Happy birthday to me!

Yesterday was my 27th birthday. My gift to myself was a new hole in my ear. It's possible that I am experiencing an early mid-life crisis, but I actually really like tasteful body jewelry. [Warning: what follows is not for the squeamish]

I discovered a very fancy-schmancy body piercing studio right in a yuppie part of suburbia near my home. It was decorated with hardwood floors, glass and wrought iron sculptures, and track lighting. Not what I would expect, but quite pleasant.

A few moments after the needle had accomplished its task, the piercer ran out of the room, and came dashing back in with a wad of paper towels. Not a good sign, but I was already clued in by the fact that there was a drop of blood on my collarbone. (Thank goodness I'd worn a wide-necked shirt since we were heading out for a date after this!) He helped me get cleaned up and fixed whatever went wrong (even now I have no idea). I held a paper towel covered in my own blood while he finished the job, which was a little awkward.

I have now had a total of eight after-market holes added to my body, and this is the first time any piercing has ever bled like that. But I don't care what you say, I am very pleased with my birthday present.