I have wide feet.

OMG you guys, if you ever thought that having tattoos removed couldn't possibly hurt more than having them put on, you were W-R-O-N-G.

The place itself was weird because it was like a cattle call of former gang members and their girlfriends, all getting their face tattoos and misc gang tattoos removed...and it turns out that none of these people have learned to follow the rules of common courtesy -- like, PUT YOUR PHONE ON MUTE, DICKHEAD!

But I guess they never had the luxury of working for me, because these are the things I hammer into the heads of the people who work for me -- so much so that now I don't even have to tell the new ones because the other ones do. Like "Keep your hair tidy, don't have a chipped manicure two days in a row and don't chew gum" and then I love the old ones A MILLION TIMES MORE for saving me the trouble.

(And the best part is that I know they all understand how important these things are now that I've pointed them out.)

(And they'll all also tell you that my NUMBER ONE RULE is to take care of your skin. Sunscreen, moisturizer, etc. My world ages the crap out of people so pay attention young ones! Want to be 23 and look 30? Then don't listen to me.)

But back to the tattoos.

Here's the before (though the 15-years-ago version of the before had this looking much more purple and yellow and white, but apparently your feet don't have any fat so they don't hold color for shit):

And then I suffered though WAY MORE PAIN (but for a much shorter period) and now it looks like this:

I neglected to take a before picture of the one on my leg, but it's another small one. I totally don't get why it's SO MUCH WORSE looking than the one on my foot, but this one doesn't hurt at all...whereas the foot one feels like, OH HEY, someone tried to burn the skin off:

I really don't think it's supposed to look that bad, but it does so oh well.

I'll also add that these photos don't accurately represent the swelling. 

Fun Facts About Tattoo Removal:

1. It hurts LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER. Probably the worst pain I've ever allowed to be inflicted on myself. I'm trying to think if I've ever felt worse pain and I'm reminded of how bad it hurt when I broke my hand, but I DARE say that this hurt more. It was less of a hurts-to-the-core pain of a broken bone and more of a "OMG SOMEONE IS TRYING TO SCRAPE MY SKIN OFF RIGHT NOW MAKE THEM STOPPPPPPPPPPPPP" pain.

It DEFINITELY hurt more intensely (but for a shorter duration) than when I had my tonsils removed at 29 years old, which is my other litmus test / pain measurement.

If you ask my family, I have a high pain tolerance...so if I were to ever have a baby I'd want to do that shit naturally for a variety of reasons, but if it were anything in comparison to this pain (and I'm guessing childbirth is way worse), I'd probably be screaming UNCLE UNCLE UNCLE pretty quickly.

I felt realllllllllllllllllllly bad for the dude after me who was applying an ice pack to the giant "S" on his cheek that he was apparently going to have removed. (This same dude also had "Elizabeth" tattooed on his head, which I think means I should probably date him.)

2. The area turns completely white for several minutes and it continues to hurt and your head is all confused because HOW DID YOU LET THIS HAPPEN TO YOUR OWN SELF??

3. Then it looks like the pictures above and once your nervous system returns to normal an hour or two later, you can imagine wearing shoes again one day.

4. I walked out of this place and learned that tattoo removal sparked the third time ever I've been like "OMG I NEED A DRINK." Luckily, Leslie was available for some day drinking.

So there you go, folks.

Tattoo removal aint for the weak, but it's my own damn fault that I'm even in a position to know.

Things

In other news, I don't really have any other news to report. Let's try anyway:

1. Sunday I'll be running the 408k, which means that by Monday I may need double knee replacement surgery.

2. Tomorrow I'm having the first of I'm-not-sure-how-many tattoo removal sessions.

Ladies, I do not recommend getting tattoos A) when you're under 30 or B) that are in any way related to dudes you are dating when you are 19.

I've been staring at that thing for at least the last 15 years thinking "OMG YOU'RE SO TRASHY AND STUPID." I didn't get it BECAUSE of him, but he paid for it and the tattoo and the dude are related in my head. If I actually liked the tattoo I'm sure it would be different, but I don't, so they're connected.

For bonus excitement: I am anti-med spa and the only other place I found that did tattoo removals was this once-a-month pop up gang tattoo removal non-profit. I called them and confirmed that they did not discriminate against my non-gang-related tattoos, but HOOOOOOOOOO BOY, I'll betcha that'll be worth a blog post or two.

So that's what I'll be doing Saturday afternoon: Kicking it with former gang members who are trying to get their lives straightened out. WATCH ME FIND A NEW BOYFRIEND THERE. Probably one who is getting his life back together by working as a shipping and receiving clerk...because I can't seem to ever date NON-shipping and receiving clerks.

Or college graduates.

The gang member / former gang member thing will be a first though.

DON'T WORRY MOM AND DAD, I AM KIDDING.

Probably.

3. I am waiting to get to the part of weight loss where you lose enough weight that your joints stop hurting like motherfuckers. I'm fine with muscle soreness, but OMG MY KNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES. I know that knees are troublespots with even skinny people, but they say that even small amounts of weight loss reduce the stress on your knees by whatever percent.

SO WHEN'S THAT GOING TO KICK IN!?!?

