Paradise Lost

Every year, my wife and I go to South Africa, to visit her family. After the pharmaceuticals clear my system, (I need them to fly) I like to get started on my holiday drinking. I met Kerwin in a really shady shithole bar in Capetown, and we had an interesting conversation about tattoos, sex, and life. When he showed me his tattoos, I told him that nobody would ever mistake them for art, which he took as a compliment, in spite of it being such an obvious insult.

He became visibly agitated when I suggested that the "Paradise for Virgins" above his crotch might apply to his Superman symbol shaped navel as well...and tried to stick my thumb in it, to illustrate my point. Then I got a little gaggy from the thought. I had to buy him about 5 rounds to settle him down, to avoid a holiday stabbing. I never even mentioned the one on his belly that reads "she was a [sic] untrustable [sic] women[sic]" as it made me uncomfortable on several different levels.

We are home now, (and had a lovely vacation, thanks for asking)
and the handful of pills return flight jet-lag has pretty much worn off.





Extra deduction for the whole creepy torso.






What this tattoo says about the wearer:

I like it rape-y.





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Cause Band-Aid's Stuck on Me

Angie was my ex-girlfriend's best friend. They had a ritual--every Friday they would go out, drink rummy fu-fu drinks--spin the little umbrellas, and talk shit about men. Then they would come back to our place, eat, puke, and pass out. There were a few nights, that it looked like we might have a ménage à trois but that never panned out. I do still have the occasional ménage à un thinking about it, though.

When I first saw Angie's tattoo, she called it a "Tiger-Lily"--I called it a bunch of Band-Aids, (ouchless) with some high school mascot on them. That is when we stopped being civil. She started to tell people what an asshole I am, and I proved her right by humming the "I am Stuck on Band-Aid" jingle whenever she was around, which may be Manilow's most haunting work.






Extra deduction for not believing me that Barry wrote that shit.
Don't fucking ask...






What this tattoo says about the wearer:

They hold on tight no matter what to fingers, toes and knees.





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Smell Ya Later!

Ahh Nadine...
She brought out the worst in me for 6 mutually destructive months. Our relationship was fueled by rage, jealousy, vodka, and about 10 pounds of coke. We finally split up because she said I never listened to her or something.

I always laughed at how the tattoo guy decided to edge the "water" up and off...to give it that photograph feel. The night I told her it looked like the mermaid was checking her deodorant was the first night I slept on the couch. I remember yelling through the bedroom door "You are right...that mermaid could NEVER put deodorant on with that HOOF!!!" It was all downhill from there.






Extra deduction for thinking that because I put you in here, I am trying to get in your pants again. I am married.





What this tattoo says about the wearer:

Another few years of sunlamps, and my shoulders will be ready to be made into handbags.








(Nadine...call me on my cellphone)
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You Are My Sunshine

Jim used to hang around our band's practice room, AKA Russ' basement, and would try to do "sound checks" for us. One night, he even brought a strobe light, which made me dizzy, and nauseous. We were a crappy teenage metal band, that didn't have a singer, a regular bass player, or a name. We hardly needed a lightman/soundman. We needed practice....some talent would have helped, too. I had to explain to him after he re-tuned my drums once, that you don't touch a man's drums, wife, genitals, or Scotch, unless you have the express written consent of Major League Baseball.

Jim's tattoo sucked so hard that we all just kind of pretended it wasn't there. It became the horribly rendered, cross-eyed elephant on his upper arm...I don't know what/who that is supposed to be, or what that is on her forehead..she looks like she needs some sleep though. Those kooky eyes follow you around the room, too. It is pretty creepy.





Extra deduction for letting Ernie Bushmiller do your tattoo.







What this tattoo says about the wearer:

I live with my Grandma.













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We Salute You

One of the funny things about having lots of visible tattoos, is that suddenly, you are the sounding board for tattoo ideas. Strangers constantly tell me about tattoos they want to get... or thought about once... or they know a guy who has something cool tattooed...

Another funny thing, is that lots of these people, are the super-established square dude type. The former 'straight A' students LOVE to reminisce about that time in college when they smoked a bong before class, or that month that they didn't shave, or the copious amounts of beer they consumed in their "wild" days. It is like they want you to know that they have a little renegade in them.

Phil is my dentist. His tattoo is amazing. Really solid design, and the linework is very well done.
This is one of the best tattoos I have ever seen.


Extra deduction for perfection...if that is possible.



What this tattoo says about the wearer:

Nothing bad at all.








Don't forget to floss

Thighmaster

Jay lived in Fort Erie, Canada. Just across the bridge from Buffalo. When I was a kid, we used to go to Canada all the time, because the drinking age was 19, (you could buy alcohol, and get served in bars if you looked 16) and the strippers got butt-naked. Jay used to sell hash, and I knew a chemistry major at UB who made top-notch acid, and so our friendship was born. Looking back, it was my first international drug ring. It seemed so innocent at the time. Jay would come over to my house, trade me a block of hash for a sheet or 2, and we were all happy. I didn't FEEL like a terrorist.

His tattoo has always made me laugh. Those thighs...the left arm...those pointy boots. The rumor I heard was that Jay got caught crossing the International Train Bridge, with 4 sheets of LSD. The last time I saw him, he was 23 feet tall, and I could taste music.






Extra deduction for making me listen to Rush all the time.
Bonus for not ratting us out. Thanks, "eh".






