ink bug

After more than a year of dreading getting my tattoo finished, I bit the bullet yesterday and got it done.  Last time, the man I saw was a butcher.  I have several tattoos and always made fun of those who said they hurt.  They do hurt, but not that bad, anyone who has any backbone at all can handle it.  Normally.  Last the tattoo I began last year was the most pain I have ever been in.  It took weeks and weeks to heal.  My skin looked like ground meat in parts of the tattoo.  Thankfully, it healed well.  Most of the time, I don’t use names in this blog, but I will for the sake of advertising.  Yesterday, I went to Peter Tat 2 based on the recommendation of a friend.  I went to a young girl named Rachael.  She’s only been doing it a couple years.  She was absolutely adorable.  So pretty, so sweet, and it hurt less than any tattoo I have ever received.  I looked at her book of tattoos, and she is phenomenal.  When I finish my sleeve in a year or two, I will go back to her to get it done.  So, if you’re looking for a good tattoo artist, look no further.

I needed to mow the lawn this morning.  We are having a friend’s 40^th birthday party here Saturday.  I woke up and put on the smelly and thick A&D ointment on my new tattoo, put on a sleeveless shirt, took Chad to work, and then came back and mowed the lawn.  Ever since I have moved into his house, I have had a wonderful little family of ants that I have not been able to eradicate from the back yard.  I have poisoned them, stomped on them, flooded them, you name it.  Today, they were out by the thousands (literally) on my sidewalk in the backyard.  I put the lawnmower over their home and let the whirling blades do their work.  I don’t think it killed any of them, they just got a fun rollercoaster ride for free.  I continued to mow the lawn and momentarily noticed my new tattoo was stinging more than it was previous.  I ignored it for awhile.  I might be a fag, but I ain’t a wimp.  Finally, after more stinging, I looked down.  At first I didn’t see anything, then I notices several little black lumps.  My fucking ant pets had managed to land on my arm and were hopeless stuck in the A&D ointment.  Instead of politely asking to get off the ride, there were letting their frustrations out in another way.  Now for all of you who fancy yourself more of an animal right’s advocate than I am and feel like I got my comeuppance, well. . . just watch your back.