So maybe I can’t accurately explain to a specific thesis why I have a chocolate dipped strawberry tattooed on my lower right side of my stomach. I can, however, argue that it’s hot. Plain and simple. It’s not often that people actually see it, short of beach wear and times of intimacy (snicker…), it’s usually hidden by my clothes. Needless to say, in the 8 years I’ve had my strawberry, I’ve never had an ounce of regret.
I also don’t regret the lotus flower on my left foot. It means a lot to me and represents my soul and self-progression in life as well as my reflection of the past. It has meaning and it’s pretty and feminine and subtle.
What’s my point? My point is this. Today on the F train as I rode to work, I was visually assaulted by a woman in front of me who had to be sprouting the most ridiculous tattoo I’ve ever seen in person. Etched in black script were the words:
Now…perhaps this has some deep meaning. Or maybe she had a cat named Liontiger and another cat named Betty Boop that she accidentally maimed and wanted to honor by shitting on her shoulder with permanent ink. Understandable (snicker). But I’m thinking there is a much more colorful story behind this.
What happened is that one night after a long binge on crack, PBR and apple twizzlers, the perpetrator (who shall hence forth be referred to as “Crazy Eyes”) decided to go to the village to enjoy the mind trip that was about to set in. She stood at the corner of West 3rd and 6th, slowly leaning over further and further until her forehead was almost touching the ground- this is a super power many crack heads enjoy. After about four hours, Crazy Eyes finally was able to realize that she was in public, stopped leaning over like a limp house plant, and wandered over to Whatever Tattoo. She sat down in a tattoo chair and stared wearily at the tattoo artist.
“Can I help you lady?” She asked through several lip piercings and glitter gloss. Crazy Eyes nodded and tried to tell the artist what she wanted engraved on her shoulder. She told her to draw a mural of birds flying over the glistening East River with a rainbow stretched out above the New York skyline. She wanted a halo of light to extend around the area that the World Trade Center once stood. She asked for explicit detail and wanted every color available in the shop to be used to paint such a haunting and heartwarming portrait of the city in which she was born and raised. Just after describing in great detail the intricate artistry she wanted permanently drawn to her skin, Crazy Eyes nodded off again. When she awoke her crack-haze had worn off and she was still sitting in the tattoo chair.
“Welcome back” the tattooist said to her, waving. “Can you pay and get the hell out already cause I’m tired of watching you drool?” Crazy Eyes asked for a mirror and gasped in horror when she realized that the beautiful mural of her beloved city was not tattooed on her shoulder at all, but instead just random and mysterious nonsense. She asked the tattooist why she had “Liontiger Betty Boop” on her shoulder and all the lady offered by way of explanation was that those were the only words that trickled out of poor Crazy Eye’s mouth before she nodded off in the chair.
To me…this is the only viable explanation to why one would have such hogwash on their body for the rest of eternity.
I’m also bored at work…so there you have it.