I’m Stopping At 5

When I was young (naive and didn’t have kids), I said I wanted 4 kids, all boys.

Well, with that theory in mind, I couldn’t let the number of kids equal or outweigh my number of tattoos (I mean come on…who does that?!).

Soooooo….I got another one.

Tat not kid.

I know, I know. I said I was done. Tat not kid. (Well maybe kids, not tats….noooo, maybe I’ll have another one. Wait, this is getting confusing).

Yes, I just got a couple of tats not too long ago.

I think I might need a hobby. This is getting painful. Whoever said tats don’t hurt must have been drunk. Or high. Or really tough.

THIS ONE HURT!

I took a 500 mg Tylenol before I went and it might as well been a Skittle. That thing didn’t do jack!!!!

I suggested to Howard (the best, funniest, and most patient tat guy with a needle) that perhaps his esteemed tattoo parlor should offer “numbing cream” to it’s more fragile cients. By the glare he shot me, you would have thought I suggested he don a tutu and Choos while tatting me. (BTW, I can’t say enough good things about Howard, if you’re ever in Los Angeles, HE IS THE MAN!)

So, here’s my suggestions to tattoo places across the world:

NUMBING CREAM and MARIAH CAREY

The Mariah is for relaxation. Her melodic zillion octave range always has that effect on me.

Oh well, enough of my whining…I made it out alive, but that one put a beating on me.

I’m pretty sure I’d have another kid before I get another tat! At least they give you an epidural.

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