I went to the beach the other day. As a temporarily disabled person, I thought a day trip might help me forget all the paychecks I’m not earning. In addition, my Robo-Cop brace will undoubtedly result in a bitching-cool tan pattern on my otherwise withering arm.
The trip served its intended purposes and then some; I’ve got a decent base coat on my lame wing and my rapidly dwindling cash reserves are no longer the star of my every thought. As it happens, my brain has a new focus. Having spent several hours staring at hundreds of scantily clad strangers while my wife slept nearby under the umbrella, I’ve developed a new fascination with what I’ll lovingly describe as rib tickler tattoos.
As a non-tatted sort of fellow, I have an outsider’s view on any body ink. I’ve written about tattoos before, and barring a sudden emergence of fun new topics, I likely will again. For those of you who are Amish and/or possibly live in cold places where the only ribs you see are accompanied by cornbread and wet naps, allow me to provide a description. Many people have written words tattooed on their sides. The number of words may vary anywhere from just a couple all the way up to a short essay.
I’ve taken the liberty of delving further into this phenomenon. My research was purely observational, as I was quite comfortable in my beach chair and didn’t wish to actually speak with anyone.
The subject must first decide whether to ink up the left or right rib cage, below the armpit and above the love handles. Anatomically, the ribs on the left are closer to the heart. In fairness to the lesser organs, it should be mentioned that the left ribs are really close to the spleen. The right sided ribs are in liver and gall bladder territory. One could assume then, that left-sided tattoos represent something near and dear to the person’s heart, as there is scant history of anyone having particularly deep feelings about their spleens. We can further deduce that right-sided body art is likely to be related to alcohol, fatty foods or because the left-side ribs were already occupied.
Once the landing zone for the ink is chosen, it’s time to come up with some sort of quote. Consider for a moment how exciting this concept must be for those of us who write. After publishing countless blog posts and wondering if people actually read anymore, this is big news. Sadly, most quotes appear to come close to the length of Tweets and not the long-winded dissertations about middle age, dog flatulence and male-pattern baldness for which my blog post are known.
After the text is chosen, it’s time pick a font. Many of the women appear to favor what can best be described as “swirly-girlie script“. These ladies are likely unaware of some of the pitfalls of this style, as illustrated by countless misinterpretations of wedding invitations. More than a few guests have been stumped trying to find “Faturday Feptember Fixth” on their calendars – those fancy S’s just look too much like F’s. Block lettering is rarely seen in the rib locale, and Gothic appears to typically be reserved for chest or back displays of faith, gang affiliation or soccer team allegiance.
I would go into detail of what the rib tickler tattoos say, but there were problems with deciphering content. Many people on the beach don’t hold still long enough to allow for reading of their girdle graffiti. When they do stand motionless, the messages are nearly always bisected by their arms, which may or may not have inked messages of their own. Those who lie motionless on blankets with their arms over their heads present better visual access. However, trying to read flowery script sideways from a discreet distance while not appearing to be a pervert looking for side-boob eye-candy is more difficult than one might imagine.
One guy who was wading near me appeared to have something about a “..man from Nantucket” on his ribs, but an unfortunate heat rash obscured the rest. A girl on the next blanket had a vaguely familiar passage on her which seemed to include the idea that “..if you love fomething, fet it free..“. I would tell you the rest of the quote, but before I could read it, she scowled at me, tied her bikini top back on and left.
It occurred to me that above-elbow amputees without their prosthetics could count on better readability than the rest of us. If I were in their situation though, I’d prefer to have the tattoo be of my missing arm, which in turn could have a tattoo on it. I’ll keep you posted in the event I lose an arm and find a quote that has such deep meaning to me that I need to emblazon it beneath my armpit.
