Twenty Five Tattos, Twenty Five Years

I have a picture, but my phone is being stupid and is taking forever to send the email. It's forthcoming, fear not.

I'm so happy with her. I stopped by the shop yesterday after work and Dustin could take me immediately. Woohoo! He really loved the idea which always makes it more fun. After all, you don't want an artist who isn't into what they're working on. I love the placement, I love the colors, I just love everything about her. He spent close to two hours on it. As I've said before, it's more combating boredom than dealing with the pain. Up near my elbow wasn't particularly comfortable, but not like some of what I've had to deal with. I'm going to be totally screwed when I run out of space on my arms. Then tattoos are going to hurt again. Kurt was in working on Laura's arm, so we also had them to chat with. She's already starting to scab up, but she's still swollen and emanating heat. That's the part I hate the most after the itching. It's also why I'm not looking forward to the aftermath of my eventual shin piece.

After he finished, we went over to Thinking Man and shot the shit for a while. There was this super drunk guy there who was a source of endless entertainment. He was wurring his slurds quite impressively. Drunk people are far more entertaining when you're sober.

I'm probably gonna swing by the shop Friday so he can try to get a better picture. We weren't having much luck immediately after. It has to be better than the picture I took on my phone from a weird angle. Taking pictures of your own arm is a lot harder than it looks, kiddies. Don't try this at home.

So for the moment I have 25 tattoos to go with my 25 years on this earth. Of course by the end of August, it'll be at least 27. Coincidentally, that's my lucky number. Good times.