Tricksy Comcast and Some News

Scott and I decided to get rid our cable last week. We generally hate Comcast and the TV sucks up a lot of time so we just cancelled it. Some might remember that we tried this a couple years ago- we went about a year without it, and it was mostly good. There are some downsides (like a major feeling of detachment from society, and never knowing what movies are out) but mostly it's pretty great.

Unfortunately, when the Comcast guy came to disconnect our service, he wiped out our internet. It's partly my own fault for letting the guy leave before making sure all was well, but mostly I blame the Comcast guy. My rage really boiled over when I called them- not 5 minutes after the guy left- and they said nobody could come fix it for four days. Doucheknockers. I swear my hatred for Comcast grew exponentially each day. The worst part is that they have a total monopoly on high speed internet in our area. I'm hoping weekly calls to Verizon, begging them to expand their service, will change this.

But for now, my bubbling anger has been reduced to a simmer as the internet has been restored. And those tricky bastards sent out the nicest, most competent men (yes, two men!) to fix the problem, nullifying my plan to shoot the messenger. Nonetheless, I still despise Comcast and plan on dropping them as soon as possible.

Now for the news: Scott is back to tattooing. He had enough of the office scene, and an opportunity presented itself, so that was it. The next few weeks will be hectic as we adjust, but all in all it will be much better.

Honestly, I was debating holding that little tidbit back, but it would probably have come out sooner or later. My hesitation was purely due to the fact that now nearly every conversation with every person I meet is going to be about tattoos. I mean, when someone asks what my husband does for a living, and I respond with "He works at (insert telecom company here)," that's it. Sometimes there's a follow up question, but rarely an entire discussion. But if I say, "He's a tattooist," it's inevitably followed by a discussion about tattoos. I won't lie- it gets old fast.

Perhaps it's the anti-socialist in me, but I just don't care. I don't care what you want, or what you have. I don't care to show you all of mine. None of mine have any meaning whatsoever- really. It really doesn't matter if you like mine, or if I like yours. If you ask me more about my tattoos than you'd ask about a haircut, I'm going to start looking for escape routes. I can't tell you how much "something like that" would cost, and I definitely can't tell you how much it will hurt you. Them's the breaks.

BUT if you want to talk tattoos, go talk to Scott. He's at Exposed Temptations in Manassas. He's really quite awesome, and can answer all your questions (except the pain one- seriously, how can anyone else know your pain tolerance?).