Public Service Announcement: Bad Tattoos Are on the Rise

Disclaimer:  I am sarcastic (Du-uh! Thus the blog address), and I tend to exaggerate for effect.  I'm a people-watcher; I observe, report, and add my own commentary.  Nothing I write should be used as a factual reference due to my tendency to over-exaggerate.  While I hate to admit it (and probably won't again), I do NOT know everything.  The opinions stated here are mine, and mean absolutely NOTHING to anyone else in the world but a few close friends.  If my statements offend you, I'm sorry for that but this is my blog.  I call it like I see it!  Real Talk.

I may need to seek professional counsel for my latest obsession.  It consumes me when out in public.  I find myself going to great lengths just to catch a glimpse.  I'm speechless and dumbfounded by what I see, yet I want to see more.  It's like a bad car accident.  I shudder at the gruesomeness, but I want to get all up in the Kool-Aid.

People, people, people...  Please, please, please...  Let's be a bit more discriminating about the "art" we have permanently placed on our bodies!  K? 

Seriously, folks.  Not everything in life is worthy of a tattoo.  I know you love your boyfriend, but do you really need his name, birth date, and social security number stamped across your entire back?  Yes, I know you love turtles; I do too!  However, must you wear that love on your upper thigh?

Mr. #24 should be very, very, VERY afraid!

What the hell was she thinking?

Some of the most hideous tattoos I've observed were on women.  I do not understand why a beautiful woman would want to deface her beautiful body with the likes of Tweety Bird and Captain Jack Sparrow.  Don't get me wrong; I think Johnny Depp is pretty hot myself.  But after a few years of sun and weight changes, Captain Jack starts to look more like the Crypt Keeper.

Eff'n Bob Barker?  Really??

Speaking of the Crypt Keeper, he's really not a good muse.  Just say "NO" to Freddy Krueger, the Tasmanian Devil, Satan, and the Grim Reaper.  Oh, and the Insane Clown Posse.  They're just plain creepy!  One day you will have children (yes you will) who will be completely traumatized.

Do you really want this to be the last thing your son sees before going to bed???

You will also probably have a real job one day so keep your tatts on the DL.  The initials of your BFF on the back of your neck may work against you in the interview process.  You can't really sport that tarantula crawling up your leg wearing a dress.  The Man kinda frowns on skankiness, or anything that may be misconstrued for skankiness, in the work place.

I have a tattoo.  A ridiculous tattoo.  One that would definitely cause me to tank an interview.  Luckily, God was on my side that day because I got it on my hip vs. the ankle where I'd really wanted it.  Some fifteen or so years later, my Mickey looks like an old, dead rat.  I'd love to have it removed, but it serves a purpose.  It is a constant reminder of the dumb things I'm capable of doing when severely under the influence.  No AA meetings necessary!

Lord, I hope this ain't your grandma...

*These are not people in my real life. All photos are compliments of Google Images.

Talladega Nights...and Days - Part 1

I was saving this for Trav-O at I Like to Fish, but apparently the Memoir Monday has become just another memoir.  Remember back in the day when we'd write down a story about ourselves, steal Trav-O's button, drink a beer, and call it all a win??? 

Anystabmeintheheartandmakemefeellikealoser, I'm sharing my damn memoir today.  No button, though; it's Thursday, not Monday.  It's been on ice long enough, boys and girls!

Talladega, Alabama.  April, 1994.  One of the infamous Three White Bitches (what we were known as by some of our college party boys), Hazel, moved there with her boyfriend shortly after graduation.  Because she was quite home sick and living in the armpit of hell, Hazel begged me to come for a visit.  While I wasn't all that interested in going to Alabama, and had no earthly idea where to find Talladega on the map, the offer of "free beer" sparked my interest.  See, Hazel's boyfriend ran a bar, and Hazel was his bartender.  Cha-ching!!

After work that day, my roommate, Erica, and I packed our bags and hit the road.  Now this was back in the pre-Google days, so not knowing in which direction to steer your vehicle was a pretty big deal.  We were living in Memphis at the time so we knew that we needed to head south.  That was about all we had.  Since I was the responsible one of the group (hehehe, it still makes me laugh just thinking about it), I stopped at a gas station (yes, those still existed too) and bought a map.  I drove while Erica navigated and manned the cooler.  Stocked with cold ones for our road trip.  I still can't believe I never got a DUI.  Another indication that me and the Big G are tight.

