Tattoo Me

Saturday, Nov. 05, 2005 - 10:36 a.m.

Here was yesterday's horoscope:

Dear Brin,
Here is your horoscope
for Friday, November 4:

You're probably feeling just about as restless as you ever have -- and you're just radical enough to do something about it. Don't even try to resist this energy. Get out that list of things you swore you'd try.

Okay.

Remember a little over six months ago when I played the April Fool Tattoo Joke on John?

When I went to the Sacred Rose tattoo parlor with JJ when she got *her* artwork done, I had been considering getting some of my own ink done. I had a basic idea picked out, but had been having a bitch of a time trying to find a design that I was sure I could live with.

As my regular readers know, I finally picked something out about a month ago.

Yesterday, I went and did the deed.

I went back to The Sacred Rose and got James to do my tattoo!

Here's where James works:

I filled out the form, I signed the thingumy that said I understood the liabilities, and away we went. James stepped outside for a smoke, which I presume is what he traditionally must do to steady his nerves before he begins, and I proffered my ID and finished my paperwork.

Then I went back into his work area. I pulled out my design, and he put it through a machine that made a transparency and utilized something that actually looked like good old fashioned carbon paper. First, he had me stand straight up with my arms at my sides. He applied an image transfer, and had me check in the mirror to see if I was happy with its placement. I was, and so then I sat down and put my arm up on the rest. He'd put on purple gloves and had the ink loaded. "Ya ready?" he said. "Yes, I think so." I replied.

He fired up the ink gun and said "Okay, here goes."

Then I felt the needle. It was a gentle buzz along with a slight press. My hand to Insert Deity Of Choice Here If Applicable -- it didn't hurt.

There was maybe one instance where I felt a little pressure, but otherwise -- no pain at all.

I told James the story of why I wanted the phoenix. I'm sure he's heard all of the stories behind everybody's artwork, and I bet he's heard some amazing and silly stuff. I'm sure my story was no different than any of the hundreds he has already listened to, but nevertheless, he was a nice listener.

At one point, I went ahead and double-checked. "So, how'm I doing? Pretty well behaved for an ink virgin?" and James laughed and said "Yeah, awesome. You're doing great!"

In less than fifteen minutes, he was done. He leaned back and turned off the ink gun. "That's IT?" I said. "We're done?" and James nodded and said "Yup! Go look in the big mirror and have a look and then we'll put some A&D on it and bandage you up."

I looked, and I loved it. Just as plain and simple as that, I loved it. I asked James if he'd take a picture of it for me before he dressed it, and he agreed:

And here's a picture of me with James, taken by Matt, the guy pulling reception duty that afternoon.

Then I went ahead and took the BART back over to where John works and let him have a peek.

He was a little squeamish, but he was very kind and appreciative of the artwork.

---

Friday night, we decided that a celebration in honor of my inkage was in order, so of course, we got ready to go to Denny's in Pacifica. We knew Caryn would be working and I wanted to show off the New Baby.

John had just gotten the brakes fixed on the car, but when he pulled out of the garage, there was a dreadful clanging sound issuing from the driver's side rear tire. I told John to pull the car back into the garage until we decided whether or not the vehicle was sound enough to drive. John placed a call to Greg The Mechanic, and I figured that since we weren't going anywhere now anyway, I might as well see if I could discover what was causing the noise. It was kind of a semi-ominous noise; not fatal-sounding, but still worrisome. I told John I thought it might be a loose bolt, because it reminded me of a sound from my high school days -- that perennial favorite, Rocks In The Hubcaps.

I squatted down and popped the outer decorative wheel cover, and discovered that the cap that actually covers the end of the axle had come off. I didn't see any screws, and John told me that the inner cap and outer cover were both friction-fit. So as John was calling Greg back to tell him we found the trouble and were fixing it, I put the cap back on the wheel-end and kicked it. It thumped back into place. Then I did the same with the outer cover. "She's fixing it right now," said John to Greg. "Yeah, and computers, too... and she fixed the toilet last summer.... Yeah, and she got her first tattoo earlier today!... Okay, she's done! Sorry to bother! Thanks!"

As we were leaving, I went and lifted the garage door, and found some fucknoid double parked across our driveway. "Don't block our driveway!" I yelled. "There's all sorts of places to double park that are NOT driveways!" .. and that driver shot me a mea culpa look, and hastily moved his car.

So we did go to Denny's after all, and we DID get to visit with Caryn, who was right at the end of her shift. We got one of the big round end booths, so I scooted over and she sat with us during dessert. She admired my art, too. :-)

---

Does it hurt? It actually smarts a little more today than it did during the actual application. Do I like it? Of course I do. Am I gonna get another one? Probably.

But there you have it, dear readers -- the true story of the day I got my first tattoo.

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