I feel I'm wastin' my days

I used to have my eyebrow pierced. I did it sophomore year of college. Lizzy and Carlos went with me. We went to some place down by Johnson & Wales. It cost $27 and took six weeks to heal. Ish. And it itched. But I loved it. I took it out the summer before senior year, intending to replace the ring with something else, but I... never got around to it. And now it's closed up, and now I miss it. I would get it pierced again, but facial piercings are not allowed at Bath & Body Works. Although, with my glasses, the eyebrow ring was hardly noticeable--I liked that. It was subtle facial mutilation. Maybe I will get it pierced again anyway, if I ever get around to getting that tattoo. (Guess what else is not allowed at Bath & Body Works.)

What do I want to get a tattoo of? Guess. No. A book. (Nice try guessing the letters BC, but my love for Brandi Carlile is not that insane.) An open book on the inside of my arm (I still haven't decided right or left yet). The other thing I haven't decided is if I want the book to have words in it. Ideally, I would ask for the first sentence of my favorite book to be on the right page, but the first sentence of A Wrinkle in Time is, "It was a dark and stormy night." That's too cliche. And Goodnight Moon is too juvenile for a tattoo, I'm thinking--plus, it's no good without the pictures. I don't want the tattoo to be that big, so maybe I should just get an approximation of text, rather than actual words that would be impossible to read and take too long to etch into my skin.

I will not talk about the Red Sox today, because my heart can't take it.

But I will talk about Brandi Carlile, because I can't stop. She did this Elvis tribute concert thing on ABC the other night, singing a duet of "Love Me Tender" with Chris Isaak, and while she was entirely lovely, she looked orange again. What the hell? Also, we have this stupid hand cream at Bath & Body Works called Glove Me Tender (queer!), so while I was doing inventory last night, I kept singing "Glove me tender, glove me true..." and then contemplating slamming my hand in the doors of the service elevator to make it all stop.