We rescued Winnie two weeks after our first dog, Bailey died of cancer on July 3, 2004. There wasn’t much time for mourning Bailey, because there was a new dog that needed love and attention. Winnie lived on the streets for at least the first year of her life. For the next 12 years Winnie was with us, I didn’t want her to be with us, since it felt too much like she was replacing Bailey. It hurt seeing her be in the house, sleeping on our beds. Bailey used to be there. That was Bailey’s spot. Winnie was so malnourished, but we fattened her up…or rather made her a nice healthy weight. I was at a summer camp when my family brought Winnie home, so I didn’t have a say in whether or not she stayed. It didn’t matter though.
I used to go on long walks with Winnie around my neighborhood. I stopped though because a golden retriever attacked us one day. The dog was behind an electric fence, except the fence wasn’t working that day, the owner didn’t realize the dog was outside, so when Winnie and I were walking by and the dog was charging at us, I kept thinking the fence would stop it. Instead this big dog was coming right at us. I tried to protect Winnie by putting myself between the two dogs, since Winnie was never great with other dogs, living on the street she was probably in a lot of fights. Winnie however kept trying to protect me by putting herself in between me and the other dog. The owner eventually noticed and came after his dog, trying to tell me that I should bring my dog back for another meeting in a closed area. I lied and said sure, so he would let me leave. Winnie and I didn’t go on our long walk that day, we turned back and walked home. That was the last time I went on a long walk in my neighborhood. I also developed a fear of big dogs.
It’s surprisingly hard to write about Winnie and memories about her. I was telling Science Lesbian earlier how I was okay about having to put Winnie down. I’m pretty sure that was just the denial taking over, I’m excellent at avoiding my feelings for things. Ask SMFF she’ll agree and tell you how I won’t admit that I love someone until it hurts to breathe because thinking of said human hurts me. When I finally admit it out loud, SMFF is there to tell me “So you’re finally admitting it. That took longer than necessary.”
All of those pictures were taken today, on Winnie’s last day. It sucks losing a pet, and it hurts too much to write anything more.
P.S. Thank you to the vet who called her a turkey, she was a turkey, even though she was a dog, and the dog is not a turkey, the turkey is a turkey, you turkey.
Another thank you to the waitress at Denny’s, you were extremely nice, even before my birth giver told you we just had to put our dog down. I wish we could give you a $100 tip, but unfortunately we can’t. The Rudolph cup, with antlers and a red nose, was what I needed to help make me smile.
A third thank you to the elderly man who walked by our table at Denny’s. He farted quite loudly. I laughed.
And as always thank you to Science Lesbian and SMFF, for being there for me, without judgement.
“How is molasses spelled?”
I recently got a job! I’m a baker’s assistant! This is a perfect job for me, I’m excited to go to work, and learn more about working in a bakery. For once I actually feel like I deserve getting paid for my job. It’s an unreal feeling, with my past 3 jobs I never felt like I deserved the paycheck. That could be because of my depression and other mental illness surprise box issues, but looking back I still don’t think I deserved getting the money for the jobs. I put a lot of hard work into my jobs, but I never felt noticed enough for the hard work….probably because of severe depression…
Today marks that I have had my blog for a year! It’s a nice accomplishment, I never thought that I would actually have followers. I started the blog as a way to escape both my mind and reality. It can be so noisy in my mind, and reality can be exhausting, so by blogging, I figured I can rant my thoughts out to anyone that wanted to listen. Watching the number of “humans creeped on this blog” increase has been very exciting! Having friends tell me that my blog has helped them, is incredible. Just what the whaaaat? Really? Whoa. I’ve been told that I have a great voice in writing, but my birth giver told me that, it was getting to the point where I was questioning if she was just saying that since she birthed me? Then friends were telling me that I’m a really great writer, but still I was questioning, is it because they’re my friends so of course they tell me my writing is great…I really am my biggest critic, for writing as well as the baked noms I make.
I’ve seen so many memes about how 2016 has been a horrible year, but I strongly disagree. I don’t want to say that I’m happy, because I will end up jinxing myself somehow…so I’m a strong content. I still have days where my depression is stronger, or my anxiety has a surge, so deep breathing doesn’t decrease the attacks, but for the most part I’m doing alright.
One of my strong complaints at the moment is that my allergy to dairy is obnoxious. I work in a bakery, 3 days a week for 5 hours. So that being said I’m surrounded by butter, milk, creamer, sour cream, cheeses, and so much dairy! I wear gloves, I’m washing my hands, I’m changing my gloves constantly, and yet I’m still having to flee to the bathroom because of the pain I’m in. Which usually comes with the anxiety of being scared of what if I have to give up this job? I then tell myself: “Fuck that noise!”
