Twinkle, twinkle...

You'll have heard about the girl with the stars tattooed on her face. It's all over the interweb by now. Twitter was buzzing with it today, it's being posted about on forums, blogs, it's on the radio. So, it's safe to say, unless you've been living under a rock, you've heard about it, right?

In case you haven't though, in a nutshell, 18 year old Kimberley Vlaeminck from Belgium is pressing charges of assault and battery against tattoo artist Rouslan Tounamiantza. She claims to have asked him to tattoo 3 small stars by her left eye. Apparently though, she fell asleep while being tattooed, and when she woke up, he had done 56 stars down the side of her face instead. (The full story is here.)

Now, I generally dont have strong reactions to stories on the news, especially when they don't affect me, but this one makes my blood boil. As far as I'm concerned, this girl is nothing but a liar. And a bad one at that. Her claims are flimsy, and she hasn't thought them through at all.

This is obvious for a few reasons.

Firstly...I have tattoos. They hurt. If you have them yourself, you'll know. If you don't, I'm sure you know someone who does. Ask anyone, they will tell you the same thing. They're not overly painful, but they are too painful to sleep through. It'd be like trying to sleep while someone is sticking a pin into your face, repeatedly, in quick succession. Even if she was drunk, I highly doubt she'd have slept through it. I'm not even going to address the claim that she was drugged before the tattoo was done, it's just too laughable to even consider taking seriously.

Secondly...before a tattoo artist begins the actual tattoo, he or she will create a stencil of the design, and transfer it onto your skin. It's a required guideline. So, for Tounamiantza to have accurately drawn those stars, he would have had to make a transfer for them. Which Vlaeminck would have been able to see. In fact, she would have had to approve it before the actual tattoo was done. This again completely undermines her argument that she didn't know about them.

Thirdly...I don't know much about facial tattoos, nor do I particularly want to, but I do know that as a rule, tattoo artists are at least, extremely reluctant to do them. I know of many places and artists who refuse point blank to do them, for reasons such as this. It is possible that Tounamiantza had no such qualms, but still...I just don't believe he would have tattood freestyle over someone's face like that.

None of it makes sense. Why would someone tattoo all over someone's face like that without permission? The repercussions are almost immediate, you have almost no chance of getting away with it, and you're reputation would be in tatters. Which is why I honestly believe her claims are false.

I would imagine the tattoo didn't turn out as fantastic or original as she had pictured it. Or the reactions she got to it were far from what she had hoped. And so she decided to cry foul, and risk bringing someone else's career and reputation down at the same time.

Grow.The.Fuck.Up.

I have to say 'fair play' to the artist for agreeing to pay half of the laser surgery costs to get the stars removed. If it was me, I'd be leaving her to suffer with her mistake. She wouldn't get a penny.

Maybe the pain of the removal surgery, and the constant reminder when she looks in the mirror everyday will make her think twice before she makes such a childish, irresponsible, and downright hateful decision again. I hope she gets everything she deserves.

Hush, Little Baby....

I'm not a fan of summer. It means overly warm weather, which in turn leads to far too much pasty flesh on show, sweaty people in sleeveless tops and flip flops, flies, midgies and, worst of all...children. Lots and lots of children.

Work is like a creche at the moment. There must have been some sort of aphrodisiac slipped into the local water supply last year, because people have been popping brats out left, right, and, aptly enough, centre! You can't hear yourself think over the noise of screaming babies, impatient parents and squeaky pram wheels.

I'm not comfortable around the children type things. It's well known that I have an intolerence for them. You would think I'd be used to them considering my mother used to co-run a playschool for the majority of my childhood, but no, I'm not. I just don't know what to do with them.
I've tried talking to them. I tried having a discussion with a two year old about the current economic climate the other day, but all I got in response was a blank look and a line of drool (imagine the result I got with the eighteen month old and the election discussions..)

I can just about deal with the younger ones. A wave and a smile keeps their simple little minds happy. It's the older ones that I can't stand. The precocious (CHECK SPELLING) little brats who prance around, demanding attention while mummy and daddy smile indulgently at each other (and everyone else around them) marvelling in what a little prodigy they've created. Eh, yeah...you're gifted little darling probably spends half it's time snacking on whatever if pulls from it's snout...real winner there!

Ummm..unintentional rant over!

So anyway...I suggest a petition to ban all children under the age of eleven from all public places. (When they reach twelve, they should be tested to see if they can be accepted into society with minimal distress for everyone else...)

Who's with me??

How careless we are..

Speaks for itself.

Cry Me A River..

