My buddy got this tattoo of a cartoon cat. The funny thing is the tail comes around from the back and it looks like that cat has a hard on. I love the tattoo but he regrets it for obvious reasons. Also, I remember reading in the paper that this dude got a fighting Irish tatoo. Problem was the artist spelled fighing irish not fighting irish. I bet that dumb ass regrets that.
Ha, misspells are awesome, I saw a dude at a show that had Strait Edge across his upper back. Hilarious.
Used to be this dude in Auckland that had a Parliament tattoo on his neck, but the 'i' was missing and then, in between the 'l' and the 'a' was an arrow pointing up, and he had the 'i'.
oh shit, cracked me up so hard each time i saw it, like putting the 'i' in made it alright.
Another one, last month a friend of mine in Sydney saw a homeless dude on Bondi beach with the words "Curley Stevens is my best friend" tattooed on th back of his head...
my friend was a singer in a band...they were making it kind of big in the local circuit, they sounded like creed and even went down to la to record with some big shot producer who did a bunch of mildly successful nu-metal acts and they were gonna shop their demo to a bunch of labels. anyway, dude is about to have all his dreams realized and gets the name of the band tattooed on his FOREARM to celebrate. like right there where everyone can see it. a few weeks later the band members vote to kick him out and replace him with some other dude. it was originally to get that tat, but dude took it surprisingly well, and we sharpied in all sorts of things on it, as he saved up some cash to get it removed (dude moved out of state but i don't think it's removed yet).
my kid's going to get her first tonite....wanted to give her a perspective from someone who regretted getting one.....didn't mean to hi-jack the other thread...my bad.
I've got a few regrets I'd like to pass on to your daughter...
I got my first tattoo by a "state raised convict" named Outlaw B*b.
I was 14. Die-hard Straight Edge. Utterly self-righteous. ("WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE?")
Outlaw had just got out of prison and made his living giving tattoos in his room at the pay-by-the-week motel above Kentucky Fried Chicken. I begged, offering to pay more, if he would tattoo the Xs on my hands so I didn't have to use a Sharpie every morning. Outlaw was frank, "What happens when you turn 16 and wanna get your dick wet and you gotta explain what these stupid things on your hands mean?" I settled on a skull as my first tattoo. (Other tattoo ideas included a man bearing my resemblance being crucified on a huge X with a banner that read, "DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR." Thank you Outlaw, for refusing. Thank you!)
After one late night tattoo session, Outlaw took me to an all-night diner to meet Daisy. Outlaw had chicks everywhere. Daisy was just one.
[aside] I don't know if I can paint an adequate picture of him, but I will try. Outlaw had spent most of his life in foster care, juvi, and prison. He was a member of the Hell's Angels. His *job* in the Angels was to give tattoos. Hell's Angels tattoos, as I understand it, are a "members only" thing. His other job was to use a straight razor to carve Angel-related tattoos off people who weren't members. (Yea, like, holding a dude down and cutting the skin right off his arm!) Outlaw himself was covered in tattoos. Most of them were prison related: clocks covered in cobwebs, skulls in the shape of keyholes, watch towers with "SOLEDAD 1979 - 1986" underneath, etc. He was just under 7 feet tall. During his last incarceration, while in solitary confinement for several months, Outlaw gave himself what I thought was the single-most impressive one man tattoo in the history of one man tattoos.
Using only his court papers, a match, shampoo and toothpaste he was able to cover his entire chest. The staple from the court papers, sharpened on the floor, was the "needle." With one sheet of paper he created a cylinder. Putting a toothpaste tube lid inside the cylinder, setting it on fire, then letting the little weird black thingies that float off burning plastic collect on the walls of the paper cylinder, he had the pigment for ink. Mixing the black thingies with a dab of shampoo in another toothpaste tube lid, he made ink.
I don't remember how he did the stencil, but the tattoo took him several weeks to complete. It covered his entire chest, from just under his neck to his belly button, nipple to nipple. It was done one prick at a time, dipping the staple into the toothpaste tube lid, then puncturing his chest.
The images were frightening. Scrolled across the top of his chest in an arch was, "SOCIAL OUTCAST." The L was missing a little at the top, which Outlaw explained, "I fucked up and put the stencil too high, and I couldn't see it below my chin." Underneath SOCIAL OUTCAST was a huge skull. About ten inches tall. HUGE. Underneath the skull was a Nazi sign made of tiny skulls. (*Outlaw was a white supremacist. A fact that shouldn't be omitted. Shut up Guzzo. I'll explain later.) Underneath the Nazi sign, in thick black letters, his stomach read, "FUCK THE WORLD."