After only a few detours and 7 hours of a 4-hour trip, we finally reached Talladega.  I'm pretty sure it was pre-cell phone days, too, so we stopped at a little Mexican restaurant to call Hazel.  And to drink a few margaritas.  From this point until we reached the tattoo shop, things are a little fuzzy.  I guess all that partying did actually kill a few brain cells.  I do recall, however, that some sort of bet transpired between Erica and me.  She won, and we headed off in search of a new tattoo.

Erica had been wanting a tattoo for quite some time, but never could muster up the nerve to go through with it.  She needed a partner in crime.  I, on the otherhand, wasn't has keen on the idea.  Not that I didn't like them, but I was a chicken shit!  When I discovered that an actual needle was involved, I wanted no part of it.  With a little liquid courage, though, all things are possible.

When we arrived at the tattoo place, neither of us had a design in mind.  Let me rephrase that, Erica did not have a picture of her actual design while I had no idea.  I looked through book after book, but just didn't see anything.  Meanwhile, Erica was on the table having some cute little flower put on her hip. 

It was finally my turn.  I just picked one!  As if being a drunk girl getting a tattoo on her hip isn't silly enough, the tattoo chosen was ridiculous.  Thank God it's on my hip!  Every time I look at it, I am reminded of the dangers of drinking and tattooing.  Why didn't anyone stop me??  Oh, because they were drunk and thought it was a good idea too!!!

When I got on the table, I handed Mr. Tattoo Guy (why are they always big biker-looking dudes?) my design.  It was a Mickey Mouse.  Red pants.  Yellow shoes.  Stop laughing.

Not me.  Apparently, I'm not the only person in America who got drunk and tatted up.

No wonder they don't let drunk folks get tattoos anymore.  It has absolutely NOTHING to do with alcohol causing the blood to thin.  It is to prevent lawsuits!  Can you imagine a drunk guy getting Mickey put on his back???  He'd get the shit beat out of him!

The moral to the story?  Don't drink and drive.  To Talladega.  For a tattoo.  No wonder my son is obsessed with everything Mickey.  I've got to stop letting him see me nekked.

Stay tuned next week for my Nascar observations.  Remember...I was there for an entire weekend!

Vacation Observations

We're on vacation on the Gulf of Mexico.  Unfortunately, my kids haven't allowed me much time for blogging.  It's been up at dawn and down at dusk with a bunch of screaming, fighting, and crying in between.  Yesterday, my daughter literally held onto my leg crying while I check my email!  Dammit, you are seriously affecting my blogosphere!

Because I don't want a repeat of yesterday, I will have to make it quick.  I just wanted to jot down a few thoughts regarding some of the things I observed while stalking people-watching at the beach.

• Teenage girls are much fatter than I remember.
• Moms of teenage girls are much thinner.
• Just because they make bikinis in XXXL, doesn't mean you should wear one.
• If the string of your string bikini is buried somewhere between your waist and the top of your thigh, wear a muu muu instead.
• Some folks are racist.
• Teeth are not luxury items and should never be optional.
• That pool must be full of pee because I haven't seen a single kid go to the potty.
• If you want to avoid an embarrassing injury, be sure to lift your butt when going down the water slide.
• People are more tolerant of those who are polite.
• One day, she will regret getting that tattoo of the Eiffel Tower down the side of her entire leg.
• Dragons and daggers (or Mickey Mouse, for that matter) are not good examples of tattoo art. 
• I wish the makers of body wax would include men in their target market.  Back hair is gross!
• Put on some sunscreen; you'll fry out here!
• Those pina coladas from the Tiki bar are pretty strong.
• Be kind and wait your turn.
• Restaurant food, regardless of the cost, does not taste better than home-cooking.
• Cellulite of every color is an eyesore.  Please cover up!
• Tweens or teens caught wrestling in the baby pool/play area should be shot on sight!
• Parties of 15 or more people are obnoxious.
• The muffin top should be banned.  (Not the one found on a tasty pastry; the one created by tight, low-rise pants and a massive midsection.)
• Ice cream should be calorie-free so I can eat it every day.
• Build-a-Bear is for the children of the rich and famous.
• MarmaDuke is very funny.
• Yellow Box flip flops are still just flip flops.
• I just don't get Guy Harvey.  I'm more of a Claude Monet girl.
• Sleeping 4 to a bed is never, ever comfortable!

And I still have four more days!  Now, if my kids will only allow me a few moments to report back...

Nice!!!  Saw her at the water park yesterday.