Sweepin' the Clouds Away

Dave had made it clear that he was getting his kid tattooed on his arm. I told him he should wait until Maury tells him he is the father, for sure, but that fell on deaf ears.


Hey Dave.
Hey. I got that tattoo. You wanna see it?


Oh, you know I do.
OK, but it ain't finished yet. It still needs color.


Well. Dave, I didn't know that your wife was a Muppet.
WHAT?!

You know, a Muppet. Sesame Street?--The Muppet Show? A Muppet, man.
What the fuck are you talking about? I know what a fuckin' Muppet is.

Yes...Clearly.
---

(Prolonged silence)


So, what color is she going to be? Blue? Orange?
Dude, What is it with you and Muppets today?









Photo courtesy of Dean's iPhone. Dean is a total iPenis.









Yeah!! like her, see? That Muppety mouth, the same vacant stare.
Well, I told you, it ain't finished.

Do you guys sing lots of songs about numbers, and letters...
Fuck off.

...Or do they outgrow it?

Bye, Dave.







Extra deduction for the Olan Mills pose.








What this tattoo says about the wearer:

Dave's tattoo was brought to you by the letter P, and the number 2.










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Less Michael Moore

I met Josh in a bar in Lock Haven, Pennsyltucky. I was about a mile past drunk. He seemed to on the wrestling team at LHU. Or at least his jacket was.


"Hey...Man..HEY!!, Lemme see your tattoo."
"OK"

"That might be the best tattoo of a 'Homeless guy' I have ever seen. Actually, it might be the ONLY tattoo of a Bum I have ever seen. What made you"--
(interrupting) "It is Michael Moore, not a bum."

"Michael Moore? (synapses firing) michael moore?....OH!! You mean that homeless bum who makes movies. Gotcha."
"Dude, he is not a bum, he makes huge money. Quit being a fag."

"A fag? You roll around with dudes, wearing leotards, and I am the fag?"
"Yeah. You are the fag, Fag."

"Whoa--whoa...I just wanted to see your tattoo. Besides, I don't have a cute little leotard to put on."
(getting all puffed up) "You are lucky that you don't. I would destroy you."


"Yes...yes. No question. But, when we get back to your place--cover Michael up... it is going to be difficult for me to maintain a boner, with such an ugly face looking at me."


After he beat me up, we became BFFs, just like in the movies! I was able to let him know that his tattoo was great work...I just think it is dumb. And he was able to communicate that he disagrees with my opinion, he thinks that I am an asshole, and his kung fu is better than mine.




Extra deduction because if you needed to feel connected to Michael Moore, you could have just followed him on one of the social media sites. If you need to befriend a guy who needs a shave, and looks like he might smell bad-- here---Twitter, or myspace.






What this tattoo says about the wearer:

Weird things.







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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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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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Tony Danza Extravaganza

Technically, this is a great tattoo. The artist truly captured the very essence of Danza, from his little-boy haircut (that might be the best tattoo of hair I have ever seen), to his goofwad grin. From his thought-lined forehead, to his foppish bow-tie.
It is little wonder he turned Danny Pintauro gay.

The biggest problem is that this is a Tony Danza talk-show era tattoo. If it was a "Taxi" era Danza, or even a "Who's the Boss" era one, he might not have even made the cut to be enshrined in these hallowed pages.
Nah, I am full of shit. Any Danzatoo will get you in. How the fuck did that guy make it?
He is like Lionel Richie...I don't know a single person who likes him, but somehow, he has succeeded.




Extra deduction for making the poor artist spend HOURS on a portrait of Tony Fucking Danza.








What this tattoo says about the wearer:

I knock em dead with my Danza imitation ad nauseum:

"Angela! Samantha! Mona!"













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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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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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