So, I got that tattoo.
So, I got that tattoo. Complications. Blood everywhere. An ambulance was called. That was the last thing I remember before blacking out.
Naaaah, Just kidding.
While I can safely say that getting a tattoo sober is not the most relaxing feeling in the world, I didn’t have the feeling of suddenly passing out as I had the week before in the tattoo parlor. I was, however, somehow coerced into having the tattoo almost twice the size of my original design (you can thank the company I was with) and having a needle entering your skin in sensitive parts of the body like the shoulder and the inside of your arm is NOT how I wanted to spent a Friday night. Am I sounding like a wimp? Damn skippy I am!
A piece of advice if you’re getting tattoo’s with friends: if the guy is tattooing your female friend in the small of her back and she’s grimacing in pain, do NOT try to make her laugh by suggesting that she get a giant heart tattoo with the words “YOUR MOM” on it. This will cause the tattoo artist to laugh, causing the tattoo parlor manager to suddenly think of you as a liability and give you the evil eye for the rest of the night. D’oh! (Other things not to say: “At least you’re not getting a giant Hello Kitty on your back. Wouldn’t that suck if you asked for a Cheetah and you got Cheetos instead?”)
Oh yeah. And pictures coming soon. Before the end of the weekend. Maybe.
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