The other old lady wah wah wah I have is that I did something to one of my hands (I think while riding my new bike..that I don't think I ever reported out on here, actually) and now I can't do pushups on my palms -- I have to do them on my knuckles and now my knuckles are getting ugly.

4. But yeah, I got a new bike! It was my own gift to myself and I love it:

I've been riding that thing every weekend -- like to Dailey Method and back...so I'm getting double workouts. In theory I'll start riding it to my boxing classes once the time changes this weekend, but there's a lot of hood between me and the boxing class so it's not exactly scenic. I dunno though. We'll see.

Five Star Day

I am not known for my good mood during the holiday season. All the happy people tend to bum me out and then in recent years I've worked for a client that shuts down between Christmas and New Years, which means that I end up with a lot of time on my hands, which is also never a good thing for me.

Wah wah, my life is so hard, I am on vacation, blah blah blah.

I know.

But for reals, the holiday season is not a good one for me.

THIS holiday season, I'm pleased to report, has been really good though!

HURRAH!

Take my Monday, for example:

I spent the morning going to my Dailey Method class with Morven, our Australian exchange student's wife (they're in town for Christmas). Quality sweating time with one of my favorite people, with bonus baby squeezing (her baby and my miracle niece) when I went to pick her up.

Then I went to San Francisco to brunch and museum with my friend Christopher. He has a membership to the Cal Academy of Sciences and I don't know how we got to discussing that we'd go, but we did, so we went. It's a really cool museum that opened up while I still lived in SF, but I never got around to going despite it being RIGHT THERE in my backyard AND on my life list.

We got the last two passes for the 3:30 planetarium show (and were very proud of ourselves for our good fortune) and wandered around looking at stuff for like 15 minutes before the fire alarm went off and the whole place was evacuated. Okay, fine, we'll evacuate, but let's go to the bathroom first! OOH! GOOD IDEA!! NO LINES, HOLLER!

So we took our sweet time evacuating, but when we finally did, we found a park bench and Christopher produced two Tootsie Pops from his murse and HOT DOG, I LOVE TOOTSIE POPS! So while everyone else was crowded around waiting for the "emergency" to be resolved, we relaxed, enjoyed our suckers and did some people watching.

We were let back in at the EXACT RIGHT TIME for us to make the 3:30 planetarium show (again, very proud of ourselves for our good fortune) and after a quick trip around the universe, we saw the rest of the museum.

When I dropped Christopher off back at his apartment I had the thought that OOH! Maybe I'll see if Cousin Kristina is available for a drink! It was an idea suggested in a Facebook thread the week before so I sent her a "What are the chances you're sitting around right now wishing you were drinking champagne, because I'm in the city and could either go home or have champagne with you" text.

And magically, not only was she available for champagne, but she was with Cousin Eleanor and they were about to go to dinner and would I like to join them?

HECK YES.

So I met them at the proposed restaurant and I'm not sure why there was a last minute change of heart re: Papalote, but that's fine because plan B was a restaurant that has been on my To Try list for a while. YAY!

So my totally serendipitous day suddenly not only included champagne with Cousin Kristina and Cousin Eleanor, but we were able to try TWO items on the list of 100 Things to Try in San Francisco Before You Die (the eggplant from the 2009 list and a cocktail from the 2010 list), which all translated into a lovely, lovely evening with my people.

I would like more days like that please, Universe.

1301.1 miles in three days!

Okay NOW it's time to tell you about Oktoberfest #2 which was the first event in a weekend full of events. Well...second event, if you count the alien sighting:


SEE? Aliens!

Did you know that aliens care about child safety seats too??


But back to the human-related events.

This whole trip started with the wigwams and then it somehow ballooned into the wigwams and Oktoberfest in Vegas because OH HEY, WHY NOT? Plus, for bonus WTF we threw in *camping* in Vegas.

Stop and think about that one for a minute.

Camping?

In Vegas?

Yes.

Not Vegas proper, but Red Rock Canyon, which is only a hop, skip and a jump from Las Vegas so one minute "we" were setting up a tent and 15 minutes later we were listening to the Oktoberfest #1 CD and pulling up to our dinner destination for the evening.

So if you're keeping track, that's one night in a tent outside of Vegas and one night in a wigwam in San Bernadino.

VIP all the way, baby.

BUT SERIOUSLY, ELIZABETH? CAMPING?

Yep.

It really wasn't so bad though and DARE I SAY, I'd be willing to do it again?? Maybe not in VEGAS, but at the beach or in the wilderness or something and as long as I have a trusty camping concierge with me to make it all happen.

For example, I was not in charge of any of the camp set up activities:



Or any of the camp break down activities:



I'm sad to say I ended up not using my standing-up-to-pee device (other than the test-run in my bathroom at home) because the bathrooms, while without the running water I was promised, were like the nicest outhouses I've ever used and were a 30 second walk from the tent:

Plus, the moon was really bright and there were people in surrounding camp areas so I felt bashful about busting out my lady-pee'r so I just used the official bathrooms.