What this tattoo says about the wearer:

I am a nice boy. This is the fiercest image I could conceive.





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Sorry...About Your Daughter

I met Mike in the smoking area of Midway Airport, in Chicago. He was pretty much a total goober...the kind of guy who walks around singing George Thorogood songs, always dreaming about finding a box of money. We talked for about 30 minutes, but I was all fucked up on Valium, and Whiskey (only way I can get on a plane) and forgot most of our conversation.

Mike was an OK guy, and I feel bad for him. He either has the world's ugliest kid, or one of the shittiest tattoos ever.



Extra deduction for making me feel bad...fucker.
And I think he copped my lighter.






What this tattoo says about the wearer:

I am not Courtney's biological father.





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Jesus' Pieces

This tattoo is on a guy named Jeremy, whom I met in a bowling alley in Buffalo, NY.
I hated him from the moment I saw him. He had this tiny little (unnecessary) ponytail, and was wearing a US flag shirt, with track-suit pants. My hatred went beyond his choices in haberdashery and hairdo, however, when he started to brag about his backpiece, after he saw my tattoos.

I asked him to show it to me, and he did, proudly.

I asked him "Is that supposed to be Jesus? Or Shaggy?"
He answered "Jesus."
"Well, why does he have a black eye?"
"That is shading" he replied.
"Why does he have one eyebrow that grows down his nose?"
"That is the side of his nose...not his eyebrow."

"Why does his neck have a fur ruffle?"
"Dude..." He was getting pissed, but I was drunk, and didn't give a flying fuck.

"OK, but why does he have shredded lettuce on his head?"




Extra deduction for punching me really hard.







What this tattoo says about the wearer:

I think that Jesus spoke English.










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Tommy Used to Work on the Dock

Oh...wow.
Let us start with the obvious problem with these tattoos.
Alignment.
His back looks like some mulletty Camaro, all covered in bumper stickers. Some are slanting up, some down. Some look like total afterthoughts, which he then had to squeeze in.

I had not seen that image of Randy Rhoads since that last time I saw a "Creem" magazine. Ozzy was carrying him on his shoulders in that picture ( that is why there was only one set of footprints when he looked behind him---what? oh, wrong story) which explains Randy's butt looking so unbuttlike.
One should always avoid trading beer for tattoos, which surely is what happened here.










Extra deduction for omitting Manowar.






What this tattoo says about the wearer:

I am from a really small town.











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Patriot Games

Ok...for this one, I have to show you the actual image...so you can truly appreciate this tattoo, which must have been applied on a roller-coaster.



That shit isn't even close. It is like he knew what it looked like, sort of,
and went ahead and tattooed it. But for some reason, he put the cleft on the cheek, rather
than on his chin.And gave him some bizarre cloak-poncho...with anemone like protrusions.

Tattooing from memory is never a good idea. If, as an "artist" that is the best football you could
have drawn, I suggest you learn a new trade, like pizza delivery.




Extra deduction for being a Patriots fan.









What this tattoo says about the wearer:

I am blind.








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The Incredible HULK

Hmm...a hyper-muscular, hyper-mustachioed Hulk Hogan backpiece...well, Hulk's upper half anyways...but he seems to have contracted polio, and his legs and waist have shriveled up.


This tattoo sucks. Hulk's waist is smaller than his biceps, and his torso is far too short.

You can tell from the hourglass figure of his back, that like Hulk, he is kind of a health nut.













Extra deduction for making me feel guilty, for picking on the fat, geeky guy.






What this tattoo says about the wearer:

I am a fat, geeky guy.









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Eric the Red

This tattoo was found on one of those "Ice-men" (you know... the Geico cavemen who were
frozen in ice, and they found them, and thawed them out, and they all had tattoos)
so, in it's defense, this tattoo is prehistoric...right?


Wrong.
It is on a modern homo sapien.
It is less than 20 years old.





Extra deduction for the rash.







What this tattoo says about the wearer:

I will take ANY pill I find.








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My Heart will Go On

It is Celine Dion, captured at the very moment that she had a massive stroke, but with
John Stamos' hair.
This tattoo sucks on many different levels.
The idea.
The execution.
Did I say the idea?

Portrait work can be tricky. Your artist has to know what he/she is doing, or else you run the risk of ending up with a no-neck, Teen-Wolf coiffed, version of the French Canadian "beauty".

I am not even going to mention her hand.
Yes I am.
Why is it so tan?




Extra deduction for everything. This tattoo represents all that is wrong in the world today.
This is a fucking tattoo blog. Celine Dion has no business here. I hope we never see her here again.





What the tattoo says about the wearer:

It screams "LOSER" loud and clear.









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Grin ,and BEAR it

Very sad.
That is some dark, uncoveruppable shit there.
Hour upon hour of getting brown tattooed over all that black. Looks like a giant birthmark.

And somehow, even in a field of all those darks, the eyes still look flat. This tattoo sucks.
I feel kinda sorry for this guy.
His backpiece sucks. Hard.






Extra deduction for letting someone tattoo your entire fucking back, who had so little artistic talent.







What this tattoo says about the wearer:

I have never actually seen a real bear.














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Behind the 8-BALL

No.

Even if it had been done by a skilled tattoo artist, it would still suck.


Extra deduction because you KNOW this guy is a loser. He probably owes you 20 bucks.







what this tattoo says about the wearer:

I am a nubby, little meth-head.



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