Outlaw in "street clothes" looked like an extra in Con-Air. Prison issue boots, bell bottom jeans, no shirt, leather vest (open), a rather long goatee pulled into two horns, and steely I-eat-babies-for-fun eyes. If he ever wore a shirt, it was always the same one. A black tee with huge white letters that said, "SHOW ME YOUR TITS AND I'LL SHOW YOU MY COCK."
Me, being 14 and straight edge, would look at Outlaw in that shirt and think, "Man, this guy just doesn't get it." That is, until I saw it happen. He was tattooing a spider web in my armpit (yea, dude, talk about fucking ouch!), and ran out of ink. "We need to go to T*pt*n's." T*pt*n's was the local stationary store. Outlaw's "rig" was a homemade gun and India ink. I could barely put a shirt on because it hurt so bad, and I had to walk with my arm suspended to prevent putting pressure on my swollen armpit. We rode (Outlaw drove a Mach I, vrooom!) to T*pt*n's -- me with an ink-soaked armpit and Outlaw in his "SHOW ME YOUR TITS" shirt -- and when Outlaw put the 4 bottles of India ink on the counter, the saleswoman giggled a little.
Outlaw: "You like my shirt?" Saleswoman: [giggles] Outlaw: "What's your name, sweetheart?" Saleswoman: "Cindy" [I don't remember what her real name was, but it was something wholesome.]
I was floored. It worked. She gave him her number. [/aside]
I digress... So we're at this all-night diner with Daisy, and Outlaw tells Daisy, "Show him your work." Daisy asks me if I'd like to see her tattoos (I was in the height of my "I have one tattoo so I wear a sleeveless shirt" phase). Me, all cool, "Sure." Daisy (the embodiment of "Biker Queen") pulls her hair back. She's got moons tattooed all down her ear and neck. She pulls her shirt open and shows me her breast, which has a rose tattoo complete with the stem-piercing-the-nipple effect. She pulls the waist of her pants down and shows me her tattoos down there. Little flowers resembling male and female genitalia, all engaged in "pollination."
I felt my face turn red. Outlaw asked me if I wanted to fuck Daisy. I mean, straight up, right there in front of her. "You want a taste?" Daisy just smiled and stared at me. I was paralyzed. Daisy laughed and suggested maybe she was "too much woman" for me. She told me she had a young friend, A*****que, whom she would like me to meet.
Nothing in the Minor Threat liner notes provided me with ammunition against Daisy. It was at this moment that my self-righteous straight edgedness started crumbling.
Outlaw drove me to Daisy's one afternoon, where A*****que was waiting. Outlaw was insistent that, while my anti-drug/anti-drink stance was noble, I needed to "get some tail." I was a vulnerable 14-year-old, what could I do? (Perhaps you're wondering what mother would let her 14-year-old hang out in a rent-by-the-week motel room getting tattooed by some white supremacist ex-con? Life was kinda crazy. My mother, bless her heart, use to say of Outlaw, "Underneath it all, he's a sweet guy.")
It took A*****que and I about a week to find our way to nakedness.
Afterward, by the glow of my stereo's LCD, I laid looking at the huge X's on my hands, wondering if I had to wash them off. What will the underground think? I thought?
All emotional. Instantly in love with A*****que. Wondering what crazy turn my life would take next. A*****que whispered, "I am so glad I got to be the one to break you."
Ouch.
Regrets, I've had a few.
*A Footnote:[/b] Outlaw, after a few tumultuous years, had trouble escaping recidivism. He beat a man half to death, came to my house and took my money, and fled the state (violated parole several times in the process). I saw him years later. He had changed his name and "gone straight." He covered every last one of his supremacist tattoos, which were covering track marks from the start, with images of metamorphosis. (Imagine trying to cover years of scar tissue, which is painful enough, with thick, black tattoos. Then covering those tattoos with a bright, colorful Phoenix rising from flames. Ouch!)
Last I heard Outlaw was selling Amway and working as a trainer for professional wr
estlers.
(A*****que slept with my best friend after we broke up.)
one time me and a friend were at burger king, and we saw a dude with a tattoo of a rotweiller pissing on a tree... it wasn't very cool, i'd advise your daughter against that one if that was one she was considering, rockadelic
Great story....appreciate you taking the time to tell it.
Hard to imagine Outlaw B*b selling Amway.