Permanently having oneself decorated with words should not be taken lightly. Bearing this in mind, I’d like to use this blog platform to declare any and all phrases written by myself on this or my primary blog (1pointperspective) as free for the taking for anyone who’s considering a rib tickler tattoo but can’t find anything else catchy enough for their liking. I’ve taken the liberty of picking out a few random snippets of my word-smithery for your consideration;
“Would “E.T.” have touched our hearts so deeply if Spielberg had sailed through his early years without a single titty-twister?” – Bully For You
– + –
“As the world teeters on the brink of absolute bedlam, I suppose it’s a perverse luxury to spend our time worrying about a skinny white girl shaking her moneymaker on a TV award show.” – More Tawdry Viewing
– + –
“Let’s not get it twisted, I aint no retiree in a Bunny suit down at the mall gettin’ my pic snapped with your brat for five bucks a throw. I’m talking the real deal here – these ears aint clip-ons.” – Life On The Trail *
– + –
“…the spelling portion of the pet grooming curriculum is not as critical as “Advanced Schnauzer Trimming” or graduate level offerings such as “Persian Cats and the Dingleberry Dilemma.” – The Sarcasm Workout
– + –
“I explained to my wife, who should already know me better than this, that I draw left handed, but do athletic things right handed. After she stopped laughing, she demanded to know how I could classify wiping my ass as an athletic feat.” – Livin’ La Vida Lefty
– + –
By all means, don’t feel obligated to choose from only these samples, you’re more than welcome to read every blog word I’ve written. Get your friends to do the same, so they can give you feedback. Anyone who chooses to use my words on their rib tickler tattoo is guaranteed to have their very own custom post written by yours truly. Just send me a photo of the finished work so I can include it in the blog once I finish shaking my head. As always, I reserve the right to ridicule you.
I realize this is littered with shameless self promotion, but hopefully my inclusion of a little beach cheesecake will distract BD enough to keep her from firing me. FYI: I still forgot the eggs, even with the shopping list.
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I was so distracted by the cheesecake that I forgot all about the possibility that thar might be pirates in yonder schooner.
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There’s treasure in these waters and I aims to find it. Aaaargh!
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Seriously, I had about a half a dozen comments drafted and then I got to Mrs. 1PP’s shopping list and . . poof!
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I was just relieved that she didn’t put any feminine hygiene products on the list…
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It would have if you’d included a shot of me and my tattoo. But now you’ve lost your chance, buster, of ever laying eyes upon what’s written on my lower back. But I’ll dangle this: I didn’t use the letter “s” once.
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If I had a pic of you and your body art, it’s doubtful I would have found the time to write any stinkin’ blog posts. For the record, I’m sure your lower back does not contain a tramp stamp, but rather an elegant example of the craft, which accentuates your womanly form.
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Flattery will not get you a raise.
But it will get you the last piece of yesterday’s coffee cake.
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Day old coffee cake is part of the reason why I have to use older bathing suit pics…
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*snort*
Dave, you should have your own comedy channel. Wait. I guess you do.
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I do, and it pays about as well as any of these blogs.
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Oh, well now, great. Just great. Now I have this mental image to contend with, too.
Fine.
I will not be commenting today, which is a shame because I recall it was something pithy having to do with external spleen tattoos or . . . I don’t know. . .something.
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No comments?! Please, can’t I just have one more?
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Tattoo. Tattoo. TATTOO!
Please don’t not comment. Because it sounds like you have some “spleening” to do, Lucy. Lily. Pretty flower lady.
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I lost my spleen in 1986 and my life hasn’t been the same since, probably because I go around telling perfect strangers (and you are perfect, both of you) that I lost my spleen in 1986.
So, I’m thinking in honor of my fallen spleen, my tattoo could be an external one, encircled with either my tag line (peace.love.hyperbole!) or something more tasteful, such as an homage to Pete Seeger’s banjo:
Thif machine furroundf hate and forcef it to furrender.
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I’m spleening with laugher here. Or is that fpleening?
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I’m alwayf amazed at the fophifticated banter which a filly little blog poft can fpawn.