Once camp was all set up and our very expensive $10 fee was paid to the BLM I put on my pearls and my fantastic gold jacket and we hit the town for David's traditional Oktoberfest bonanza:


We made friends:

That's James, AKA the sweetest waiter EVER.

This is Fritzie (Joan, I told her about YOUR Fritz!):


Fritzie was there celebrating her first anniversary with her lady, whose name I do not recall:


I tried to teach David about the self portraits:


But he was not particularly cooperative:

I can report that the songs and the festive atmospheres at both Oktoberfest #1 and #2 were the same but Teske's didn't have the same dirty giant-horn-related party games, the beer stein holding contests or the girl's beer chugging contests that the Vegas version offered.

The big let-down of the night:

I pussed out when it came to entering the girl's beer chugging contest.

The problem was that they announced that it would happen in 30 minutes so I stopped drinking my own beer so I'd have room to chug what I thought would be an entire liter of contest beer. BUT THEN it took closer to an hour before they got on with it and this delay sobered me up to the point where I was no longer willing to go get in front of everybody and show them my mad skills.

The salt in the wound: It turned out that the ladies only had to chug HALF liters which is CHILD'S PLAY and I didn't even need to stop drinking in order to accommodate that puny little amount.

GRR.

David and James were very disappointed in me.

The party eventually wound down and the restaurant was closing so we moved on to stop #2, a place David assured me would be really cool and it was really cool except that when he directed me into the Peppermill parking lot and I was like "OMG LET'S GO TO THE FIRESIDE LOUNGE!" He didn't know that there used to be a Peppermill in Cupertino and that I was already well acquainted with the magic:



We made it back to the "hotel" safely and then after a not-so-awesome night's sleep on the ground (turns out, my camping companion snores, which was an exciting bonus that I rectified for the next night by sending him to buy me some ear plugs), we got up, packed up and went on a scenic drive of Red Rock Canyon.

I was like "Please be sure to get less of me in these fat pants and more of the rocks" and this is what I got:


Smart ass.

Take two:


More rocks:




And then we drove to San Bernadino and OMG ARE YOU BORED OF THIS UPDATE YET??

Well let me spice it up for you:


That's right, I'm on a tractor in front of a wigwam.

The interior of the wigwam was pretty standard motel'y and the shower SUCKED but it didn't end up on my life list because I thought it would have 400 thread count sheets and a jacuzzi tub, but it was clean and only half of the TV channels were fuzzy. Besides, after my two hours of sleep on the desert floor the night before, I kind of didn't care. I was READY for a shower (however ineffective) and a real bed (however firm).

It was Halloween night and in my head I had grand plans that we would go tie one on at a local San Bernadino bar or whatever but the reality is that A) I WAS TIRED and B) San Bernadino SUCKS so we mustered up the energy to go out for a crappy dinner and, from what I hear, my ear plugs and I passed out about seventeen seconds after my head hit the pillow.

It's really a shame that San Bernadino is such a HOLE because the Wigwam Motel is great and I'd love to see them kitsch it up and have theme rooms or something but the unfortunate reality is that sure, it's on Route 66, but otherwise it's in a crappy area that I can't imagine anyone going out of their was to visit. Other than us, I guess.

BUT, it's like an OASIS:

Good ol' #117:


When we checked in we were told that #117 was near the garden...and sure...it was...kinda:

Mostly it was just a patch of sorry-looking plants. That's David going on a hunt for the chilis the guy said were back there and invited him to sample.

Goodbye, Wigwam #117!


BUT WAIT! THAT'S NOT ALL!!!

The McDonald's museum is just a hop, skip and a jump from the Wigwams!


I totally remember these hamburger jails and I also remember being TERRIFIED of ever getting in one because WHAT IF I WAS UP THERE AND A KID WAS BLOCKING THE EXIT AND I COULDN'T GET OUT AND MY MOM DIDN'T SAVE ME AND I DIED?!?!?!?!?!?

It appears that only 50% of us shared that concern because that's a 6'Something man you see crammed into that thing.

It wasn't really much of a museum though...it was more like a collection of crap. I'm sure my dad and his museum homies would be able to give the exact definition of "museum" versus "crap," but if the diorama right inside the door is a 4th grader's school project, then I'm going with CRAP:



There were plenty of giant-sized McDonald's characters for the photo opps though. This one in particular wasn't intended to be so suggestive but shoot -- the other pictures of me and the Hamburgler all feature excessive chin (on me).


Grimace! But like a furry mascot-looking version of him:

Yeah, I don't know what that face means.

The man himself:


SEE? OMG CHIN! It's horizontal AND vertical!

But enough of that.

And enough of this EPIC, 1300 mile blog post.

We had a great time, the end, HIGH FIVE!

I'm trying to think of a politically correct title but I can't.

I'm going to be staying here in a couple of weeks:



WHY?

Well why the hell NOT?

Actually, it's on my life list, believe it or not. I don't know where I heard of it but I was recently reviewing my list and it's there -- with the website and everything!

So I'm going.

Wigwam: BOOKED!

I was reading the Yelp reviews and this tidbit HAS TO BE SHARED:

"Our friends Mike and Cassie were checked in by a midget (ok, little person) wearing a bolo tie, hooked up to a respirator."

I can't wait!