SNACK ATTACK.

Long time no talk. I missed you.

Big news here at Tiki - We have a brand spankin' new vending machine. I named him Juan.
I also taped pictures of dinosaurs and bodybuilders onto him, just to help him man up a little. He's been doing well so far. We've stocked him with a plethora of delicious snacks, including fruit snacks which are, in my opinion, better than...Well. You know.

I've also been piercing more. Hold tight, loyal followers - before you know it, I'll be needle-deep in your (insert body part here). And then you'll skip off into the sunset, the happy owner of a shiny new piercing. I'll stay at Tiki, awaiting the next wonderful customer. Life will be good.

I'm also solidifying my plans for this summer. When I'm not piercing, I'm usually studying, and I've decided to do my honors thesis on body modification. If you happen to be interested, I'd love to talk to you about body modification. I don't bite, I promise.




Nom nom,
Seth

It's freakin' snowing.

There's something you all need to know about me. I feel as though it's a piece of information vital to our relationship. I've tried to hide it from you, but to no avail. It's time to come clean:

I hate snow.

Not like, a little. A whole lot. Unnatural, inhuman amounts of hatred. I can't stand to be near it, play in it, or drive on it. Especially the last one. I am epically bad at driving in snow.

So, today, when I woke up to see what I considered to be a snowstorm of apocalyptic proportions, I was less than enthused. My partner says it was only a couple flurries, but I refuse to be coaxed into enjoying the snow.

I fishtailed and hyperventilated pretty much the entire way to the highway. I repeated the mantra "ohmygodohmygodohmygod" about nine thousand times just for good measure. One I'd slipped and slid my way into a parking lot, I called in stuck. It's like calling in sick, but with more nervousness and less bacteria. Fortunately I'm one of those people with a total inability to hide my emotions, and I'm pretty sure I accurately conveyed to Niki that snow is the bane of my existence.

My partner, who is fearless and very good looking and exceptionally talented at driving in any condition, came to pick me up. Just to demonstrate how much better he is at this sort of thing than I, he decided to pick up some Man Tools at Home Depot on the way home. I stayed in the car grumbling about how I should have gone to college in Mexico. Ole!

So, now I'm back at school, hiding from the snow, and my poor frozen car is somewhere in a parking lot. Hang in there, Toyota.

I hate snow,

Seth

Welcome back, me.

Hello, loyal followers.
For the past month, I suspect you have been sitting at home, scratching your peach fuzz, wondering just where the hell I've been.

Because I'm a college student, my place of residence of subject to change on a fairly regular basis. When break rolls around every year, we all get kicked off campus and sent to wherever the hell we can find food and booze. College students love booze. I mean. I don't drink, officer.

Anyway, I've been living somewhat on the lam for the past few weeks. "On the lam from what?" you might ask. The answer is that I've been relocating about once a week in an attempt to avoid the crippling boredom that creeps up and sneak attacks whenever I don't have any papers to write or exams to study for.

I've been in Saranac Lake, which is beautiful but also located in upstate New York. Thus, it is tops of my list of Places To Aim My Destruction Lasers When I Take Over The World. While there, I tried snowboarding for the first time since I was an innocent (?) and energetic (?) child. EPIC FAIL, ladies and gentlemen. I've made it my personal mission to furthermore avoid winter sports at all cost. I would, however, take first place in the "Hiding From The Snow Under Thirteen Blankets" competition.

I didn't stop travelling after Saranac. I watched a drunk firespinner hone his craft in Rhode Island, experienced the striking pretentiousity (I made that word up. If you use it, you owe me a quarter.) of the upper-middle class white protestant area of Connecticut, and watched my first ever James Bond flick. I considered leaving the piercing industry to become an English spy who sleeps with ungodly amounts of attractive women, but I just love you guys too damn much to go anywhere.

So I'm back, at least until the next time Connecticut College decided to make its students homeless and bored.

If you're in the area, come by Tiki and see me. I'm back in the swing of things, baby.

...Okay, that was just creepy.



If you come to San Francisco,

Seth

I heard you on the radio!

I just wanted to remind you guys that the crew from Tiki Tattoos is going to be on Jammin 107.7 tomorrow at 8 A.M.!

Why?

Because we're rock stars.





Catch ya on the air,
Seth

Skin is gone.

Yesterday, Niki and I decided to experiment with microdermals again. We've done a few of them using different techniques, jewelry, and placements. We figured it'd be a good day for the latest edition of The Microdermal Chronicles.

