Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Adventures in Bad Decision Making (Updated)
I saw her at a restaurant in Clearwater Beach. She walked in with her boyfriend—a little guy with a sparse beard and a big attitude—all tight, low slung pants, padded bra, and bleached blond hair. She couldn’t have been more than 21 or 22.
While the duo was surveying the layout of their tables, a waiter helping them arrange the seats, she turned away from my table and I saw the result of what had to have been a monument to her bad decision-making. Across her back, in giant letters and a rainbow of colors, she had “PASSION” tattooed just above her butt. I tried to suppress a giggle, but a guffaw and an “ohmygod” slipped past my lips.
Now, far be if from me to be overly critical of someone else’s tattoos. I have two Chinese symbols inked on my body that I have to trust by faith don’t stand for “This Guy is Such a Jerk” or “Gay Prostitute for Hire.” That’s a big leap when you stop to think about it.
She, on the other hand, leapt knowingly into a tattoo that might as well have said, “Hi, I’m a Porn Star,” or, ”Lap Dance Just Twenty Bucks.” And, honestly, looking at her and her boyfriend, the idea that she might have taken that career path did cross my mind. Even if she were a stripper, though, you’d have to think that somewhere in her brain she might have found herself wondering just how long that job choice might last—you don’t see too many strippers in their mid-thirties—and the ones that last longer than that don’t usually dance in the more reputable joints.
Stripper chic might look good at 21, but it fades in attraction more quickly than some people seem to imagine.
Like I said: bad decision-making.
Update: Just click through. Trust me.
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Everytime I see a woman’s tattoo in that location now, I giggle also and always think of the line from Wedding Crashers about how it might as well be a bulls-eye.
See, this is why, as tempting as a tattoo might be (and it would be small and not seen by anyone but moi), I know that one day I will be even older than I am now, more wrinkly, saggy, far whiter, and well, it just won’t look the same, know what I mean?
All you people with tattoos will live to regret them. ‘Sides, you’ll not be able to be buried in a Jewish cemetery.
Don, Wedding Crashers was a movie brimming with wisdom (and a few ‘tuitous nude shots, too). Wisdom, I tell you.
Rae, my wrinkly, saggy tattoos on palid flesh will still be cool when I’m 97. Chicks will still dig me.
Patrick, the thing that is most likely to keep me out of a Jewish cemetary is my complete lack of Jewishness.
If you want to find out what your Asian tatoos really mean, you can send photos to this blogger. There’s some really funny (and really sad) stuff there.
Yeah I bet you were looking at the butt FIRST… the tattoo is just an extra
Shhhh! The g-phrase might be reading this.
Cutter, thanks. If I were to be completely honest, I’d have to admit that I ran that tattoo on my wrist past a girl who works for one of my clients. I didn’t tell her what it meant, and, luckily, it actually came up what I expected. I can’t tell you how relieved I was.
She was in no position to take a look at the ink on my thigh, though. Lucky her.
That, Z, will be because of your tantalizing 97 year-old mind, your deeply ingrained sense of hospitality and civility, and that you will probably still have all of your teeth. I don’t know what your retirement situation is, or I’d mention that one, too.
The sagging, plaid flesh will simply blend. :D
P.S. I’m not Jewish or Catholic so I guess I will have to be thrown into a mass grave, the untattooed with the tattooed, heathens all.
Are you serious about that though - Jews aren’t allowed to be tattooed?
I can’t answer this one.
I can say that for Baptists, it is severely discouraged in many churches since it is desecrating the temple of God (namely, the body).
I was going to say, that would be a real bummer for those Jews who survived the Holocaust. After being subjected to those terrible conditions, and tattooed on the arm by Nazi murderers, to survive and be told by some sanctilious Rabbi in Israel, “oops, sorry, no admittance for the tattooed”.
That’s actually a really good question. Okay, someone out there has to be able to enlighten us on this…
Levitical Law forbids tattooing. Something about slaves and animals being marked with tatttos and branding. I also think it is conencted to certain pagan practices that the Israelites were forbidden to emulate. They were signs of belonging to a different god, but I’m thinking that some of the markings were given during pagan rituals.
In Leviticus 19:28 there is a condemnation of tattoos – “. . . cuttings in your flesh. . . nor print any marks upon you.”
You shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print any marks upon you: I am the LORD. - Leviticus 19:28
The Old Law forbids piercings as well (You’re doubly screwed.)
I was going to say, that would be a real bummer for those Jews who survived the Holocaust.
Maybe it was deliberate. Sort of like burying a Muslim wrapped in pig skin. However, I don’t think it was the reason they did it. There is likely a sort of theological “loop hole” by which those tatooed against their will are not penalized, etc.
This is why we invite Patrick to all the cool parties.
Parties? What parties?
Ok interesting stuff.
I have a Jewish friend and strictly speaking, so he tells me, Jews don’t believe there is an afterlife. I.e., no heaven, or hell for that matter. So why the elaborate burial rituals if this is the case? Preparations for… what? Sorry if this is off-topic
I can say that for Baptists, it is severely discouraged in many churches since it is desecrating the temple of God (namely, the body).
Whereas, in Alabama, being first in line at the Old Country Buffet to eat country-fried steak, mac & cheese, mashed potatoes, fried okra, and such, all in pursuit of becoming a small planetoid, is a-ok with Baptists. They’re not so much descrating the temple as stretching it.
LOL! LOL! and this:
“They’re not so much desecrating the temple as stretching it” is why we also invite Andy to all the cool parties.
Andy, that was the funniest freakin’ comment in a long damn time.
Beautiful. And maybe a little too true.