Twisted's Blog - 2old2play

Mondays.

So. Mondays have a crap reputation.

I have to say it earned it last monday.

Started off when my daughter woke up feeling sick so we kept her home from daycare. I spend mornings with my 11 month old son while my wife sees patients and my daughter is normally in daycare. We then switch off where she picks up my daughter and then watches the two of them while I do the labwork and often do either tattoos or prep work until about 8:00PM then usually more labwork until anywhere until 9-12:00.

I first run over to my wifes office and check the lab to make sure everything was done for the day. I checked everything over and everything seemed ship shape. I didnt even notice the one case that had to be done for 10:30. I call it Mustard Blindness. When you stand in front of the fridge for 5 minutes looking for the mustard which is front and center. You can't friggin miss it, but you do. You often don't see it until your wife calls you an idiot and points it out to you.

So because of this oversight, my wife has to tell the man who came in to pick up his teeth (he traveled like 45 minutes to make this appointment BTW) that her husband/lab tech is a complete idiot who will not be getting any sex for a least 3 weeks.

I'm not sure thats what she actually said to him, but it was pretty clear to me in her later briefing.

So now home with the kids, Im watching both of them when my 11 month old TwistedJr bites me on the titty.

Right on the one with the piercing. I have a very large gauge ring in there and he proceeded to attack it like a Pit Bull on a french fry.

I had to pry the giggling little fiend off with the corner of an Etch-a-Sketch.

Later that morning I was talking to a client needing a memorial portrait of her two kids with their late father-in-law.

She sent me three pics of the kids to choose from. Apparently I chose two pictures of the same kid. They didn't look the same to me.

Start over. Gah.

Another woman comes unannounced to my door with an envelope of photographs. She pulls them out and asks if I can draw a picture of her old house the way it used to be before the renovations. She hands me a bunch of pictures of a house from several angles and distances. I assume it was the same house because in every photo it was 75% surrounded by trees. DENSE trees.

I said; "Um.. this is really just gonna be a picture of trees with one corner and part of a roof."

She said; "Can you just not draw the trees?"

Me ;"...................."

She said; "Like, can you not just use your imagination?"

I said; "Imagination? Sure. But I'm not sure if I'll put the gun turrets in the right place or not."

I was pretty much dumfounded.

I shouldve just handed her a piece of black Bristol board and said; "Here! Night at the Old House! Just use your fucking imagination!"

Dumbass.

Ive got a girl who wants a tattoo ASAP who keeps changing her design ideas on me. First she wants stars, then she wants fairies, then she wants script, then she wants to change the phrasing. I should just keep nodding and just tattoo "ASSHAT" on the back of her neck. She'd never know. I'm pretty sure shes too stupid to work a mirror.

Later that evening I head over to the lab to finish up some work. Thats when I discover that I need a specific kind of clasp for the case.

A kind of clasp I had apparently forgotten to order.

Between getting the other stuff done I tore through the place like a fat kid on a bunt cake looking for an extra clasp, anywhere. No such luck.

So I got home around 11:30 that night and had to tell my wife I screwed up again.

So it seems not only am I not getting sex for a good long while, shes even considering taking back all the sex shes ever given me.

Oh, almost forgot. My 11 month old also broke one of our best china dishes.

On mondays when it rains it not only pours, it breaks out in little arseholes and shits all over the place.

Anyway, heres a tattoo I did on our new lab tech. Yes the one who bit me (see earlier blog entry con. Cannibal Women and Ear Hair).

I also did a blue kanji below her hairline. Yup. That hairline.

Oh, and her kids names are in the lower wings.

[4 Comments]

Wow. Been awhile.

So, I cant remember when my last blog entry was.

I suppose I could just scroll down and look at the date but who really has time for that.

SInce Ive been on last Ive been working like mad. People wanting tattoos. People wanting drawings. Its going pretty good.

Just the other day I had a girl come in for a Tinkerbell tattoo.

Tinkerbell the fairy. Not Tinkerbell the rodent lapdog.

Anyway, she was notable not just for being really fricking cute, but for nearly passing out, not once, not twice, but three times.

Ive never had three close calls in one tattoo before. She kept wanting to stop to go into the bathroom and splash some water on her face and hug the toilet for a minute. She would go and come back just a little greyer.

