The get together was a bit random - the eternally clashing work schedules of two other friends (and a lack of sufficient cash) do more to prevent our quests for modification than anything else. When the schedules magically coincided on a Thursday night, we jumped at the opportunity... to the Bat Mobile!
At A Glance Author rorykicker Contact rorykicker@bme.anon When A week ago Artist Tim Studio Hot Rod's Piercing Company Location Pittsburgh PA Friend 1 was planning on an inner lip tattoo, but hesitant, so while Friend 2 signed release forms for her eyebrow piercing, we popped over to Jester's Court (the tattoo place, conveniently right down East Carson Street - also highly recommended!). Friend 2, never having been pierced with anything but a mall gun at age 10 or so, was a bit nervous, so we stood by for support. We had been hoping for Paco to pierce us (he'd pierced a then-absent Friend 3's nipples before to great success), but he's not at the South Side location Thursdays.
Instead we got Tim, who their website (www.hotrodbodypiercing.com) stated was the founder of the place - not bad at all. Friend 2's eyebrow went quickly and happily, so my turn came up - into the chair. Their studio is very tiny, but quite clean and made to be visually appealing (or frightening!) by the artsy pictures of previous customers lining the walls. Having been waiting quite a while for these venoms, I was quite anxious, but in that happy bubbly time to get stabbed again sort of way.
We decided on a slight V shape to the piercing - typical avoid-the-veins issues. After a heavy duty Listerine rinse, the clamp goes on (my least favorite part). The left side came first; for some reason I never considered having them done separately until reading some accounts of that on BME, but in the end it doesn't seem to have made too much of a difference. 12g would be the size of the needles for today - all properly sterilized and packaged, ready to go. There were two different ball sizes available; I chose the smaller ones for the expected swelling/crowding issues. One last marking check, aaaaand...
The needle goes in! The pain was... unusual, and definitely present (I never understand those "I didn't feel a thing!" experiences - how?!) but not so unbearable as to make me back out. I think I started drooling like a fiend at that point - thank goodness for a bib and an understanding piercer. The right one of course came next, and brought with it twice the drool, twice the pain, and some involuntary tears. Tim's manner was very soothing - quick, professional. My friends are standing there in the doorway, aghast and cringing with sympathy pain, reassuring me of my bravery (and silently to themselves, probably my stupidity). But now that the godforsaken clamp is off, I'm giddy - and a little bloody. Some cold water helps to calm the initial shock. Alas! A mirror reveals that the placement of the right bar is ever so slightly behind the left one. This is more likely due to my wiggling and a goofy attempt at playing Charades to my friends while the clamp was on.
Tim, who claims he is anal about that sort of thing, is far more concerned than euphoric little me about the uneven hole. He makes sure that I'll come back to get it repositioned (for free!) so that they are flush, assuming that it's not just the swelling or whatnot that's causing the unevenness. I try to tip him (twenty, cuz I looooove people who stab me!) and he refuses! What a gentleman!! He wants to make sure the piercing is proper before I pay him extra. I think it's a bit important though, seeing as how he had to put up with our immature giggles over shafts and balls (on barbells of course!) and it was more my fault that anything went awry. He takes the money, however reluctantly.
Happy as hell and rather sore, we march out - the tan young girls in the lobby look like prime navel-piercing-only candidates, and while they didn't watch (lobby and piercing room are too small) they did watch the cringes and encouragements of my friends in the doorway. Slightly horrified by my tongue (which I promptly and proudly display) they hide some "oo icky" faces. Aftercare instructions in hand, steel in mouth, and all the other necessaries in mind, we depart at last.
The first night was blissfully painless thanks to an ibuprofen prescription and ice. Day One proper sucked quite worse - swelling and pain were annoying but not prohibitively bad, more cold water and Motrin to help. Multivitamins and salt water rinses seem to help immensely as well (though one should start taking the vitamins about a week in advance, to really get their effect). Carnation Instant Breakfast was just about the only thing I could manage to eat. By Day Two little gouge-groove things appeared where the balls sit on the tongue; these hurt more than anything else.
Work was also very interesting during this period - my incorrigibly garbled speech makes customers think I'm mentally challenged, which makes them much more polite than normal! Unexpected side effect. A pizza party became total hell to sit through; all I can think about it ripping these things out and scarfing down some Supreme Sicilian.
Day Three brought an unwelcome surprise. Wake up and I'm late for work, freaking out, quick check in the bathroom mirror - there's some sort of blood polyp surrounding the upper left ball. Total and utter panic: it looks like the tongue is trying to swallow the ball. After shoving the bloody matter away with a sterilized pin, it seems to be OK - still some coagulated crap at the base of the ball, but I don't want to touch anything important (especially not with a pin!). This occurs to me now as a rather dangerous thing to have done, but this was way earlier than HRPC Sunday hours - otherwise I would've called! Some time later, after a brief nap, I wake up to realize that now the right ball has the same thing - this bloody membrane THING covering the top ball. Seeing as how the left one seemed to recover fine, I repeat the process. Only the right one starts to bleed.
And doesn't stop. For about an hour and a half. I look like Edward Norton in Fight Club, spitting out about 10 oz. of blood, and boy am I scared. Then... it stops. YAY. By the next morning, all clots and polyps and strange formations are blissfully gone - I have no explanation for them, and have not found anything on BME to corroborate on the problem. Day Four brings near-clear speech and a return to squishy foods (mmm bananas) - by Day 5 I can take on some well-diced steak and corn niblets, and those who don't know already can't tell by my talking. Mornings are slightly painful, but water and aspirin solve that most expediently.
Tomorrow we head back to Hot Rod's for a check-up! Venoms are GODLIKE!