Tattoos

I tried to convince Britt to get this.

My cousin was up visiting last week and she wanted to get a tattoo. I obliged and took the ole gal to get some ink. We asked around and finally settled on an establishment recommended by a couple of friends. I didn't even think about calling ahead and making an appointment, I thought you just showed up and that was that. I mean, it was a Wednesday night at 6 o'clock. Well, we got there, and that place was bumping, and by that, I mean there were 2 tattoo artists and 3 people waiting for tattoos. Luckily, Brittany's tattoo was so small that Nasty Nate said he would go ahead and fit her in before the dude with the appointment. So, we were ushered to the back of the parlor and Britt's arm began to be branded.

I was sitting there observing when it occurred to me that tattoo parlor talk and salon talk is basically the same, only tattoo artists and parlor clientele like to say the F word much more than the women at the salon. While we were there, I heard about the hardships of parenting, dudes being unfaithful to their wives, discussions regarding earrings and what style was most desired, employment statuses, and what to make for supper. The only thing missing was the horrible music. Tattoo parlors always have awesome playlists.