Thursday, September 2, 2010

What Happens in Vegas...

...sometimes come back with you.

Uh oh...

Last Saturday, August 28, a few of us headed out to Wet Republic at the MGM.  As the Pina Coladas and Frozen Lemonades kept flowing, we continued to get more and more ridiculous.  During our time at the pool all while under the hot 100 degree sun, we came up with a great idea.  Let's go get some dumb-ass tats.  Awesome.  I immediately wanted a 'Dancing Hot Dog'.  I don't know why.  It was just the first thing that came to my head, so I thought it was meant to be.  Everyone laughed.  During our time at the pool I had my cell phone in my shorts, I thought my shorts were water proof.  They weren't.  I did a little slip and slidding around and before I knew it my crackberry's life had ended.  As the day ended at the pool filled with strippers and roid monkeys (Chase) we headed back to Planet Hollywood.  Once we were back at PH I headed straight to Club Tattoo.  I was serious.  No one else was.  I was a little faded, but still able to make a rash or dumb decision.

As I entered the shop I noticed it was filled with all sorts of people.  Guys and girls, old and young, fat and skinny, drunk and sober.  This made me feel a little better.  I wasn't really an outcast.  Plus I have a sick tat already so I was one-up on a few people already.  In case you don't know, I already have a ridiculous tat.  It's an armband that is wrapped tightly around my left bicep.  It's not really a bicep anymore though.  Upper arm is what I'll call it.  It's a celtic band consisting of many knots and lines.  It's gay.  But not as gay as a dancing hot dog.  Back to the story.  So as I'm standing there waiting around I get approached by a girl whom I thought was one of the artists.  I start talking to her about my day, what me and my buddies were joking about and that I was dead serious about getting a dancing hot dog on my arm.  She looked at me, tilted her head to the left and this is how it went from there:

Tat girl: "Have you been drinking?"
Me: "No.  Does it look like I've been drinking?"
Tat girl: "Well you're wearing a V-neck shirt and it's on backwards and you want a tat of a dancing hot dog on your arm"
Me: "Oops.  When I put it on it was wet and it was hard to tell which was the front"
Tat girl: "How 'bout you go for a walk, grab a water and something to eat and then come back here and talk to me then?"
Me: "Ok."

1 Hour Later.

Tat girl: "Your back, how you feeling?"
Me: "I dont want a dancing hot dog anymore."

So it was then when I was introduced to Dina Rose, one of the artists at Club Tattoo in PH.  I told her that even though I just blew off the dancing hot dog, I still wanted something.  For years I've always wanted to get another tattoo.  I have the armband that I would eventually like to expand into a half sleeve.  But for now, I needed something small, quick, memorable and something that meant something and still looked cool.  I told her that I've always wanted the number '3'. 

By the way, the first tat I got wasn't taken to well by the family. It was at the supper table, I was 18 yrs old. My mom mentioned to me that people were talking about my buddy Cody Macintosh and his tattoo. I knew what was coming. She said that she heard that I got one as well, but she told her friends that i would never do that. Im way to nice of a boy. I used to sit next to my dad at the supper table. My left side facing him. He reached over and grabbed my sleeve and ripped it up my body. There it was. Knots and all. My new celtic arm band. "Jesus Fuckin Christ" was what my Dad said next. Then my Mom got up from the table, looked at me like I just killed a puppy and said "I can't beleive you did that to me!" She then left crying.

Anyways, back to the story.  The number 3 means alot to me.  Me and my brothers, Kevin and Craig all wore it playing baseball.  Now all my cousins seem to wear it.  We even bet on 3 when we play roulette. We wore it in honour of my cousin Danny, who died years ago when he was only 17.  Well since then I wear it for hockey and any other sport that I 'try' and play.  I have '3' on each side of my motorcycle as well.  Since I dont wear it alot I figure I should always have it on me for that reason.

Instead of the actual number '3' we decided that 'Three' in handwriting would look better.  And it does. I ended up getting it on the inside of my right forearm.  The tattoo took about an hour, and it didn't hurt to much.  Thanks Dina Rose.  The last time I got my armband it took about 3 hours and I think I even fainted once.  So forgive me for bragging about my new tat.  I only had one previously and I know I have lots of friends  who have them as well.  The sleeve will be next, It won't be no David Eno type shit 'cause I won't be able to handle that much pain.

I hope this inspires you to go out and get a tattoo.

...just don't get an armband or a dancing hot dog.




















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