Just don’t.
Now, I know a lot of people out there are, like your truly, dig the ink and get totally jazzed at the thought of some new work adorning your flesh. Hell, if I had the money and the inspiration, my whole back would probably be covered in some serious needle work. But I don’t, so it isn’t.
Anyway, I right this because I came across a fellow asking for change the other day on Granville. He was striking up conversation with passers-by, trying to get a few coins so that he could maybe procure some sustainance, or at least booze. Not harm, no foul. I’m a big fan of street people.
But this one suit goes up the the fellow and tell him to get a job. The begger, whom I’m going to call Slappy for no reason in particular, takes this as a huge affront against his lifestyle. He gets angry and says something to extent that he’s tried but can land work on account of the giant freaking tattoo across his face. Three bright red perdurable scratch marks grace his cheek, with the effect of making it seem as though Slappy got in a fight with Wolverine and lost.
So Slappy was at a loss. No jobs for the face tatted. That is, unless you work in a tattoo shop or at the circus biting the heads of pigeons for cotton candy money
Not matter how cool it seems, or how rad Mikey Tyson is, or how much you want to be like that dude from Kubus and Bang Bang…
don’t get a tattoo on your face.
