Yeah, you can't pick your ink for anyone else -- for good reasons or bad. If its your own choice and reasons it'll still be lovely to you regardless of how society marches on.

just as getting a dolphin tattoo on your ankle, or a butterfly on your breast became a cliche.

laffs and laffs cause she effed that one up and got the dolphin on the boob and the butterfly onthe ankle.

Ah ... the 90's ...

in the same way I think the neck tat is a problem.

Whoa buddy my dad is gonna CUT you!!!

Because he's a badass with a neck tattoo, so he can do whatever he wants. Like a ninja.

(No, actually, I remain in a state of bogglement about the placement of his tattoo, but the man is 68 years old, survived 5 heart attacks and a quadruple bypass, and his younger brother recently died. I figure he's earned the right to get a tattoo wherever he wants.)

(And it's given my brother and I something to laugh about forEVER.)

(Also, if it had been my *mom* getting a tattoo, it would have been a goddamn garden gnome, so I think my dad's tat wins. Barely.)

Trifecta:

I'm still sad I couldn't talk my dad into getting a tattoo of a banana.

Now I am going to WASH ALL THE DISHES.

Now I am going to WASH ALL THE DISHES.

It's gonna be a Lutheran Massacreee!

Also, if it had been my *mom* getting a tattoo, it would have been a goddamn garden gnome, so I think my dad's tat wins.

Perhaps it would protect her when the garden gnomes begin their war on humanity.

People already said most of what I would have said about the wife-beater and tramp-stamp terms, so no point in me repeating all that.

I bought an end table from craigslist, then I decided it would work better as a night stand, so I carried it upstairs to put it next to my bed. Now that I see it there, I think it would work better as an end table downstairs, just not in the place that I originally put it. I already nearly killed myself twice trying to carry this table -- first when I was trying to get it in my car, then when I was carrying it up the stairs and one of the legs caught on the rug. Maybe I'll just leave it upstairs until someone who'll help me with it comes to visit. (Of course, knowing how social I tend to be, that could be years.)

Because the ass antlers became so popular in the wake of the "fashion" trend of wearing a high-rise thong undies showing out from under one's low-rise jeans and short t-shirt, in many instances I saw the tat and thought it was more or less advertising the fact that the female person in question chose not to wear even thong undies. To be honest, I don't want to see anyone's underwear. And even more importantly I do not want to know whether or not someone has chosen not to go commando.

A local competetive girls' diving and swim team all had matching tats, an intricate compass sunface, mid-back. Their uniform suits were all the same cut, in different colors and prints, but each had a circular cutout to show off the tat. I often wondered which came first, the suit or the tat design and placement. I also wondered how some of the 15-16 year olds managed permission, but I never had the opportunity to ask.

And I *keep* forgetting to wish Nora happy on her birthday. I hope there's cake, Nora, something that goes well with delicious beer!