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That’f becaufe you’re ftarved for affection. I think we fhould make more of an effort to fee you af you really are. A fentimental foftie. With fix-pack abf and furround found farcafm in your brain.
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Fuffering Fucatash! You hit the nail on the head!
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Reblogged this on 1pointperspective and commented:
Here’s my latest post over at The Nudge Wink Report. It includes social commentary, me whining and shameless self promotion. What else would you expect? Now be a good little reader and go over there to see it. Also, send me a pic of the tattoo once it’s not scabby anymore.
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This post isn’t as shameless as it could have been. Thank you for your restraint.
That mechanical elbow brace you’re sporting doesn’t seem to have affected your funny bone. It’s still fully functioning.
I’m not sure your readers are going to believe that image of you standing on the sand in front of the sailboat is really you.
How can we contact Mrs. OnePP?
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She usually goes incommunicado for a few days when I post blogs, so good luck with catching up with her. As for the photo, it’s me alright. I was going to use a pic of Karl Urban, but some blogger lady downloaded so many of them that the links were all worn out.
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Ah, yes. Karl. I’ve been badly mistreating that man. I think he loves it.
I took down my Karl page on my blog because it was too distracting. I must write a post about male beauty. I could use that image of you in my post… *winks and nods head*
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I’m thinking that once my wife sees that pic of me with the shopping list, she’ll reconsider getting me inked up. I’m thinking of getting a picture of abs tattooed across my belly, or maybe a Disney character on my atrophied arm.
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If you go with the abs, specify you mean a “six-pack” of abs. Not just a six-pack.
Huge difference. HUGE.
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Now you tell me! I have a lovely tattoo of six bottles of Centennial Brewing’s All Day IPA across my gut now. At least they have nice labels.
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Maybe you could get the shopping list tattooed. It would be even cuter if ribs were one of the items. Of course you’d have to eat the same things all the time, but don’t we all?
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I’m guessing my fellow shoppers might not appreciate me constantly lifting my shirt up to check the list.
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Reblogged this on Blogdramedy and commented:
This week on NWR, Dave inks humorous on the subject of tattoos. Via the use of sunglasses he discretely checked out the local beach action and I think I liked what he saw. *wink* Stop on my and share YOUR tattoo stories. If you don’t have a tattoo, share that too so he doesn’t feel so alone. Lonely reporters get up to no good and NWR doesn’t offer medical.
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Mine would say, “Roll me over for even more excitement.”
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Truth in advertising? In today’s marketplace?!
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The wife and I took the kids to a place in Missouri called Johnson’s Shut Ins near the Ozarks. We were pretty sure that the local yella pages must be littered with tattoo coupons because everyone had them not only on their ribs, but all over their bodies. Such fun quips as “tits is neet” and “Dayle Ernhart is #1” and my favorite, “ass, gas or grass, nobody rides for free” with an arrow pointing to whatever was in the front of the man’s swimsuit made for a day of family fun.
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Ahh…now I’m getting nostalgic. I recall taking my kids to Chuckee Cheez for a 6th birthday party and seeing a rather large, toothless woman who’s shirt read “Stop Staring at My Tits!”. Needless to say, she was not with my party….harumph.
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I think it’s not easy to pick just one quote, so iideally you’d probably want people to tattoo this full post on them (and I think I saw people at Walmart with enough tattooable real estate to manage it – but anybody has enough space for the post’s URL.
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I was kind of hoping for an indie rocker or maybe a Victoria’s Secret model and not Honey Boo Boo’s mother. Still, I made my offer, now I have to honor it.
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Well, if they tattoo sharing buttons next to the URL, maybe your tattoos can go viral.
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I would love a tattoo. I would like it to say, “I’m With Smelly.”
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With an arrow up towards your armpit?
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Well… if it applies, sure.
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That sound you hear is Dave missing the hidden meaning in your comment.
