Putting wristbands on people’s arms and stuff

I volunteered at the Seattle Tattoo Expo on Sunday. It was really…exciting. My feet hurt.

Waaahh.

Erase all memory of what I just typed because I’m not backspacing tonight baby. My new hit song. In stores later.

I’m not backspacing tonight baby

Your keyboard is not for me

I just want to hit Esc

1, 2, 3

The expo was fun. Really, it was. It completely fed my curiosity and people stalking needs. I got to slightly graze people’s arms and wink at them, none of which I did.

As soon as I reached the volunteer zone, I met the volunteer co-ordinator who looked like the English Bull Terrier puppy she was carrying (I do hope I never see her again or have to hear her say the words: “You’re hired”. THAT would be awk-cool-ward”). Nice girl. Told me I had to make copies and assist her but that was a lie.

That’s OKAY. I never expected an air-conditioned cube with my own “Volunteer of the Month” badge, though it would’ve been nice. *tosses hair back”

She needs a wristband

I was sent to the entrance area, aka the Box Office, aka the place where they took people’s money. So here’s where I came in. I know you’re thinking, “OMG. Cash register!? YOU GO GIRL”. No. Don’t talk (think) to me like that. It makes me want to punch you.

I was the girl putting red wristbands on people’s wrists. I was important. Without me, they’d need to pay $20 more to re-enter the awesome expo. $15 if they had military ID. I did what I had to do. No matter if the wrists were thin, fat, hairy, sweaty (oh yeah), or so tiny that I had to wind the damn thing three times around that little “I don’t wanna be left out cuz I’m under 12 boo hoo hoo” crap, I did my thang. THANG. Okay that last part was mean. I am not mean. I’m just trying to find my writing persona. I can be anyone, even myself.

Put that down kid. You don’t need that until you’re 18. “Moooommmm!”

I did the wristbanding for 4 hours with another volunteer, who was definitely NOT volunteer of the day. I purposely stuck it to hairy men’s wrists just so they know that we wax because WE WANT TO. Not because you tell us to. One man was really nice. He just stops looks at me and says: “You’re really beautiful.” Usually my response is, “You should meet my sisters,” but they weren’t there…the lamers. So I just said thanks like a lamerer.

If this is not beautiful, I don’t know what is

As soon as I finished my 4 hours of doing the best job in the world, I checked out with Miss Bull Terrier (sweet girl. Probably wants 2 kids to feed organic veggies and beef to) and went straight to do what I went there for — to eat fries.

I ate a huge plate of fries. And my purse strap broke.

The tattooing area? It was amazing and noisy. Imagine about 20-30 artists in one room, all tattooing people. I’ve had about 10 billion Fusen tattoos on my body and I don’t need any more right now. Nothing about seeing so many tattoos even made me want to get one. I did love the art and so I admired it. I have no idea how painful it is but it sort of seemed worth it…and I probably don’t know what I’m talking about.

She was magenta. Last name Smith.

I just know that the booth with the boring people in the white coats and a sign saying “Laser Tattoo Removal”, was the emptiest. Somebody forgot to tell the “doctors” that the Seattle Un-Tattoo/Bad Decision Expo was the week after.

I would love to volunteer here again. I would even love being CEO. But I just got a call. They said my song “Backspacing” is now #1 on the Billboard 100 charts.

I have to go swim in money right now and forever.