I saw a dude perform a circumcision on himself. Yup. It was....pretty much exactly how you'd think it would be. Punk beats bumping through the floor and most of us squeaming in the corner wondering if the window opened wide enough to get some fresh air and/or throw up out of. The plastic sheeting caught the blood, of course. Swiss army knife = infection, one would think. But the bottle of hydrogen peroxide took care of that, I guess. It took a couple of vicious swipes, but he got it off, and it's now hanging on the wall. And people don't understand art these days.
Between that and the dude who cried for attention by demanding indignantly five minutes after
the fact where the ambulance was - even though we all knew exactly what was going to happen (and he didn't need 911, he actually was pretty fine, mostly because he's a crazy motherfucker, but he did need to get a cab to a doctor, which he did, without anyone's help), but you know, attention whores need attention, while the rest of us roll our eyes - it all reminded me how glad I am I dumped all the totally crazy fuckers in my life.
Ah Thursdays. You know how it is. I got a day off from the off-site work, but only to get slammed pretty much all day and then catch three art shows at night. It's back to the client's tomorrow, but with more staff and less attitude to deal with, I'm hoping. Then the weekend! Which will involve at least one full day of work. Woo! Maybe I can find another live circumcision somewhere. OR MAYBE I CAN CUT OUT MY EYES.