"Let's do something stupid," Criss said.*
"Like what?" I replied.
"Let's get tattoos!" she squealed.
So, after much discussion of where to go, we decided on 5150 in North Hollywood (on Laurel Canyon), which was recommended by Artur, who is a douche for not coming with us, but whatever.
Oso, the recommended artist, couldn't fit us in until 6ish, which turned into 7ish as there was a band in there getting tatted. Okay, only two of them were getting anything done, but the whole band was there. And the one guy got an amazing arm tattoo of a murder of crows flying from wrist to elbow with a straight razor on his wrist (not sure about that part).
Finally, it was our turn. Criss went first. She got a velociraptor on her ankle bone.Criss was paying, I didn't want to get something too pricey. I spent the morning researching. I asked Annika and The Roy for advice, but in the end, I went with something different. See, I was going to choose a dragon (my Chinese zodiac) from the shop's flash panels, but there were no flash panels and the dragons I found in their books just didn't float my boat. Then one of the boys in the band, a little Brit who reminded me of my Daren, showed another guy his tattoo--a dragon on his left shoulder. The friend said, "Oh, yeah, big man. You got a dragon. Everyone has a dragon." I chose to avoid the dragon (No offense, Annika). Plus, this one wasn't very expensive at all. So what did I get?
Yes, it looks like the one needle top isn't matching up with the point; that's partly due to the original picture, but mostly due to my fat arm. Oh, yeah. I'm a badass knitta.
On my way home in torrential rains, I hit the mother of all puddles and I swear I floated to the other side. Jamie was a trooper, though, and got me home without conking out.
*which is not to say that getting tattoos is stupid (I have six of them now) but deciding on a whim on a Friday afternoon is not the smartest thing to do.