It's widely known that compassion is not one of my strong points. I don't fall for sob stories, I'm usually devoid of sympathy. I'm the sort of person who has to put actual effort into suppressing laughter when somebody falls. And I don't feel guilty if a sneaky snigger slips out. It's just who I am.

Working where I work, doing what I do, I hear many tales of woe. They vary from the meaningless, such as a bad back, to the serious, like someone dying..(I'm considering moonlighting as an agony aunt..)
Generally, I half-listen, nod repeatedly, and make the appropriate noises. On a good day, I might even go to the added effort of paying attention. But I'm never really there. My would-be ass is in the chair, but my mind is in a galaxy far, far away.

Truth be told, I just dont care.

Every so often though, there's one story, one person who breaks through the apathy, makes you sit back, and just leaves you despairing for the wreck that is today's society. (Just for the record, I do know what's going on, I've heard the stories, and yes, I realise that the abuse, and crimes committed are beyond words. I am in no way comparing this story to those offences.)

An elderly lady regulary comes into the shop. I know her from my primary school days, she brought us our corned beef sandwiches and milk at lunch times. A harmless old soul, she was almost part of the furniture, and well liked by all.
With all the faces she's seen, and all the pupils she's watched walk out of the school, she still remembered me when she saw me. Or claimed to, at least. (I'd like to think she does, even though as a pupil I sort of faded into the background)

Anyway...she was doing her shopping the other day. She came to me, and as I helped her pack her stuff up, she chatted to me. At first, I did the usual, non-committal smiles, a nod here and there. But then she said something that made me listen.

She'd been robbed.

The details are sketchy, I was trying to listen while very aware that I had a queue of increasingly impatient people. But, basically, a group of younger boys (she said boys, I'm going to assume it was a mixed group though) broke into her home, and helped themselves to €700 that she'd been saving. To go to Lourdes. She's 87. Though it actually saddens me to think it, this was very possibly her last opportunity to go.

Ashamedly, my first thought was 'Shoulda put it in the bank, shouldn't ya!'. But I felt sickened, and just awful for this woman. And it really made me wonder what kind of people are we creating? I cannot fathom how someone could even contemplate stealing anything, let alone something of that amount. If it's not yours, you don't take it.

Sometimes, most of the time, I think maybe I'm better off being the way I am. It saves a lot of heartache, right?

(Sorry for the long, rambly post, it was originally handwritten at 3am, and I don't believe in editing my thoughts!)

Once in a New Moon..

(see what I did there?) I know none of you care, but I do, and it's my blog so nyeh!

First official promo poster for New Moon!! Only 6 months to go!!

The greatest man I never knew...

I always wanted to be one of those girls who had the best daddy. The kind of daddy who took you out at weekends for special days out. Who was overprotective, because he cared. Who you could turn to when things got rough, and the kind who could make it all better with a hug. You know the type...I don't know if they exist in the real world, or if they're just something that someone dreamt up, but I wanted that.

We don't always get what we want though, do we?

So, what's prompting this blog? Well...I had dinner with him this evening. Not a big deal, you might think, apart from the fact that it was the first contact we've had since just before Christmas..

We met, we sat, we ate, and we chatted, but it was different somehow. I couldn't feel any father / daughter connection. It was like two distant friends meeting after a long time, catching up, each telling stories, neither really listening to the others. It wasn't unpleasant, but it's not something I couldn't live without. Perhaps the most shocking (and least shocking in a weird way) was the realisation that even after all of that time, I didn't really miss his presence all that much..

What does that say about me as a daughter??

Stand by me[me]...

Here are the rules:

1) Put the link of the person who tagged you on your blog: I am Steph
2) Write the rules.
3) Mention 6 things or habits of no real importance about you.
4) Tag 6 persons adding their links directly.
5) Alert the persons that you tagged them.

So, without further adieu...

-I get really, really irritated when people spell my name wrong. It's C-l-a-i-r-e..and yes, it does matter!

-I have an intolerence for text speak. Just don't do it.

-I love looking at people. Not in a weird, stalkery 'I'm contemplating killing you' type of way. I just like looking at people's faces.

-I'm extraordinarily messy. It's an illness..

-I have weird, bendy fingers. Like, I can bend the tips of my fingers (just before the bit with the nail) all at the same time, without touching them. It's gross. I freak people out with the way I bend my legs when I sit too apparently.

-I have a slight obsession with all things circus related, and even got asked to join once. Well..twice, but it was only the one occasion.

So, there we have it! I think everyone's already been tagged to do this by now, so I'm not gonna tag anyone, but if you wanna do it...well, off ye go!