When we weren’t watching the fireworks me and kid sis and bro passed around a football, which we continuously pelted each other with injurously in the dark, and kid sis and I did some tango/flamenco in the lapping waves.  When we got back to the house bro and his gf watched tv, while kid sis and I did some graphic art with colored pencils and middle sis read Twilight.  I’ve been working on my graffiti art, so I did graffiti of middle sis’s name (I just got this great book called “Graffiti Women” which maybe I’ll write more about later), and kid sis drew this surprisingly good picture of an angel.  I mean I already knew that my sis is good at art, but this was surprising good for a ten-year-old.

Eventually we all went to bed, and I got up really early for me and rode around town on a bicycle for a while.  I gotta tell you, riding a bike in the sun in that beach town, listening to music and smiling at passerbys, anticipating coffee, good cheer, and a day at the beach, is like being in an early Beatles song.  Like “She Loves You” or “I Wanna Hold Your Hand”.  So afterward I got some DK Donuts coffee and joined the fam for a day at the beach.  Eventually oldest lil sis joined us.  She had to work on Saturday so she drove down the shore on Sunday morning.  I think she looks like Luigi in her work uniform because they have her wear a dark green shirt and matching green cap.  Anyway, the whole day on the beach was fun/sunny/we all got tanned/burnt, and it was kind of like a sitcom because my brother got tattoos on his back and shoulders, and this was his day to break the news to my parents.  I like tattoos and I think a lot of them I’ve seen are pretty cool.  My sibs are in general agreement.  However, the rents HATE tattoos.  They have been talking about their hatred of tattoos ever since I can remember.  My brother was goofily wearing his shirt in 90 degree weather, and he would occassionally take it off but chicken out and put his arms above his head while reclining on his chair, so as to hide his tats from my mom.  Eventually they found out, and did not freak out.  I mean, geez, the dude is in his mid twenties now.  They thought the tats were a little peculiar but they said he can do what he wants to his body.

Speaking of doing what you want to your body,  I finally got an industrial piercing on the boardwalk that night.  This is my first piercing since I’ve been eight years old.  It was kind of spontaneous that I got it on that particular night, but I have been thinking about getting an industrial for at least four years now.  An industrial is a small metal barbell put through the ear in two places, usually along the top of the earlobe.  I think this particular piercing, though it looks hardcore, is actually pretty cute looking on girls.  I think it’s a nice contrast to my generally highly girly appearance.  Oldest lil sis convinced me to get it, with these endearing words “you’ve wanted an industrial for a long time.  Why don’t you stop being a pussy and get one already?” Spirit Bear, as I call her, has a way with words.  Spirit Bear, and Ster, as I call middle sis, went with me to the piercing place on the boardwalk.  They wanted piercings too, a lobe stud for Ster and a rook for Spirit Bear, but I wasn’t allowed to serve as their guardian, since they are both under 18 they needed to have a parent there.  So it was just me who did the piercing this time.  This really cute guy at the counter with melty brown eyes (but unfortunately large earlobes due to gages) showed us the different industrial earrings (and accidentally dropped one through the boardwalk when he went to measure it against my ear…oops)  and eventually we went into this doctor’s office type room in the back.  This heavily tattooed and pierced, highly confident awesome dude named Jay did my piercing.  He and Spirit Bear got along well.  Spirit Bear had an injured ear stud she wanted Jay to look at.

Spirit Bear touches stud.

“Don’t touch it!” whines Jay.

“It bothers me.” Spirit Bear.

Jay: “Well it bothers me too.  You know how many people touch their piercings and then touch that door handle?  You’ll get hepatitis.”

Later:

Spirit Bear: “Does it hurt to get gages done? (Jay has gages)”.

Jay: “Um, yeah I guess.  How the f*ck should I know?  How the f*ck do you measure pain.”

Jay was a highly skilled piercer and the whole process was quick, sterile, and not that painful, considering that I got two large holes punched through my cartilage in succession.  The industrial is supposed to be one of the most painful ear piercings, but it really wasn’t that bad.  I now have  a pretty yet treacherously-susceptible-to-infection stainless steel bar in my ear, which i have to clean three times daily.

Later that night, Spirit Bear, Ster and I ate at this great Mexican restauarant on the boardwalk that Spirit Bear recommended.  We sat on a second floor balcony overlooking the boardwalk.  I saw the man of my dreams.  He was a magician doing a show for pedestrians on the boardwalk below us.  He had eyebrows like Jim Sturgess, a bright pink t-shirt, a pin-striped vest and a bowler hat.  He was highly charming and wowed the crowd.  I am usually not stricken by strange men but I wanted to marry this person.  Unfortunately, I did not have the guts to talk to him.  It also looked like he was wearing a ring.  Woe is me!

Later Spirit, Bear Ster, and I happened upon a fireworks show in our town and we watched the spectacular finale from my car.

All in all, a fantastic weekend.