17-Oct-2006

Please prepare yourselves for a slightly disgusting story.  Okay, correction.  I didn't used to think this was disgusting, until I told the Fiery Redhead about it, and she said, "That's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard."  I decided then and there never to tell her about my love of Cool Ranch Dorito and mustard sandwiches.  So here goes... I have always had a problem with pierced ears.  Not other people's.  Mine.  My right ear, in particular.  Every time I go for 24 hours without wearing an earring in said ear, my cartilage goes all Zsa Zsa Gabore and the hole closes.  So, about once a year, I make the journey over to the Claire's in Westside Pavillion and get my ears re-pierced, and every time, I feel like I've accomplished something significant.  Especially when they give me that bag - you know the one, you probably remember it from when you were ten.  It's bright and pinkish red and blares, "I Just Got My Ears Pierced at Claire's!!!"  I swear, it feels better than voting.  The one beef I have with Claire's (okay, besides the mini-highlighters and handcuff earrings they're peddling) is that everyone can see you while you're getting your ears pierced.  People stop in their tracks on their way to Papyrus just to see if you'll scream.  Today's crowd included a middle-aged woman with her toddler and a dwarf lady with big bangs.  And I did not scream.  I didn't even need to hold the teddy bear.  Fuckers.