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Archive for April 19th, 2010

I have 4 tattoos. Well, 5 I guess, but the fifth was more of an add on. I’d really like to tell you an entertaining story about how one of these tattoos is a giant butterfly spanning both of my butt cheeks but alas, my tattoo stories are INCREDIBLY BORING. Too bad for you I’m going to tell you about them anyway.

Bill got his first tattoo on his 18th birthday, a dragon centered between his shoulder blades. Here is where I tell you that Bill has a lifelong OBSESSION with dinosaurs. He like LOVE loves them. It’s so bad that I refuse to read the kids any of our 5,814 dinosaur themed books because OH MY GOD if I say the name wrong he is correcting me from 3 rooms away. It’s like piano lessons all over again, with my mom yelling out “C# CHRISSY! C#!” when I’d hit A by mistake. And then he scoffs and starts mumbling when the book isn’t accurate. “Jesus Christ, there was never such a thing as a Brontosaurus, that’s a Brachiosaurus what kind of idiot wrote this book”. And if I didn’t already know his answer would be “That’s no excuse”, at this point I’d say GEE, BILL- MAYBE SOMEONE WRITING FOR A 18 MONTH OLD? IT’S ALSO PURPLE AND PINK AND WEARING A TUTU. LET IT GO.

Where was I going with this? Riiiiight. Tattoos. So what are dragons if not totally pimped out dinosaurs? (Also? FICTIONAL. Don’t tell Bill.) So Bill loves his dragon tattoo, the only downside is that it’s on his back where he can’t see it without strategically placed mirrors. I never considered myself a tattoo person but around my 21st birthday I made the decision to get one. I really can’t even remember what prompted it, I just knew it was something I wanted to do, and so I had this one done:

Japanese character: To Dream

Going in I knew I wanted it somewhere I could see it, but not somewhere tramp-stampy like my stomach or lower back. (If that’s where your tattoo is, I am not dissing you. I knew that kids and getting chubby were a definite possibility for myself at some point and I wasn’t that brave.) In my case To Dream doesn’t hold some fanciful meaning about dreaming big or not losing sight of your hopes and BLAH BLAH CHEESEYBLAH-CAKES. It literally means, to dream. As in, what you do when you sleep. I have had vivid dreams my whole life. I’d like to tell you a little bit about that, but I don’t think it’s possible without coming off sort of, what do you call it? Oh yes. Batshit crazy. Let’s just say David Lynch would pay good money to get inside my REM sleep. This is the only tattoo of mine that is all me and for that reason alone, I love it.

Star. Duh.

Here is another one related to sleep. I’ve mentioned before that Bill reads aloud to me, to help me fall asleep. Back when we lived in the love nest, I had a ridiculous amount of credits stacked up and was under a ton of pressure, making my insomnia particularly bad. Bill was reading up in our little loft hole and I laid next to him, listening but unable to sleep. Often on these nights I would grab a pen and start drawing on his arm, and on one such occasion I connected the dots of the freckles on his shoulder and they happened to take the shape of a star. Soon after he got this same star on his left shoulder and I put it on my foot. Aren’t we cute? BLARRCKKK.

And these? Are our Elvish geekery tattoos. The cj-ish looking one is my initials in Tolkien’s tengwar script, and the other is Bill’s initials. He did the same, with a more masculine version of the script. I will give you a few seconds to marvel at our complete and utter geekery. Done? Impressive, I know. I originally had just the middle symbol but a year or so later I added the henna inspired wrist band, because the script was a little too small and looked lost on my wrist. The cool part about having your significant other’s initials in a different (and completely fake!) language is that if we ever divorce (unlikely, as I made a deal with the devil to keep him forever, the poor sucker) I can just tell people it means something else, like Save the dolphins! or O’Doyle Rules! Or I could just put a circle with a diagonal cross through it, whateves.

So, um…yeah. That’s it. Tattoos are completely addicting. I got all of these within about 2 or so years of each other and would love to get one or more incorporating the kids but haven’t thought of what to do or where to put it (hmmm, buttcheeks anyone?) Just like anything, tattoos are subject to the eye of the beholder. My own taste in tattoos can be summed up as understated and meaningful. I completely understand that they are not for everyone but to me they tell a story about who you are. I read something once that said if you ever wanted to get a tattoo just go find an elderly person with one and you’ll be deterred. Wrinkly tattoos are gross, was the message. I don’t think so though. I think they’re a part of that person’s make-up and they can be beautiful no matter how old, or how faded they become. And maybe it’s just me, but I don’t mind wearing a little bit of who I am on the outside. It reminds me of where I was and where I am and that’s not such a bad thing.