I worked earlier today, so that meant I had to wake up around 5:30am so I could arrive at the bakery a few minutes before 8am (when I had to clock in) I clocked out around 1:20pm, when I arrived back to Potato Manor (my house) I flopped on my bed and soon passed out. It’s exhausting work, but I love it so much. Plus that much interaction with humans tires me out. I am an introvert, so I need time to recharge after being in public. Which means I grab some snacks, something to drink, my baby…aka MacBook Pro, wait for Bobo to take up a good chunk of my queen size bed, and just relax. If something is too far for me to reach, well that sucks for me. I’ll try to parkour it, by seeing how far I can stretch to get it without having to leave my bed, but also not dying since the floor is lava.
The best way to hang out with my friends is sitting near each other on our phones, computers, reading books, just relaxing in each other’s company. My SMFF and I will sit in the same room and send dank memes or funny videos to each other on our phones. I love being next to a friend when they are reading or on their computer, or if I’m really lucky I get to watch them play video games. I love watching my friends play video games, it’s like listening to someone talk about something they love. It’s wonderful.
I’m exhausted still…but I wanted to do a blog post today because of it being a year ago I started this blog.
I came across my two favorite jokes when I was in elementary school. I don’t remember when exactly this happened, because time is a figment of your imagination. I’m not surprised these are my 2 favorite jokes, because honestly they describe me so much. One can be seen as offensive to others, but it’s a hilarious joke, so those who get offended need to chill.
Three people are running away from the police, a blonde, a red head, and a brunette. The police are gaining on the three when they notice a pile of potato sacks, seeing as there isn’t much time the three all agree to be animals hiding in the sacks. When the police get to the scene they kick one potato sack “woof” the brunette barked. The police kick another potato sack the red head hissed. When the police kicked a third potato sack the blonde called out “POTATO!”
How do you kill a retard?
Give them a knife and ask “who is special?”
I’ve been having a very difficult time trying to give myself motivation to even write a post. This is what fall season does to me, basic bitches will go post pictures of their Starbucks drinks, or pumpkins in bad filters, and I’m trying to find reasons why getting out of bed is a good thing. I get up to go pee, and then it’s back to bed for me. Depression sucks, anxiety sucks. Both at the same time is a workout. Why should I run when I can have an anxiety attack, it does the same thing for me: out of breath, heavy breathing, exhausted, sweaty, shaking, wondering why that was necessary?
I am actually okay with my weight, the only reason I need to lose weight is so I can get my tits professionally chopped off. I have to be at a safe weight for the surgery, so I don’t feel anything. Plus I figured if I stay this weight, I won’t get kidnapped. Fat humans don’t get kidnapped, eat cake, stay safe!
My birth giver told me I should write a memoir, because my writing skills are amazing, and I’m hilarious…or something like that. My short term memory isn’t great.
This post was just going to be an update of how my depression sucks and I’m trying to hold on, but I decided to make this about my tattoos.
My first tattoo was this faery shadow. I spent about 10 minutes or so trying to figure out how I wanted the colors of her wings. The faery is holding a blue rose, which I researched and apparently blue roses symbolizes fantasy. The freckle at the tip of her foot was not planned to be near my tattoo, it just happened that way. Science Lesbian told me it’s a potato. I agreed. Every human I meet ask if this is a shrine to Tinkerbell. It’s not, Tinkerbell is too innocent for this faery. The shadow is because I didn’t want to think of what she would be wearing, so colored in black with the color in the wings and rose was enough for me. Since this was my first tattoo I went into the tattoo shop anxious, everyone I had asked told me getting tattoos was painful and that this was going to hurt. Even the website said it would hurt getting a tattoo. As soon as the gun hit my arm, I asked when the pain would start. During the procedure I stated that this was the best feeling I’ve ever had, and if I had enough money I would want to be tattooed by multiple artists at once to soak up the comfort. The tattoo artist smirked at this response, I go in anxious thinking it will be painful, end up being upset at everyone who lied to me about this. I did research for a year or so what I wanted my tattoo to be, as well as where I wanted it to be located. I remember my birth giver picked me up one day from work, I sat in the car and informed her that I would be getting a tattoo the next day with money from my paycheck. She told me how my cousin’s wife has a tattoo that she regrets, how a tattoo was permanent, that I should really think about this. I responded I’m not my cousin’s wife, I know tattoos are permanent, that’s the point. Plus I thought about this decision for a while. When I asked to get my nose pierced she told me “it’s your body” so when she was hesitant about me getting a tattoo, I told her “it’s my body.”