Whe I first moved to Texas my wife was looking for a new gynecologist and called the AMA for a recommendation.....I drove her to the Dr, dropped her off and went to park the car....before I found a space my wife was back out in the parking lot ready to go home....apparently her new Doc looked alot like Outlaw B*b.....
True story - friend of mine tattoo's for a living - this thug guy came in and wants a Makaveli rocker. Now keep in mind - he has no idea who/what that is so he asks the guy to spell it for him and he does the tattoo. The rocker read "Mackeville".
True story - friend of mine tattoo's for a living - this thug guy came in and wants a Makaveli rocker. Now keep in mind - he has no idea who/what that is so he asks the guy to spell it for him and he does the tattoo. The rocker read "Mackeville".
True story - friend of mine tattoo's for a living - this thug guy came in and wants a Makaveli rocker. Now keep in mind - he has no idea who/what that is so he asks the guy to spell it for him and he does the tattoo. The rocker read "Mackeville".
Hey. Do Asians get tattoo's with english words on them? As opposed to Americans getting asian symbols. Just wondering.
Yes. Mister Cartoon is HUGE in Japan. Cartoon visits Tokyo often and works there for weeks at a time. Mad Japanese kids get tatted up by him with L.A. Mexican gang style tattoos. Little Japanese girls with Mister Cartoon back pieces? C-R-A-Z-Y!!!!! Check out the Japanese girl with the "Slippin' into darkness" back piece on his website.......
Different imagery of course. Don't regret it for a minute, but then again because it's on my back I sometimes forget I even have it.
Rock, as far as your daughter is concerned, I'd suggest sleeves. I always find sleeves sexy on the ladies. I would advise against a lower back tattoo. Overdone and disrupts the aesthetic flow of the female form.
One of my stupider ideas was Star Wars sleeves. Left the Empire, Right the Alliance, meeting together at the Death Star in the middle of my chest. This was just after my back was done, but years before the new trilogy Damn! I would probably have killed myself rather than look in the mirror at that everyday.
Different imagery of course. Don't regret it for a minute, but then again because it's on my back I sometimes forget I even have it.
Rock, as far as your daughter is concerned, I'd suggest sleeves. I always find sleeves sexy on the ladies. I would advise against a lower back tattoo. Overdone and disrupts the aesthetic flow of the female form.
One of my stupider ideas was Star Wars sleeves. Left the Empire, Right the Alliance, meeting together at the Death Star in the middle of my chest. This was just after my back was done, but years before the new trilogy Damn! I would probably have killed myself rather than look in the mirror at that everyday.
Peace, Cortez
theres a dude that works at ameoba that has a star wars sleeve.
loooong time ago when I was in Holland, I saw a dude at the beach with a Bruce Lee tattoo on his arm. Thing was....tat artist had made Bruce's pecs too round, so Bruce had tits not pecs. Ouch!!!
Here's one of the best tattoo regret stories in the making I've heard. A friend of mine knew this guy named Dwayne... A big buff black dude who lifted weights a lot. On his arm he got a Tazmanian Devil tattoo... Now, to me having a tattoo of Taz on your arm is sketchy enough, but to each his own. But oh, the story gets amusing here: the guy got his name tattooed below the Taz tattoo, but he had it intentionally misspelled "DUANE" rather than "DWAYNE" because it was one fewer letter and the tattoo cost less. Really, I've never heard of anything tattoo-related dumber than intentionally misspelling your own friggin' name on purpose.
Myself, I don't have any tattoos. They're a bit too permanent for me and I can just imagine totally regretting getting one ten years down the line. The irony is that people who got tattoos used to were fairly uncommon so having them really set you apart, but anymore I practically stick out like a sore thumb when I hang out with my friends because I *don't* have any tattoos or piercings.
Bambouche, you're a great writer and on the rare occasions you've written about your seriously strange past it's been jaw dropping. You need to do more writing.
Comments
I know a girl who just got a burger on her arm
tradewinds tattoo
oh shit, cracked me up so hard each time i saw it, like putting the 'i' in made it alright.
Another one, last month a friend of mine in Sydney saw a homeless dude on Bondi beach with the words "Curley Stevens is my best friend" tattooed on th back of his head...
I've got a few regrets I'd like to pass on to your daughter...
I got my first tattoo by a "state raised convict" named Outlaw B*b.
I was 14. Die-hard Straight Edge. Utterly self-righteous. ("WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE?")