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I have 4 tattoos. Well, 5 I guess, but the fifth was more of an add on. I’d really like to tell you an entertaining story about how one of these tattoos is a giant butterfly spanning both of my butt cheeks but alas, my tattoo stories are INCREDIBLY BORING. Too bad for you I’m going to tell you about them anyway.

Bill got his first tattoo on his 18th birthday, a dragon centered between his shoulder blades. Here is where I tell you that Bill has a lifelong OBSESSION with dinosaurs. He like LOVE loves them. It’s so bad that I refuse to read the kids any of our 5,814 dinosaur themed books because OH MY GOD if I say the name wrong he is correcting me from 3 rooms away. It’s like piano lessons all over again, with my mom yelling out “C# CHRISSY! C#!” when I’d hit A by mistake. And then he scoffs and starts mumbling when the book isn’t accurate. “Jesus Christ, there was never such a thing as a Brontosaurus, that’s a Brachiosaurus what kind of idiot wrote this book”. And if I didn’t already know his answer would be “That’s no excuse”, at this point I’d say GEE, BILL- MAYBE SOMEONE WRITING FOR A 18 MONTH OLD? IT’S ALSO PURPLE AND PINK AND WEARING A TUTU. LET IT GO.

Where was I going with this? Riiiiight. Tattoos. So what are dragons if not totally pimped out dinosaurs? (Also? FICTIONAL. Don’t tell Bill.) So Bill loves his dragon tattoo, the only downside is that it’s on his back where he can’t see it without strategically placed mirrors. I never considered myself a tattoo person but around my 21st birthday I made the decision to get one. I really can’t even remember what prompted it, I just knew it was something I wanted to do, and so I had this one done:

Japanese character: To Dream

Going in I knew I wanted it somewhere I could see it, but not somewhere tramp-stampy like my stomach or lower back. (If that’s where your tattoo is, I am not dissing you. I knew that kids and getting chubby were a definite possibility for myself at some point and I wasn’t that brave.) In my case To Dream doesn’t hold some fanciful meaning about dreaming big or not losing sight of your hopes and BLAH BLAH CHEESEYBLAH-CAKES. It literally means, to dream. As in, what you do when you sleep. I have had vivid dreams my whole life. I’d like to tell you a little bit about that, but I don’t think it’s possible without coming off sort of, what do you call it? Oh yes. Batshit crazy. Let’s just say David Lynch would pay good money to get inside my REM sleep. This is the only tattoo of mine that is all me and for that reason alone, I love it.

Star. Duh.

Here is another one related to sleep. I’ve mentioned before that Bill reads aloud to me, to help me fall asleep. Back when we lived in the love nest, I had a ridiculous amount of credits stacked up and was under a ton of pressure, making my insomnia particularly bad. Bill was reading up in our little loft hole and I laid next to him, listening but unable to sleep. Often on these nights I would grab a pen and start drawing on his arm, and on one such occasion I connected the dots of the freckles on his shoulder and they happened to take the shape of a star. Soon after he got this same star on his left shoulder and I put it on my foot. Aren’t we cute? BLARRCKKK.

And these? Are our Elvish geekery tattoos. The cj-ish looking one is my initials in Tolkien’s tengwar script, and the other is Bill’s initials. He did the same, with a more masculine version of the script. I will give you a few seconds to marvel at our complete and utter geekery. Done? Impressive, I know. I originally had just the middle symbol but a year or so later I added the henna inspired wrist band, because the script was a little too small and looked lost on my wrist. The cool part about having your significant other’s initials in a different (and completely fake!) language is that if we ever divorce (unlikely, as I made a deal with the devil to keep him forever, the poor sucker) I can just tell people it means something else, like Save the dolphins! or O’Doyle Rules! Or I could just put a circle with a diagonal cross through it, whateves.

So, um…yeah. That’s it. Tattoos are completely addicting. I got all of these within about 2 or so years of each other and would love to get one or more incorporating the kids but haven’t thought of what to do or where to put it (hmmm, buttcheeks anyone?) Just like anything, tattoos are subject to the eye of the beholder. My own taste in tattoos can be summed up as understated and meaningful. I completely understand that they are not for everyone but to me they tell a story about who you are. I read something once that said if you ever wanted to get a tattoo just go find an elderly person with one and you’ll be deterred. Wrinkly tattoos are gross, was the message. I don’t think so though. I think they’re a part of that person’s make-up and they can be beautiful no matter how old, or how faded they become. And maybe it’s just me, but I don’t mind wearing a little bit of who I am on the outside. It reminds me of where I was and where I am and that’s not such a bad thing.

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