Back and Forth We Go

A hectic few days at the tattoo shop.  The shop advertises both appointments and walk-ins welcome, and it is important for the shop to be able to offer walk-in tattoos instead of being booked up in advance (hence our advertisement).  My husband is at the point where he is often booked up a week in advance.  He’s prepared and gives himself ample time for each appointment, so in between, if possible, he’ll fit in walk-ins.  However, for the people who are wanting to book with him, some people are asking to be fit in within the next few days and are getting frustrated that they can’t.  It’s sort of funny when I’ve offered alternative tattooers for them to get tattooed by if they’re in such a hurry and a few have defensively told me how Greg is their tattooer and they only want him, as if I’m trying to talk them out of it, but really Greg is my husband so naturally I’d prefer he retained his own clientele!

I’ve dealt with my share of crackheads this week.  Even the crackheads are frustrated amongst themselves, hence why one lady came in freaking out about how she needed to get a piercing or tattoo or both done right away but some fucking crackhead stole all of her money last night, no offense to crackheads (that’s what she said).  Another crackhead, one away from the shop thankfully, will get her shit together when her millionaire boyfriend takes a break from writing hit songs about her and gives her some money.

Meanwhile I’m thinking chickens are sooooooo much cooler than some people.

Someone (not a crackhead nor a customer) mailed some mealworms to the shop, likely as a diss, but instead I was happy to take them for my chickens.

Had somewhat of a shop get together at my lovely house to prepare for the upcoming tattoo convention.  First and foremost, I demanded that the tattooers walk over to the barn to look at my cocks and hens since I talk about them so much at the shop.  Then we collected bones from the fields and went to play pool/drink beer/talk shop.

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The tattooers took the convention preparation very seriously

According to my pay cheque, I worked two days instead of my usual four.  I skipped out on getting paid on Wednesday so that I could call in extra help and have her paid, and also have a no-pressure day getting shit done.

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Like my hair.  I got my hair done at the shop on Wednesday.

Then Saturday hit.  I took the day off as Tattoo Shop Manager but could not become Chicken Farmer Alixandra yet as we had a wedding to go to.  It was very lovely and I heard woodpeckers and saw geese and I’m pretty sure I even saw a king fisher!  Some blue bird kept diving into the water to collect fish.

Mind you, one time I was incredibly excited because I thought I had seen an armadillo at the side of the road (which was sad because it would have been dead but amazing because it means we get armafuckingdillos in Ontario!!!!!).  I drove by later and it was actually a tire.  I guess that’s not too bad though, one time my husband mistook a groundhog for a beaver.

And one time this guy mistook a GIRAFFE for a ZEBRA — and he pronounced it “zeb-rah” not “zee-bra.”

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The wedding was great.

So this morning is when I could continue with my true calling, chicken farming.  But this morning turned into eleven o’clock in the fucking morning because I was really tired despite going to bed early the night before (we left the wedding before 9pm so I could close up my flock).

I was only able to visit my flock three times today as the landlords were there and I didn’t want to be over there singing to my chickens or hosting another chicken picnic or anything.  Instead I brought my adorable 2-year-old niece over and she did not have a good time.  It turns out she is terrified of chickens and did not enjoy 18 or so chickens flocking to her when we arrived.  I tried to place her away from the chickens so I could quickly refill their food and water but alas, 2-year-old logic meant she had to cling to me, even though the chickens were interested in me and not her, so it was not a good time for either of us.  Chickens didn’t notice though, except for Houdini (top cock with the huge spurs) who seemed fascinated by my niece’s bright pink outfit.  As soon as she cried he backed off, though, as Houdini is generally respectful to humans… and by generally I mean he has never done any aggressive actions towards me but I also haven’t pushed him the way children might.

As for chicken-farming, here are some quick updates:

  • Spoke with a lady about acquiring some Muscovy ducks.  As it stands I am supposed to visit and hopefully select my (4) ducks tomorrow morning!!
  • Spoke briefly with the farmer whom I bought my hens off of about getting some Cochin chicks!
  • Spoke with this lovely chicken farmer today about getting some female cream leghorn chicks.  We ended up talking about a bunch of different breeds; she might be able to get me some Jersey Giants as well, plus she recommended that I get some Marans (and she MIGHT have Maran hens to sell me in a few months; she just ordered a bunch of them but she doesn’t know the sexes yet) and also that I get some silkies!  I told her all of my hesitations about owning silkies but she assured me they would fit in well, that they are feisty and can handle themselves alright, and also that silkies will brood over a few eggs so that means I won’t end up with my fucking 18 eggs in one nest doing absolutely nothing but rotting away.  Anyways she’ll call me in a week to let me know if she has enough female chicks for me to get some.
  • Went shopping for brooder (broodery, chick brooder, what is it actually called?) equipment; if my incubated eggs go well I’ll need that in a week’s time.  Also looked for some smaller incubators so that I can keep multiple eggs at once.  No luck with the latter, the brooder is coming along, and I also got a CHICKEN TOY (it’s like a treat ball that my cats have) and a chick feeder.  And stocked up some more on food.
  • I want to go to the grocery store tomorrow to get more corn, bread, papaya, and grapes.
  • I continue to have egg problems, and here is why…
Feisty says, “You were hoping to check on the mountain of eggs in Zebby’s crate?  Well, I decided I want to sit here.  Zebby, actually, is in the nesting area because I stole her milk-crate.  And you can’t look at the eggs.”
Thanks, Feisty, and all you other non-broody but super egg-lahey hens.

The eggs are gone now, though, whether because Feisty had a fit on them or, more likely, the landlords realized the situation that I had gotten myself into and smashed them all.  There is some yoke in the milk-crate but no eggshells, which makes me think they took away the eggs and accidentally smashed a few in the process.

Anyways, Happy Mother’s Day to all of the mothers, and a big FUCK YOU to all of the women who selfishly messed up their children’s lives and chose things like drugs over their children.


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