I was a victim of my own naivete, when, while extremely intoxicated, I walked into a tattoo/piercing parlor, horribly ignorant of the "we do surgery too!" sign above and to the left of me.
An Overlooked detail and a bottle of Makers Mark; a cocktail of disaster when combined. Without hesitation, I, in a drunken stupor, mistakenly asked to have my LABIA pierced...now, given the fact that I am a male, the guy doing the piercing was understandibly concerned with my request. "You know, I am assuming that you're sure you REALLY want to go through with this procedure". "Just Do it, man!" I demanded. Now, first of all, It's one thing to go into his parlor drunk and mispronounce a simple word, but not knowing he was also a licensed plastic surgeon....how could I possibly miss that little factoid? Well after I awakened from the anasthetics, the mirror I was facing reflected a dissappointing portrait of my lower half, exposing the unexpected, yet, terribly noticeable mutilation I had undergone. However, I was thrilled to know that I was still in posession of my previous anatomy, placed just so in a smuckers jar filled with ice and water. I apologized to the piercing guy and explained to him that it was a silly misunderstanding, and that I was in desperate need of my previous extremities. We laughed, and laughed. Afterward the doctor surgically replaced my reproductive organs. In a display of common hospitality, he let me keep the labia I briefly sported for good luck....I even got it to hang on my neclace for a while, just like a keepsake! I never did get around to piercing my labret, though.
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I was a victim of my own naivete, when, while extremely intoxicated, I walked into a tattoo/piercing parlor, horribly ignorant of the "we do surgery too!" sign above and to the left of me. An Overlooked detail and a bottle of Makers Mark; a cocktail of disaster when combined. Without hesitation, I, in a drunken stupor, mistakenly asked to have my LABIA pierced...now, given the fact that I am a male, the guy doing the piercing was understandibly concerned with my request. "You know, I am assuming that you're sure you REALLY want to go through with this procedure". "Just Do it, man!" I demanded. Now, first of all, It's one thing to go into his parlor drunk and mispronounce a simple word, but not knowing he was also a licensed plastic surgeon ....how could I possibly miss that little factoid? Well after I awakened from the anasthetics, the mirror I was facing reflected a dissappointing portrait of my lower half, exposing the unexpected, yet, terribly noticeable mutilation I had undergone. However, I was thrilled to know that I was still in posession of my previous anatomy, placed just so in a smuckers jar filled with ice and water. I apologized to the piercing guy and explained to him that it was a silly misunderstanding, and that I was in desperate need of my previous extremities. We laughed, and laughed. Afterward the doctor surgically replaced my reproductive organs. In a display of common hospitality, he let me keep the labia I briefly sported for good luck....I even got it to hang on my neclace for a while, just like a keepsake! I never did get around to piercing my labret, though.
nothing like a healthy serving of meth to start the evening...
nothin' like a generous helping of meth to start the day!