Outlaw had just got out of prison and made his living giving tattoos in his room at the pay-by-the-week motel above Kentucky Fried Chicken. I begged, offering to pay more, if he would tattoo the Xs on my hands so I didn't have to use a Sharpie every morning. Outlaw was frank, "What happens when you turn 16 and wanna get your dick wet and you gotta explain what these stupid things on your hands mean?" I settled on a skull as my first tattoo. (Other tattoo ideas included a man bearing my resemblance being crucified on a huge X with a banner that read, "DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR." Thank you Outlaw, for refusing. Thank you!)
After one late night tattoo session, Outlaw took me to an all-night diner to meet Daisy. Outlaw had chicks everywhere. Daisy was just one.
[aside]
I don't know if I can paint an adequate picture of him, but I will try. Outlaw had spent most of his life in foster care, juvi, and prison. He was a member of the Hell's Angels. His *job* in the Angels was to give tattoos. Hell's Angels tattoos, as I understand it, are a "members only" thing. His other job was to use a straight razor to carve Angel-related tattoos off people who weren't members. (Yea, like, holding a dude down and cutting the skin right off his arm!) Outlaw himself was covered in tattoos. Most of them were prison related: clocks covered in cobwebs, skulls in the shape of keyholes, watch towers with "SOLEDAD 1979 - 1986" underneath, etc. He was just under 7 feet tall. During his last incarceration, while in solitary confinement for several months, Outlaw gave himself what I thought was the single-most impressive one man tattoo in the history of one man tattoos.
Using only his court papers, a match, shampoo and toothpaste he was able to cover his entire chest. The staple from the court papers, sharpened on the floor, was the "needle." With one sheet of paper he created a cylinder. Putting a toothpaste tube lid inside the cylinder, setting it on fire, then letting the little weird black thingies that float off burning plastic collect on the walls of the paper cylinder, he had the pigment for ink. Mixing the black thingies with a dab of shampoo in another toothpaste tube lid, he made ink.
I don't remember how he did the stencil, but the tattoo took him several weeks to complete. It covered his entire chest, from just under his neck to his belly button, nipple to nipple. It was done one prick at a time, dipping the staple into the toothpaste tube lid, then puncturing his chest.
The images were frightening. Scrolled across the top of his chest in an arch was, "SOCIAL OUTCAST." The L was missing a little at the top, which Outlaw explained, "I fucked up and put the stencil too high, and I couldn't see it below my chin." Underneath SOCIAL OUTCAST was a huge skull. About ten inches tall. HUGE. Underneath the skull was a Nazi sign made of tiny skulls. (*Outlaw was a white supremacist. A fact that shouldn't be omitted. Shut up Guzzo. I'll explain later.) Underneath the Nazi sign, in thick black letters, his stomach read, "FUCK THE WORLD."
Outlaw in "street clothes" looked like an extra in Con-Air. Prison issue boots, bell bottom jeans, no shirt, leather vest (open), a rather long goatee pulled into two horns, and steely I-eat-babies-for-fun eyes. If he ever wore a shirt, it was always the same one. A black tee with huge white letters that said, "SHOW ME YOUR TITS AND I'LL SHOW YOU MY COCK."
Me, being 14 and straight edge, would look at Outlaw in that shirt and think, "Man, this guy just doesn't get it." That is, until I saw it happen. He was tattooing a spider web in my armpit (yea, dude, talk about fucking ouch!), and ran out of ink. "We need to go to T*pt*n's." T*pt*n's was the local stationary store. Outlaw's "rig" was a homemade gun and India ink. I could barely put a shirt on because it hurt so bad, and I had to walk with my arm suspended to prevent putting pressure on my swollen armpit. We rode (Outlaw drove a Mach I, vrooom!) to T*pt*n's -- me with an ink-soaked armpit and Outlaw in his "SHOW ME YOUR TITS" shirt -- and when Outlaw put the 4 bottles of India ink on the counter, the saleswoman giggled a little.
Outlaw: "You like my shirt?"
Saleswoman: [giggles]
Outlaw: "What's your name, sweetheart?"
Saleswoman: "Cindy" [I don't remember what her real name was, but it was something wholesome.]
I was floored. It worked. She gave him her number.
[/aside]
I digress... So we're at this all-night diner with Daisy, and Outlaw tells Daisy, "Show him your work." Daisy asks me if I'd like to see her tattoos (I was in the height of my "I have one tattoo so I wear a sleeveless shirt" phase). Me, all cool, "Sure." Daisy (the embodiment of "Biker Queen") pulls her hair back. She's got moons tattooed all down her ear and neck. She pulls her shirt open and shows me her breast, which has a rose tattoo complete with the stem-piercing-the-nipple effect. She pulls the waist of her pants down and shows me her tattoos down there. Little flowers resembling male and female genitalia, all engaged in "pollination."
