Camilla and DQ

People ask me all of the time if I have ridden in Camilla yet. Well, the answer is yes. I rode in her for the first time, back in October, when I was at a wedding and Mr. Bruises picked me up and drove us the to the end of the year SCDD banquet. I didn't write about it because A: I was too tipsy to give a crap that I was in her and B: I didn't have photos.

Last night, I rode in her for the second time. I am still shocked as hell at the ginormous speedometer that is in the middle of the freaking dashboard. I would hate driving that thing and having to look at the dashboard to see how fast I am going. I know, it's a rally car, yadda, yadda, yadda and it has another very small speedometer in the normal space, blah, blah, blah, I still think it looks silly. I feel like I am in a submarine when I am in her.

Now Mr. Bruises is threatening to get a "sister" for her, a convertible. Bring it on Bruises. Remember our last deal? I get a golden retriever for every car you own. Right now, I am owed two, three if you count the white truck and four if you get another Camilla wannabe. I will gladly have a gaggle of goldens!

Tattoo Time!

Last night, I went and got my tattoo at Jester's Court. Some of you will remember that I won a gift certificate at the Steel City Derby Demon's Championship game. This tattoo was also my "get even card" with Mr. Bruises for the whole Camilla situation.

Mr. Bruises wasn't too happy to find out where I was going. He had already pulled out all stops, at one point, offering to purchase my $250 gift certificate for $1,000. I turned him down. So, he finally pulled all his tricks out of his bag and told me that if I got a tattoo on my forearm, where I had been planning to get a dragonfly, that he would be ashamed to walk down the street with me. He said that I would be white trash and he would lose some respect for me. Well, you can imagine the fire that ignited within me.

Problem was, he planted the seed. The seed of doubt. Those who know me know that I really don't care what anyone thinks of me, I never have. That isn't totally true, though, I guess I care what one little, bitty person thinks and that is unfortunately, Mr. Bruises.

So, after much soul searching, I decided to bring up the idea of adding to my current tattoo that is on my foot. I've always liked it, however, once I started hanging around others with phenomenal artwork on their bodies, I realized how boring and plain my little tattoo was. We decided to go for the foot and Sean drew out this amazing dragonfly, with vines and flowers to kind of pull both of the tattoos together.

This tattoo hurt like a mother trucking whore. At one point, I was crying. Well, maybe not crying, but my eyes were watering terribly and I feared that I would have no teeth left from gritting them. Then, the unthinkable happened. I farted. I hurt so bad and was tensed so much that I cut the cheese big time. I thought everyone was going to die laughing, especially Clara and Jill.

I think Sean realized that I couldn't take much more. So two hours after he started jack-hammering ink into my flesh I was done. Once it heals, I can have him finish the few things that are left.

I am in awe of this tattoo. Every time I look at it from a different angle, it's a different color. My only regret is not going this route from the very beginning and totally bypassing that little, boring tattoo that started it all.

Upon my arrival at home, Mr. Bruises was waiting for me. It seems as though he thought all about his words and actions for eight hours. He apologized and said that he shouldn't have said those things and it was wrong of him to ask me not to get the tattoo. At this point, I took off my jacket and he realized I didn't get the tattoo where originally planned. My foot was still bandaged and he hasn't seen it yet, but I know he is relieved it is my foot. And technically, I still only have "A" tattoo!

Thanks for the awesome tattoo, Sean. Thanks for going with me Jill and thanks BB Basher for showing up and offering to hold my hand!

Paybacks are a B*tch!

So, the whole "Sometimes it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission" thing coming back to bite Mr. Bruises in the ass. I told him that I would be playing my card someday and that day will be very soon!

Mr. Bruises hates the fact that I have a tattoo on my foot. I've been wanting to get another tattoo for sometime now, but haven't because I didn't want to disappoint him. Well, the whole Camilla thing made me realize that I can do what I want.

At the bout on Saturday, I spent $20 on the 50/50 raffle and got a chance for a $250 Jester's Court tattoo done by Hannibal Refter. I stated when I was handed my ticket that it was the winner! Well low and behold it was!

I was so excited that I jumped up and screamed. I then ran right across the derby floor, while Queen of the Derby was going on. QOTD is a knock down, drag out, last girl standing battle for the barbed wire crown. It' wasn't until I saw the deer in the headlights look on Big F'n Ref's face that I realized I can really close to losing my life!

As I was coming back to my seat, Mr. Bruises had that horrified look on his face when he realized that his payback day is coming. I took a picture of it to record it in history. This is the moment that you realized that Paybacks. Are. A. Bitch!

The chalkboard wars!

We have a chalkboard that hangs right by our basement door. It's original purpose was to write messages or keep track of things we needed to buy. Through the years, Mr. Bruises and I have gotten into a couple of wars on it, where I would write something, then he would and back and forth.

The most recent one has to do with Camilla. I originally wrote that "Girls and Gays drive Mini Coopers" and it went from there. Please don't think I am hating on gay men. I love gay men, I would actually marry a gay man if I could. I have just never met another man, who owned a Mini that wasn't gay.

When the Comcast guy came to switch over our cable and Internet last week, I noticed that when he went to leave, he paused. I then realized that he was probably inspecting the chalkboard. To a perfect stranger, can you imagine what a sight this was?

My Scoot Scoot!

So last week, I finally went and officially took my test for a motorcycle learner's permit. I am finally legal. I will take my road test soon. Mr. Bruises hooked me up with one of the scooters that he sells at the shop. We agreed upon a silver and flat black one.

Imagine my surprise, when I came home last week and he brought this home. Looks familiar, huh? It looks just like Camilla! I promptly had a fit and told him to take it back. I didn't want a scooter that looked like his stupid car. So, he took it back and brought me home the correct one. I love my Scoot Scoot!

The Other Woman

For some time now, Nick has been babbling about getting a Mini Cooper. I informed him that those cars are owned by either women or gay men. I also informed him that he already had three vehicles already, two of which are four wheel drive vehicles that will never see snow or rain. I told him that if he wanted a Mini, that he should sell something first.

Well in mid June, I found out that he had already purchased a Mini, who he lovingly named Abigail. He not only bought it, but he hid it from me for three weeks in the big garage across the street from our house. Needless to say, I was not too happy with him.

He has tried to get me to look at her, to ride in her, to accept her. I will not. He needs to keep his end of the deal and sell something. He may call her Abigail. I, on the other hand, call her Camilla. She's British, she's the other woman and she's ugly.

So, what does any self-respecting woman do to the other woman? No, I didn't kick her, or punch her. What I did do, was brand her. Yes, I left my ass prints all over her. I wonder how long it will take him to notice?