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.
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.
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
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