I felt my face turn red. Outlaw asked me if I wanted to fuck Daisy. I mean, straight up, right there in front of her. "You want a taste?" Daisy just smiled and stared at me. I was paralyzed. Daisy laughed and suggested maybe she was "too much woman" for me. She told me she had a young friend, A*****que, whom she would like me to meet.
Nothing in the Minor Threat liner notes provided me with ammunition against Daisy. It was at this moment that my self-righteous straight edgedness started crumbling.
Outlaw drove me to Daisy's one afternoon, where A*****que was waiting. Outlaw was insistent that, while my anti-drug/anti-drink stance was noble, I needed to "get some tail." I was a vulnerable 14-year-old, what could I do? (Perhaps you're wondering what mother would let her 14-year-old hang out in a rent-by-the-week motel room getting tattooed by some white supremacist ex-con? Life was kinda crazy. My mother, bless her heart, use to say of Outlaw, "Underneath it all, he's a sweet guy.")
It took A*****que and I about a week to find our way to nakedness.
Afterward, by the glow of my stereo's LCD, I laid looking at the huge X's on my hands, wondering if I had to wash them off. What will the underground think? I thought?
All emotional. Instantly in love with A*****que. Wondering what crazy turn my life would take next. A*****que whispered, "I am so glad I got to be the one to break you."
Ouch.
Regrets, I've had a few.
*A Footnote:[/b]
Outlaw, after a few tumultuous years, had trouble escaping recidivism. He beat a man half to death, came to my house and took my money, and fled the state (violated parole several times in the process). I saw him years later. He had changed his name and "gone straight." He covered every last one of his supremacist tattoos, which were covering track marks from the start, with images of metamorphosis. (Imagine trying to cover years of scar tissue, which is painful enough, with thick, black tattoos. Then covering those tattoos with a bright, colorful Phoenix rising from flames. Ouch!)
Last I heard Outlaw was selling Amway and working as a trainer for professional wr estlers.
(A*****que slept with my best friend after we broke up.)
That was a hell of a story!!
What are X's on your hands supposed to signify?
Thank you for that story, you just made my night.
Dude is just out of step with the world.
one time me and a friend were at burger king, and we saw a dude with a tattoo of a rotweiller pissing on a tree... it wasn't very cool, i'd advise your daughter against that one if that was one she was considering, rockadelic
hahahahahahaha
Bam,
Great story....appreciate you taking the time to tell it.
Hard to imagine Outlaw B*b selling Amway.
Whe I first moved to Texas my wife was looking for a new gynecologist and called the AMA for a recommendation.....I drove her to the Dr, dropped her off and went to park the car....before I found a space my wife was back out in the parking lot ready to go home....apparently her new Doc looked alot like Outlaw B*b.....
For a Gynecologist!!
I have no idea who/what that is.
2Pac alias I believe.
Yes. Mister Cartoon is HUGE in Japan. Cartoon visits Tokyo often and works there for weeks at a time. Mad Japanese kids get tatted up by him with L.A. Mexican gang style tattoos. Little Japanese girls with Mister Cartoon back pieces? C-R-A-Z-Y!!!!!
Check out the Japanese girl with the "Slippin' into darkness" back piece on his website.......
www.mistercartoon.com
Different imagery of course. Don't regret it for a minute, but then again because it's on my back I sometimes forget I even have it.
Rock, as far as your daughter is concerned, I'd suggest sleeves. I always find sleeves sexy on the ladies. I would advise against a lower back tattoo. Overdone and disrupts the aesthetic flow of the female form.
One of my stupider ideas was Star Wars sleeves. Left the Empire, Right the Alliance, meeting together at the Death Star in the middle of my chest. This was just after my back was done, but years before the new trilogy Damn! I would probably have killed myself rather than look in the mirror at that everyday.
Peace,
Cortez
theres a dude that works at ameoba that has a star wars sleeve.
I might have second thunk it if it looks like this:
Peace,
Cortez
Last year I saw a gal in Shibuya who's exposed right shoulder blade read:
"Lobe me."
Myself, I don't have any tattoos. They're a bit too permanent for me and I can just imagine totally regretting getting one ten years down the line. The irony is that people who got tattoos used to were fairly uncommon so having them really set you apart, but anymore I practically stick out like a sore thumb when I hang out with my friends because I *don't* have any tattoos or piercings.
AKA the Ian McKaye manifesto...