Inked Up

So, I got a tattoo.

Oh sure, I’ve thought about getting them in the past just like almost everyone else. I wanted to impress people with my coolness by having a geeky-yet-dangerous Pac-Man with devil horns etched into my right arm. Or a cool Atari symbol, or a space invader alien, maybe.

Man, the girls would have been all over me.

But this weekend, while I was in San Diego, I finally did it. I got a tattoo. And while it may not be as cool as having a 1/8th scale Master Chief on my back, or anything, I still think it’s cool to show it off to everyone. There was a bit of pain, and a drop or two of blood, but nothing a real man like me couldn’t handle by tearing up and nearly retching all over the floor.

But if you’re thinking of getting a tattoo yourself, I do have a bit of advice for you.

When you’re alone, in the dark and using a felt-tip, metal-sheathed sharpie pen, always make sure that the pen cap is securely connected to the pen before you try to jam it closed with the palm of your hand or you might, you just might, wind up stabbing yourself in the palm of your hand with the business end of a permanent black magic marker causing, not only excruciating pain as it punctures your skin and goes almost a quarter of an inch into your hand, but also leaving you with a semi-permanent tattoo to help remind you of your stupidity.

So, who wants to see my “Big, Black Dot” tattoo?