In one hour, my week begins. I've come to see my life from a true bartender's perspective: my weekend is Monday and Tuesday, my week begins after that. Now that Josh is moving across country and I'm picking up almost every shift of Yonko's while he drives with Josh, I will be completely incomunicado for the next few weeks, spending my time off not being out at a bar, for fear of the Vietnam-esque flashbacks that that may bring on. (Speaking of which, I just started Dennis Johnson's Tree Of Smoke and so far, so good.)
Last night, I tried to cram it in a bit, knowing that for the next six days I'd be chained behind the bar, more or less. Janine and I ended up at Sticky Rice for some karaoke because we both wanted to see hot tattooed people, something you rarely see in Federal Hill. This neighborhood is where conversations about punk music, anarchy and other generally alternative topics, come to die. Not that I'm terribly into anarchy, but it is a nice break from the usual barely repressed NeoCon dialogue we get down here.
Hot tattooed people there were a plenty. To the point where it was almost sensory overload. We escaped to BAR for a nightcap. Also, Janine totally won karaoke with a rather sultry rendition of "Black Velvet". It was pretty hot, not gonna lie.
And so upon waking up today, a thought struck me. If I'm going to go on vacation up to Philadelphia at the end of the month, once Yonko gets back, why not take the opportunity to see what the world of Philadelphia ink has to offer me? So off it was to peroogle Philly tattoo artists. So not only do I get to escape Baltimore, escape work and get to see some of my best friends (who I haven't seen in WAY too long, by the way), I get to get started on my long awaited sleeve on my left arm. I. Cannot. Wait. It's going to be amazing.
Pics, of course, will happen.
- Kid
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