I finally suggested I throw a quick preliminary outline down and then have her in some other day when she was feeling better.

She thought it was a pretty good idea.

I also did a foot tattoo for a girl whos normally the sweetest thing you could ever meet.

I told her foot tattoos were pretty painful so she had a couple of shots before she came over. She asked if that was okay I told I was sloshed myself so I figured it was only fair.

Once we got started she was "Wow that effen hurts." Halfway through she was an encyclopedia of the profane.

She was swearing a blue streak, calling me every name in the book, cursing the needles, cursing her foot, I think she even attempted to bring down damnation on the entirety of mankind at one point.

In the end she loved her tattoo. Wasnt too happy with me personally for a day or two, but she loved the ink.

Im gonna wait for it to heal up before taking pics and putting em up.

Ive been wanting to do some charcoals to put up the studio, I have the original Tarot series up, but I wanted to do some portraits for advertising. I have a portrait of the Mrs in a local coffeeshop, the kids pics are in the wifes dental office, but I had nothing for the studio. The thing with commission portraits is Im usually in a time crunch so I have time to squeeze off a quick photo before sending it off and thats about it.

Well, I was on Facebook and I noticed a profile pic of a girl who is on a friends friend list.

I thought it would be perfect to draw from. I sent her a message telling her I would like her permission to draw her picture for advertising.

I think she thought I was some creepy Facebook stalker guy. With the help of our mutual friend I was able to convince her that I was a sincere creepy Facebook stalker guy.

Turns out shes the hottie that works at the bank down the street from me. Whenever I go to use the ATM I cant help but sneak a peek when shes working.

I am then usually asked to leave and stop licking the windows.

Apparently thats not acceptable behavior at the bank.

-or the mall, as I found out later.

Anywho, Im glad I was able to convince her I was harmless. I didnt want to freak her out too much (For the record, my profile pic on Facebook is the same pic of me in my 2o2p sig, so maybe she was intimidated by my boyish good looks).

So Im glad shes fine with it. I found she was starting to look a little distracted the other night. Well, as much as I could tell from the tree outside her bathroom window.

I finished it and messaged her saying it was done and if she wanted to see it I could swing by her house with it since I knew where she lived because I found her house on Googlemaps and also had her work schedule and knew which route she took to go home and when she was alone.

So fortunately the restraining order is limited due to the fact her workplace is just down the street. Theres no mention of not being able to set up a telescope on my own roof so everythings good.

Seriously though, shes a good sport for letting me draw her pic.

[6 Comments]

Connection between Laundry and Mental Illness.

Right now Im up to my eyeballs in life.

New studio, (pics to come soon) people banging on my door wanting ink done, people wanting drawings done (Those of you here with pending orders, Im working on them) and helping with neverending lab duties AND two small kids.

Now, Im pretty much a fully domesticated male. Lived on my own for a while so I can cook not too badly. I like to joke that I tried to make pancakes once but I couldnt get the batter out of the toaster. Ha ha.

Im fully capable of doing my own laundry. Let me emphasize OWN laundry.

I have discovered that unless you are equipped with a vagina, folding womens clothing is essentially impossible.

Like what the hell kind of alien technology is at work here?! Skorts? Tank tops with tit shelves? Do you even fold a bra?

Im 37, 38 in a few weeks, Ive had several long term relationships, more than a few short term, and I still can't work the goddamn clasp on a fricking bra. The only time I ever manged to get one off without help or by chewing is when I snapped a friends strap back in high school and it just came undone. That was it. Beginners luck followed by decades of frustrated confusion. I can't imagine the practice it takes for women to undo them behind their backs.

Then you get kids. Their stuff is just as mind-boggling. I have no idea what to do with a onesie. Its like clothing invented by Rubik.

You gotta solve the damn thing to fold it.

Tried using a different razor with my Headblade the other day. The Headblade includes an adaptor for Gillette Sensor.

Had an equipment malfunction resulting in my peeling my scalp like an orange. I was picking shreds of meat out of the blades.

Ever see how much scalp wounds bleed? Its like I butchered a cow in the shower. I almost just left it to freak out the Mrs, but I know better.

She wouldnt find that as funny as I would. Put police tape up and everything. Not worth a week of sleeping on the couch.

