2000-10-03 - 986031642

On the internal soundtrack: "I Want You (She's So Heavy)". Beatles, "Abbey Road".

My coworker's 17-year-old stepdaughter came home with her tongue pierced. Egads. Didn't ask for permission first and had to borrow a friend's ID since you have to be 18 for a tongue piercing. Well, well. The mom didn't make her take out the stud, either. Poindexter would have done that, he says.

I don't know what I would do. If it had been done with no ill effects, I'd probably want to leave it alone, since if I made them take it out and they re-did it after they were 18 it might not go so well. There's a lot of useful muscles and nerve endings in the tongue and I wouldn't want to risk hurting them.

It seems to be all the rage among the company kids these days. Another dad in the company has a son (just started college) who has gotten two lip piercings in the last two months.

I dunno. I like how exterior piercings look (eyebrows, ear cartilage, bellybutton, etc.), but once you get into the interior regions (lips, tongue, genitalia) I get the willies.

I often wonder what my generation's kids are going to do to shock us. You know they'll think of something, but what? My guess is polyamory, or some other weird form of body mutilation. Perhaps branding will become more widespread. Poindexter tells me it already is.

Right now, I'm only aware of branding in black fraternities or the odd weird white guy who did it for no real reason. Occasionally I'll see an Omega with a brand on his person (can't remember if it's his chest or his upper arm). This is beyond my comprehension. Why? It sounds like something slave owners did, so why perpetuate it? Perhaps the meaning of it has changed over the years. Supposedly branding is common practice among tribes in Africa, often as a manhood ritual, inspiring pride. But when I was in college, being a pledge in a black fraternity looked an awful lot like a re-creation of slavery. It made me feel sick to see it.

I don't like fraternity pledging rituals, in general. I understand the idea behind wanting to "belong" to a group, but the weird idol-worship that pledges have is very strange. From the very little I managed to drag out of my (white) college boyfriend, it seems like "Hell Week" is about making pledges so tired that they're practically hallucinatory and the whole thing feels like a religious experience.

I don't think you could ever convince me that being subservient to a bunch of assholes for the better part of a year and then going without sleep for a week and being yelled at a lot is a good way to make friends.

OK, the diary part:

We had a nice visit with the parents. Took them to Bilbo Baggins on Friday night and everyone liked it. Poindexter's Mom was thrilled because there was an accommodating chef (a real chef) who made her something without butter or cream in it.

Hm. Not much happened. My mother was tickled pink that Papa went skating with me. I guess because she hasn't seen him skate. There are a lot of 50-plus men in my club so it's old hat to me.

On Sunday, I woke up and my hearing aid was making awful beeping noises. Not the usual feedback I always get. I was in a panic, thinking it had broken (they're just under four years old). But no, Poindexter discovered that the soft plastic tube between my ear and the aid had cracked. What a relief. Made do with scotch tape.

The next day I tried to get the tube off (it gets hard and brittle over time) and made a mess of things. Nicked up the hard plastic piece where it attaches to the hearing aid. I felt so stupid. I was trying to pry it off with a very small screwdriver from Poindexter's set. One with a 2mm "blade". I managed to make a small slit in my finger with it. Way to go, girl.

I thought I was in trouble, but I took it to the Home Care hearing place across the street and he didn't say a word about the nicks. And he only charged me 10 dollars to replace the tubes.

Note to self: Razor blade. No tiny screwdrivers.

People are so funny about the feedback from my hearing aids. My mom's youngest sister used to say "Oh, I'm sorry I beeped you!" I explained that it wasn't her fault but it took a while for it to sink in. My dad always says "Your aids are chirping".

Speaking of chirping, one night I accidentally left one on all night. Poindexter, in his sleep, thought there was a cricket in the room.

Last night, we had dinner with Poindexter's father's (not Papa's) sister and her husband, who were in town for a convention. We ate at Filomena in Georgetown. Great food, great decor, too fucking noisy.

We had a really nice time. I had never met the uncle, only the aunt, once. They seem like very very nice people. The uncle seemed very kind. They keep inviting us down to their place in North Carolina. I want to go at some point, perhaps in combination with a dirt-bike-riding trip for Poindexter, if for no other reason than to see their oldest son's house, which is in the old part of Raleigh. Probably cool as shit.

I am all set to go see Isabelle on Friday for lunch. I can't wait. I told her to bring lots of pictures. We're going to the "Plough & Stars" and I get to do a lot of walking around center city. Just my kind of fun.

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