While we were setting up, we decided it'd be better to do a scarification project. My original idea was a small CBR-shaped skin removal. Over the next hour, we added wings, shading, and sized it so that it would cover about half of my lower leg. I ate a sandwich, set up the video camera, and we got a-cuttin'.

The actual experience was a really positive one. My best friend showed up, we had customers who happened by and stayed to watch, and the rest of the Tiki Tattoos family were all hanging out as well.

I really like more extreme modification procedures because of the physical sensation involved. Experiences like that make me aware of my body in ways that I'm normally not. There were times when I needed a short break, but throughout the entire process I felt as though I was in a sort of meditative state. I'd definitely do it again.

Niki never fails to impress, as always. Every scarification piece she does is a hundred times better than the last one, and I can't wait to see what the next one looks like. I'm proud to wear her work!

So, enough talking. Check this shit outttt.

The design - before we started.

This shit hurt, yo.

The finished product.

I lived! Hell yeah!

Bleedy,
Seth

New new news!

We've certainly been busy over here at Tiki Tattoos. The month long $20 piercing sale is unfortunately over, but be sure to look for a bunch of new promotional material, advertisements, and deals on piercing and tattoo work.

Starting October 15th and lasting until the 19th, we're having Military Appreciation Week! All military personnel with an active duty ID will get 20% off all tattoo work over $100. This goes for Coast Guard cadets, too!

On a more personal note, I've been piercing my friends and taking photos to document my progress. The experience of piercing friends is totally different from piercing a customer. When a client comes in, I'm always concerned with making them feel as comfortable and relaxed as possible. A lot of the time, this means not having the sort of conversations with Niki during the procedure that I'd like to - conversations about technique, potential problems, etc.

When I pierce my friends, I know they're there to help me learn. I feel more able to discuss the procedure, their anatomy, and potential risks involved in what I'm doing. So far, I've pierced navels, tongues, nipples, and ears.

Take a look!

Lernin.

I'm learning a lot today. It might not be detailed information on proper piercing procedure, but I'm finding consolation in the notion that at the end of the day, I'll file this particular lesson under the category of "How To Interact With Idiot Customers."

Idiot customers are frequently a problem at our shop. We see a lot of people who are interested in lookin' supafly, who absolutely need to tell us about the infection that "just popped up" after piercing their navels with a sewing needle in their mother's bathroom, or who painted their jeans onto their bulbous, gargantuan thighs this morning.


Today, a customer was trying to tell me about jewelry she used to wear in her nostril. I can't recall exactly what she said, but it was something like this.

Me: Why did you take your nostril ring out before?
Her: Yo, that shit was diesel and all rinky dinky and shit. Word.
Me: ...Oh. That isn't a good reason.

I'm a pretty good conversationalist. I've lived in a variety of places, and I think I have at least a decent handle on the slang my generation uses. But for the life of me, I had no goddamn idea what this girl was saying.

I asked her to explain what she meant, and thus Seth and Niki's List of Slang was born. We asked almost every customer that came in today (EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM WANTED A GODDAMN LIP RING) what slang terms they could teach us, in exchange for our services. The list is pretty long.

Like all other goings-on at the shop, Niki knows more of this shit than I do. I'm entirely in the dark, but she's managed to unchain herself from her generational bonds and crawl towards the light that is, in this questionable metaphor, understanding what the hell these gangsta customers be sayin'. Word.

So, without further delay:

Seth and Niki's List of Slang
1. Diesel - (adj.) Excessively large.
Ex: Seth, your muscles are so diesel! I just want to rub my hands all over them!

2. Rinky dinky - (adj.) Cheap, poorly made.
Ex: My coordination is kind of rinky dinky, so I accidentally tattooed "Suck Face" onto your lower back instead of the tribal tramp stamp you originally wanted. Sorry.

3. Plook - (v.) To engage in what I imagine is terribly awkward and mediocre sex.
Ex: I finally worked up the courage to tell the hot redhead next door that I want to plook her aaaaall night. She punched me in the face.

4. Take down - (v.) To engage in what I imagine is only somewhat less awkward but a hell of a lot more violent sex.
Ex: I took back my words and told Hot Redhead Next Door that instead, I'd like to take her down. We proceeded to do so and now she's pregnant. God knows how the fuck
that happened.

5. Mad shook - (adj.) - Very scared. I forgot this one for a while and kept thinking it was "mad skrunk." I kind of like that better.
Ex: He was clearly mad shook because I am so tall and fearsome. As a result, he wrote my term paper for me.




That's all we got fo' now, dawg. Tune in lataz when my IQ drops a couple points and I start talking like that 4 realsies.




Word to your mother,
Seth