Okay, I’m quite pissed off now, because Ecto Beta just ate a post. Alright, I suppose it didn’t just eat it. All I know is that it was here before, and now it’s not. So I have to start over again.

My sister called me on Wednesday afternoon to ask me about my math test that morning. Kinda. We talked about the math test, and how I feel that I completely bombed it, which is perfectly normal for me. We even discussed how the math problem that took me two hours to do was on the test. I mean, the same exact problem. It was a little weird. And still, it took me a minute or two to figure how to do it all over again.

Then, K drops the conversation down to a new low for misunderstanding. “I started my corset,” she tells me. Which I then made her repeat three times. The first because I didn’t hear what she said. The second two times because I didn’t understand it.

The first thought that popped into my head was that she wore the corset that I got her for Christmas. She hasn’t done so yet, and it is within the realm of possibility that she would find that an acceptable topic of conversation. But no, she meant something else entirely.

She’s talking about piercings.

Which isn’t so strange, actually. K has a lot of piercings. Multiples on her ears, her nipples, her neck, and her wrists (although, she had to take those out since they used to get caught on things).

A corset is a line of piercings, either up the side or the back, that remind one of the way a corset gets laced up. If the piercing is done with rings (instead of bars) it is possible to lace up the piercings when healed.

I didn’t know K wanted a corset done. If she told me previously, it completely went out of my head. I was kinda shocked a little when she told me. She’s super thrilled that the piercer will do all of the piercings for $100 (I don’t know how many total, probably eight), and she had had four done already. She also complained about the pain, and the only response I had was to call her a weirdo.

Really, it was the only response possible. She told me not to tell mom, so I couldn’t say anything about what she had done, since my mom was in the same room with me.

However, she didn’t tell me I couldn’t post about it. So don’t you go telling my mom. And, when she’s all done and laced up, I’ll be sure to take a photo to share. You know you’ll want to see it, and she’ll want a photo for MySpace. Loser.

—”Several Ways to Die Trying,” A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar: Dashboard Confessional

Tagged: comprehension, story on Friday, April 28, 2006 · 6 Comments »