Part of my resolution for 2023 was to not get any new tattoos. I’ve been getting tattoos every year since 2018, and I wanted to just take a year off to make sure I actually like tattoos and it’s just not a sign of poor mental health. I think it is particularly interesting that the urge to get ink in skin has been strongest when my mental health is bad, but not cratering. It’s my canary in the coal mine, if you will.
I have no idea why piercings won out in the ranking of culturally acceptable body modifications. They’re far more maintenance and mine literally damaged my ears. A lot of people have actually asked me how I have seven tattoos, but I’ve never felt the urge to get more piercings or dye my hair ever. My answer is that I’m fucking cheap and lazy, so if I’m feeling a little chaotic, I’d rather just get a pretty picture deposited into my skin forever than have to buy a specific shampoo for months only to have it all wash out in the end. Anyway, my resolution’s been going pretty good.
Here’s what I’ve been thinking about this week:
Liz Truss resigned as the UK’s Prime Minister, becoming the shortest-serving leader in British history at 44 days. The Daily Mail set up a head of lettuce to see which would last longer, and the lettuce has now won. She got laughed at by all her coworkers on camera. Here is a tweet of her in a crumpet factory.
We can all finally rejoice after James Corden has been definitively cancelled for screaming at servers. I mean, we all assumed he’d be that kind of person just based on vibes alone, but it’s nice to know that sometimes a hunch is just right.
Laneige has been under fire for animal testing. One TikTok shared an alternative list of products for a “cruelty free Amazon Prime Day,” which is a phrase that made me very conscious of how quickly we are hurtling towards our collective demise.
People on Twitter are fighting about chain restaurants again, which reminded me that when I first moved back to the States, someone told me the Cheesecake Factory was an upscale restaurant, so I waited three hours under the impression that the food was going to be spectacular. Now I fucking hate the Cheesecake Factory.
New York City held a press conference around the rat situation that gave us the quotes, “rats are not our friends,” and “the rats don’t run this city, we do.”
Nice things to consider:
I’m going to start telling the conservative girlies at home that I get their pain because I too am a military wife now (BTS has enlisted).
Radio Disney is lowkey so funny for inviting Kim Petras to perform her song about drinking and cocaine.
“Rats don’t run this city, we do.”
Something happened at midnight? Unsure.
Since we last spoke, I have been in grown-up reporting mode. I followed the story of four men who were found murdered and dismembered in Oklahoma. I wrote about Twitch streamer Amouranth who revealed she was in an abusive marriage. I continued my reporting on the serial killings in California. I wrote the return of Iranian rock climber Elnaz Rekabi, who competed without a mandated hijab. I made negroni sbagliatos. With prosecco.