Mornin’ Beautiful Peeps,
“Can you blush,” is a racially-driven line in Blade II when Reinhardt and Blade or staring each other down. It might’ve been a throwaway line, but it’s stuck with me. The context I use it in is more along the lines of when I meet a fake person, how far can I take them before they tap out. Hey, I’m entitled to my free entertainment. You’ve already read I loathe lip service, so when I start getting that little itch that tells me the person’s just humoring me, it’s time to play.
Where the hell’re you goin’ with this, J?
So, Joey and I’ve been going to tattoo conventions for eight or so years starting in San Angelo and continuing here in Midland.
That’s where I got this bad boy.
We love the conventions, we’re among our friends from the various shops between Midland and O-Town. They’ve always treated us like fam, chairs and screwed up hands be damned. Anyhoo, we love watching the different artists doing their thing while we look through portfolios and pick up little free trinkets…all the while, casing shops to see if we’d want to get work done by them. It’s serious business getting a tattoo for us. We don’t just get tats for the hell of it, like this one dude I watched Cal put an AK-47 on his thigh. I asked him why he was getting it, and his answer was, “Just because I like (not love) them.” Cal and I made eye contact over his head and rolled our eyes. Yeah, that’s gonna be a cover up or lasered off, which I hear’s worse that getting the damn tattoo.
|Joey's Libra Scales she got at another convention.|
Also, like anywhere else, we take notice of the number of crips we see on the day we go. Call it narcissistic, perhaps, but it never ceases to amaze me the lack of crips going to whatever…and, forget about seeing another crip couple. Again, sad.
We’re walking around, and I’m after my Heaven’s Gates to go on my memorial arm. The thing is I wanted it from a female artist, and I hadn’t met my girl, Dre, yet. I’d honed in on one artist, and approached her. She seemed nice as I told her I wanted Heaven’s Gates under my right arm in color. The style, I left up to her. Her poker face twitched. Got ya!
She takes measurements, starts sketching, consults her friend, goes back to sketching, consults some more…all the while we’re waiting and watching. Yeah, we’re wasting time, and Joey’s getting irritated. I’m cool. I’m on the artist’s dime. You see, in the tattoo world, time’s money. I had the time and the money.
More waiting, I’m waiting. I see it coming. Wait for it, wait for it, wait… “I don’t think I can do this on you. There are other artists that can do it for you.” YES! Joey and Ashley were hot. I was upset I wouldn’t be getting my tat at the convention, but I had fun at the expense of a chicken shit…AND, more importantly, she was out of possibly making a big score with me or anybody else she could’ve been doing in that time.
So, I ask again, can you blush?
Be good to each other.
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