I went online that very night and ordered a buttload of the Headblade razors. No more experimenting thank-you-very-much.

Anyway, heres an ankle bracelet I did a while back. She called me the other day to tell me she was out at a rodeo and several people thought it was a real ankle bracelet.

Its either a compliment or proof excessive alcohol and repeated blows to the head will affect your vision.

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Quantum Theory of Superman.

I have a theory.

I dont think that Superman just zipped across space and landed here.

Think about it. According to physics, what he does is impossible.

Unless instead of simply coming from another planet, Supe comes from another dimension.

According to experiments such as the double slit experiment, which seems to suggest that all particles dont just inhabit one position in the universe, all particles inhabit ALL positions in the universe. Its simply a matter of observation which causes the probabilty field to collapse in our perception creating a single position.

One possible interpretation of this is that this means there is an infinite number of universes.

In one, you may be a famous tap dancer, instead of being born you were fabricated in a Jell-o mold. Paris Hilton could be a neurosurgeon instead of a brainless walking Fleshlight.

Google Fleshlight. You'll see the similarity.

In any case, the laws of physics may differ from universe to universe (yes, I know, this may apply more to the theory of a foam-like multiverse, but I find even with wonky physics the distances are prohibitive, so Im sticking to the sum over histories approach. Cuz its funner.

Anyhoo, in one of these universes comes Superman. Different quantum state can mean infinite density. Yup. Bulletproof.

Maybe he can fly due to his complete control over his relative position. Why not? If observation can cause a probabilty wave to collapse into a single particle, why cant his perception control his ultimate position? This could also allow for his near light speed AND strength.

His strength could be not strength as we know it, but his ability to force his position to overtake the position of almost any object regardless of mass.

Lifting cars would just be a matter of working his position underneath and up.

Xray vision, heat vision, chalk those up to just being a freak from another dimension.

This is what goes through my head when Im stuck on the can with nothing to read.

Heres another kitty. This ones fluffier.

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Ear Hair and Cannibal Women

I am disturbed.

I know, I know. "No shit. We've read your blog."

What I mean is Ive avoided most of the usual pitfalls of aging. Im still the same weight since high school (215lbs +/- 5lbs), pants went from a 32 to a 34, not too bad at 6'3", I guess. I found the cure for receding hairline and graying, just shave it off. Okay.

But ear hair?! What the hell? What evolutionary benefit is brought by ear hair? Am I supposed to stuff it back into the ear canal to dampen the racket made by my children or to get out of chores? Should I cultivate it? Grow it out? Use it as a comb over? Braid it?

I know that humans have strategic patches of fuzz partly to help in dispersing pheremones, but ear hair is just gross and pointless.

Its like a signal to women; "Old guy! Just move along!"

Ive been ripping it out with my fingers and occasionally burning it with a lighter. Both methods have their obvious drawbacks. Trimming just leaves unsightly ear stubble.

Anyway.

My lab tech bit me last night.

Right in the back of the neck.

I felt her come up behind me and before I knew it, all I felt was teeth.

I was like "WTF?!"

She said she always wanted to do that.

Ive never bitten anyone in a social situation before.

Its also not the first time its happened to me.

Aside from the usual bites during hanky panky (those are expected), Ive been bitten during quiet converstion in a college cafeteria, a restaurant, playing pinball in a bar, teaching karate and now at work.

They rarely draw blood but are always unexpected and remarkably out of context. They are usually located around the neck, arms and shoulders.

Im not doing anything out of the ordinary and I rarely wear chocolate.

But I think I have it figured out.

Women instinctively know a universal truth.

People are tasty.

Sometimes they just want a little nibble.

I worry though that if I dont react quickly enough they will continue the attack and all that will be left is a pile of bones and some faded workpants.

I also believe the problem may be compounded by fad dieting.

Anyway. I drew a cat. Heres a crappy photo from my crappy camera.

[10 Comments]

Family Doctor

So for the first time since childhood, I have a family doctor. My wife has been going to her for a few years and I had never met her.

The doctor, I mean. Im quite familiar with my wife.

Anyway, a while back I was entrusted with the responsibility of bringing my daughter to an appointment. Okay whatever.

So Im sitting in the examination room when in walks my daughters doctor.

