First I went into the bathroom, took a photo of my fist, and questioned my hair.
Me: Hair, are you looking the way I want you to look? Should I rethink you?
Hair: I’m just hair.
I then signed a yellow sheet of paper to let everyone know that I don’t have AIDS and that I’m not drunk and that I won’t become froggy and unreasonable.
After that, I sat in a chair and let this guy do this thing. (It’s Zach Galifianakis!)
(It hurt.)
Ten minutes later? I walked out with gauze and trash bags taped to my arm.
Spontaneous Poetry:
Gauze and trash bags on my arm.
I promise I will do no harm.
My big black puffy coat is warm.
Someone ring the cheese alarm.
And now I have my mountains.
Initially, I wished that they were facing me instead of facing the world. (The artist told me that tattoos that face inward is a total Pinterest thing.)
Ah, but then I spent some time looking at the upside down mountains, and they slowly transformed into a very wise owl.
Thus it is, and so it goes. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>
Are you re-visiting your high school days? Is that a Windsor owl?
Love it.
I LOVE THE O[WL]BAMA!
Assuming that’s your drawing, correct?
Very nice. It suits you.
And the owl is a hoot.
Awesome!
I love your tattoo! And I just moved to Colorado from Northern California, so will be embracing the mountains myself. ;-)
I like your owl. Mountains are not my thing, but I “get it” because the sea does to me what the mountains do to you.
Tattoos, I don’t “get” those (in more ways than one) but that’s because I’m old enough to be your mother. At least that’s my excuse. I will, however, vouch for the artist who told you to make your tattoo face the rest of the world. He’s correct. Art is for the masses.