But that’s understandable.
He’s got those missing abs to go searching for.
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Too busy breaking records…you know. My abs aren’t missing, I keep them carefully hidden beneath a protective layer of fat and hair.
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Poor thing. I understand now.
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Funny stuff, and I enjoyed your manly beach pic! Hubba! Hubba! Thanks for the Sunday am laughs, I try to read tats also and not appear obvious. I found a misspelled one online for a blog post once but I’m pretty sure the owner was not aware of it. 🙂
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Glad you enjoyed the post and cheesecake – no tipping, please. Internet tattoo searches are not for the faint of heart.
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While those are all great suggestions, (especially the ass-wiping quote) I’m not a big fan of pain. If I ever get a tattoo, I think I’d like to get the shortest thing possible. Maybe the word “ouch”. Or just an exclamation point.
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My wife is a nurse in a surgery center. She cracks up when the tattooed, pierced patients come in and whine about having an IV started.
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“..if you love fomething, fet it free..” I spat out my hot water when I read that (yeah, I live it large in London). The swirly-girlie script is truly vile, but nothing chills the bones of a designer/typographer/artworker/mac monkey more than comic sans. Trust me, I know.
I’m very impressed by your deep research into rib tickler tattoos, so we didn’t have to. I’m only a small Pie, so I won’t be able to fit one of your fine quotes on my side, but perhaps I could find something shorter if I was stupid enough to try it. I don’t know if you’re on Twitter, but I would recommend following @ShitTats. It does exactly what it says and there are some absolute shockers. Although I’ve toyed with the idea of having a tat, following this account has made sure that idea will stay resolutely in the box.
Nice abs by the way, if you were put in the ring with Stone Cold Steve Austin, The Rock, or whoever the big name is in WWE right now, you’d fit right in. As long as you’re not expected to actually fight.
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For a small Pie, you leave one hell of a comment. I’m not actually as massive as I appeared in that photo, I was bulked up with rum and fruit juices at the time.
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And there’s nothing wrong with that! Mine’s a straight vodka, with ice. Or a red wine, if I want to appear sophisticated.
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No tats for me. I grew up watching the doctor fill a thick, bent, dull needle with “whatever” to stick through my miniscule butt meat before the advent of the disposable needle, so I’m not all that eager to spend 4 hours getting needled just to put a word stream across my ribs. 🙂
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I’ve never gotten one either. I’m a little too choosy about my words, my art (and my skin). Who knows what the future holds though, I may change my mind.
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I didn’t understood this joke when I was 20, but now I understand it all too well. The problem with a butterfly tattoo on a woman’s breast is that it turns into a moth when she’s 50. Also, it’s a turn-off to date a man with his ex-wife’s name still tattooed on his arm. 🙂
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Needless to say, in 40 years, there are going to be some interesting versions of current tatts. Gravity is not a gentle mistress.
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Not a big fan of the tattoo, but love, LOVE the idea of an amputee tattooing the rest of the missing limb on their side.
My 22-year-old girl child casually announced she’s considering inking all the way down her arm, to go with the semi-discreet anchor already tattooed on the upper arm. I should get best actress of the year because of my award-winning performance as a “hip, with-it, calmly exploring the ramifications” mother delivering measured advice, instead of following my first impulse, which was screaming at the top of my lungs, “are you $%#^&*@(! nuts???????”
On the ribs and corn bread menu, wondering about the wet nap. Is that an erotic dream that occurs during the day? Inquiring minds…
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I was actually thinking pre-moistened towelettes. I tend to prefer your version. Needless to say, I’ll never look at afternoon snoozes or Wash N Dri’s the same way now.
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Never mind the words I want that uber cool rabbit! Except I think he would be even better if you could draw that contraption you have on your arm and have him wearing it.
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The Easter Bunny is too tough to wear one of those silly braces. Besides, it might interfere with his consumption of hi-balls.
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