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.

 

I've never seen the movie, but I hear this one is even cooler than the one Karl Urban wore.

Nothing accentuates a cool scar like a bitching tan.

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. Read the rest of this entry »