Tattoo you...

I intended to make today’s entry about bass playing, but an incident this morning made me change direction.   

Since I am heading out for a conference tomorrow, I decided to get my unruly mop top cut.   The salon I frequent is wonderful and I love my hairdresser, Robyn.     She’s great at what she does and is a really engaging person.  

I don’t know if this applies to men, but the culture of the salon is such that women tend to take filters off and say some of the things they would never venture to say in other public places.  A good hairdresser must have enough information on their clients to be a highly lucrative blackmailer if they so desired.

As I’ve mentioned in a previous entry, I have tattoos.  I have a lot of tattoos in fact, but in places that are very easily hidden by a hairdresser’s cape.    And while the area of the universe I abide in tends to be rather accepting of body art in general, there are a few people who apparently aren’t so liberal in their acceptance, as I found out today.

Another customer and I were getting our hair shampooed.  The conversation started innocently enough between one of the stylists and her customer about their type of “guy”.  And then the customer stated, “I like the guy next door, you know boyish, no tattoos”.   Now I could have been fine with this; “to each his own” as the saying goes.  Besides, there are only so many tattoo love boys to go about for us women who happen to really find them attractive.  But she went down this amazing tirade about how no one can take people who have tattoos seriously and how people who are inked will be regretful of their actions later on.   This went on for ten solid minutes of soapbox lecturing.   And the whole time the woman had no clue that the woman getting rinsed in the next basis was sporting more ink than Amy Winehouse.

Finally she ended up with “Well, when they are all old, how will they feel then with their ink”?

I stood up, took my arms with their half sleeve tattoos out and turned to Robyn and said “Well, my goal is to be that weird, fun and wild Grandmother in the neighborhood”.     While I probably didn’t change any opinions, the other woman did manage to shut up on the subject.

I know not everyone loves tattoos or body mods.  I don’t like over plucked eyebrows on women or the helmet hair hairstyle that seems to be preferred by Republican candidate’s wives.   But I have far too much to do in my life without being the fashion or body mod police.  You don’t like tattoos or ear plugs?  Fine don’t get them.   I can live with that.   But respect my decision too.  Life’s too short to be throwing stones, especially when your glass house is so transparent.

Oh to be GLADoS now that Spring is here

For those of you who aren't video game aficionados. GLADoS is a character from the game "Portal".  I first encountered GLADoS when my fifteen year old son went on a Portal 1 and 2 spree a few months ago.   Her name is the acronym for Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System.  She's the power behind the computer system in the game and has one of the most annoying voices since HAL3000 in 2001: A Space Odyssey.  


But she's funny as hell.  She says all the wonderful sarcastic statements that I would love to say to people I encounter at work and not catch hell (or have my work history end in an untimely fashion).


People think working for the Government is a complete cakewalk.  It really isn't.  You have to abide by arcane rules and regulations that would make Kafka cringe. You have to deal with people who spend their entire effort trying to circumvent "the system" or cruise through their careers like flickering ghosts on the public radar.   Government breeds stupidity at times and "good enough for Government" is a axiom to live by.  


I've been a public servant of sorts for over a decade and days like today make me feel the burnout in the deepest depths of my soul.  Most people go into government for two reasons--security and the hope that they can actually make a difference in being a public servant.  I \am still mostly in the later, though days like today keep pushing me into the former.  

Its been a busy week and projects and trouble tickets seem to slam into each other like bumper cars set to kill.  My staff is overwhelmed and overworked.  I'm overwhelmed and overworked.  And the stupid  questions keep coming about things I've answered at least a half dozen times before . Or I get a request for data on reports that no one ever reads but need to be filed yesterday and suddenly take priority over the fires that are already burning merrily out of control on my schedule.

Yes, I envy GLADoS and her snide sarcasm.  She also has the luxury of lacking a tongue that has to be bit every time a problem child moves into her line of vision.