My second tattoo was Hello Kitty. (Red bow) I was extremely excited to get this tattoo, despite my poor choices with who I went with to get it. I love Hello Kitty. Plus I believe in the saying “if you got it flaunt it.” My tits are huge! Getting Hello Kitty on my tit was a great choice. She became Hello Titty. Shout out to my eskimo sister for coming up with that name. A year later I got my fifth tattoo Mimmy White, Hello Kitty’s twin sister. It was lucky that I decided to put Hello Kitty on my left tit when I did, because of the bow placement. Mimmy White is known to have a yellow bow, whereas Hello Kitty usually has the red bow. Hello Titty became part of the Titty Twins. Getting Mimmy White on my right tit, felt like a piece of a coming clicking together. The Titty Twins are done by 2 different artists, which I like seeing the different art techniques. I could probably go and have Mimmy White’s eye fixed a little bit, but I’m not going to. She’s special looking (heh heh to joke number 2) and I love it.
My third tattoo was this bisexual pride symbol. Unfortunately it’s a matching set with someone, who I don’t talk to anymore because his views on life are insane! He’s basically like the Westboro baptist church of feminism. He’s one of the humans who’s views are so extreme that he makes other sane supporters look bad. We used to be great friends at a summer camp, then not having seen each other for 10 years he visited me. We went and got tattoos because tattoos are amazing. A couple months after that visit I saw his true personality, and that’s not what I needed in my life. I hate cutting humans out of my life, but it needed to be done. For a while I thought about getting this tattoo laser removed, but I decided to turn it into a lesson. Since I love this tattoo. Now when humans ask me what it means I say “basically it means I support everyone unless you’re a douche canoe.” The fact that my former friend is trans has nothing to do with why we don’t talk anymore. His personality of claiming to be right all the time, then if someone called him out on his shit he would get them to back off by saying “stop oppressing me!” He wasn’t using the word in the correct context, and he wouldn’t own up to his shit. That bothered me. Plus he couldn’t see the humor in the shit life throws. Everything was horrible, and not to be laughed at. I just rolled my eyes, because of how ridiculous he is.
My fourth tattoo I got on a Friday the 13th. So this tattoo ended up costing $13. My mental state was not the greatest time to get a tattoo, in fact I should not have gotten this tattoo. For a couple years this was a huge regret. I got this tattoo with the Shopping Cart, he has Skeletor on his arm….or he did I have no idea if he still has it or not. The theme for these Friday the 13th tattoos was 80’s cartoons. I saw the outline of my tattoo drawn on a sheet of paper with other 80’s cartoon characters, it was the cutest one on the paper. What was my main reason for picking this tattoo out? It was cute. Yes, I am one of those humans! When the artist was done with my tattoo he asked me the following:
“Is Orko your favorite character?”
“Orko. The character on your forearm.”
“Oh. What’s he from?”
“He-Man. You should probably watch a couple episodes.”
“Nah, I’m good. Now I can be one of those humans who has a tattoo from something I’ve never seen!”
My former Boss Man watched the show growing up so he thought I was ridiculous for getting this tattoo. Well he thinks I’m ridiculous for other reasons so it’s whatever. A year after getting this tattoo I researched Orko on Wiki for 5 minutes. I gathered what I needed to know, turns out I have a lot in common with this character.
(The scars next to my tattoo are from a time I thought that catching a baking sheet with my arm was a smart choice. It just came out of the oven with cookies on it. The cookies didn’t fall, but I earned my baker’s tiger stripes. I laughed when this happened, because it was a stupid idea, but it was hilarious.)
My sixth tattoo was the word Changeling on my left forearm. If you’ve been following this blog there’s really no need for me to explain why I got this tattoo. If this is the first post you are reading, welcome to my blog! Go read the other posts to understand more.
My seventh tattoo was my Potato! I asked Science Lesbian to sketch it out for me and she did! My Potato is on my left shoulder, which I found out it where the Devil sits in the cartoons of an angel vs the devil. I researched that. My Potato is holding a red notebook and a purple pen, so he can write down my notes. He’s my Shoulder Assistant, the red notebook is because red is my favorite color, the purple pen is because one of my nicknames is Purple Majesty, which is a type of potato. The three spuds indicate my past, present, and future. My former Boss Man was so surprised when I got it, he didn’t think I would go through with the thought. Which is stupid, because it’s me. When I say I’m going to do something, I plan on doing it. When it happens is a surprise.
My eighth tattoo is another Friday the 13th tattoo. This year’s theme was bad luck, so those squiggly lines are to say that the sashimi is rotten. I saw it as a spirit finger type thing. Plus my love for Japanese culture I had to get this design. My friend Ms. Rapture likes to introduce me as: “This is Potato, she has a tattoo of a rotten fish on her arm.”
When I got my first tattoo I told my then doctor that I would stop self harming and get tattoos instead. I kept that promise, I don’t remember the last time I cut myself. There have been time when the urge was strong, I did give in a couple times, but I haven’t in a while. I’ve gotten tattoos instead. I’m currently thinking of another tattoo to get, but I need to do more planning.