A little bit of background first.

Besides having a weird nun fetish, I am especially partial to women of middle eastern descent.

Something about the long dark hair, mysterious dark eyes- I dont know. Has NOTHING to do with subservience. I swear.

So in walks Dr Feelgood. (Name changed to protect my ass).

Long dark hair tied in in a professional style, large deep brown almost-black eyes, and this sweet deceptively youthful looking face in a perpetual smile.

She was also wearing a comfortable loose top which I can only assume was an attempt to hide a genetic condition of hers. I believe the proper medical term is 'Ginormous Rack'. I'll be getting back to this. It has some bearing on my story.

So at that point I realized instantly I would try to book a new patient exam.

Now, another thing about myself, unlike most people born with the standard angel/devil conscience format, I have a neurological condition where instead of the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other, arguing for my soul is a logical miniature Leonard Nemoy versus a diabolical 7 foot tall William Shatner holding a phase cannon.

Wild Bill was screaming; "THINK...OF...THE...TESTICLE...EXAMS!!"

Leonard was pretty much drowned out by Captain Libido.

So yesterday Im sitting in the exam room, in she walks, the vision she was before and her face lights up; "Oh I remember you! Youre Paiges daddy! Im so glad you decided to see me!"

Gulp. 7 foot Shatner is dancing the Watusi right now. Pictures of weekly scrotal exams flash through my brain.

"What can I do for you?"

Leonard; "Don't mention testicles. You'll seem too needy"

I tell her that I needed some meds to treat my migraines and asked her if there was anything that would curb my frequent desire to punch stupid people in the groin.

She flashes the smile and says 'certainly' but she should start by asking a few routine questions first. This is where her genetic condition comes into play.

She apparently is trying to consciously maintain proper seated posture. She will catch herself starting to slouch, then suddenly sit up straight, shoulders back, chest thrust out.

This I found incredibly distracting. Seriously. You have no idea.

I used every bit of self discipline to keep my eyes at eye level.

Shatner is yelling "SHES LOOKING AT THE PAPER! SNEAK A PEEK MAN! YOU.. JUST.. GOT.. TO,.. MISTER!"

But I stood firm.

Well, I was sitting. Which was good. She couldnt tell how firm I was standing.

Which, after the rescent vasectomy, was starting to get uncomfortable.

Wild Bill; "YEAH! PLAY THE VASECTOMY CARD! GET HER TO CHECK THE STITCHES!!"

Me; "Yeah right! How would I explain Mr Happy poking her in the eye? Shut the fuck up!!"

So the rest of the questioning went on when Leonard decides to bring up a good point of the disadvantages of a hot doctor.

"Have you thought about possible future conditions? Things like embarrasing rashes?"

Good point.

"Boils in the crack of your ass?"

Oh, right.

"Inevitable prostate exams?"

Spocks right. Am I going to feel comfortable having a beautiful woman stick her finger in my ass?

I mean, without a few drinks and maybe dinner and a movie? I never thought of this. Would I really feel more comfortable with some old male doctor busting my rectal cherry? Where the hell was Nimoy when I was booking the appointment?

Thinking more about it, there are definite advantages to the hot woman doctor which outweigh the disadvantages.

-More likely to go for regular checkups.

-Any problems with testicles will probably be quickly recognized and addressed from frequent examinations.

-Smaller fingers mean more comfortable prostate checks.

-Ginormous rack.

Im thinking Im gonna take my chances with Dr Feelgood. ( I think she Libyan or something.)

Besides the possible embarrassing appointments, and Im sure my blood pressure and pulse readings will be consistently too high (my resting heart rate is typically mid to high 50s, when she took my pulse it was 95. I told her I ran to make my appointment).

So I have to book a follow up visit in 3-6 weeks. See if the anti-groin punching medication is working.

Also Im a little concerned. One nut is hanging a little lower than the other. I should have it checked out- just to be on the safe side.

Anyway. Portrait of a dog. First one. People happy. Gave me money. Me happy.

[6 Comments]

Perils of the Small Town Tattooist

So Ive shared this with a select few, but I feel compelled to warn people who are thinking of delving into the world of tattoos.

If you are married, it is a dangerous field to be in. A small percentage of women clients feel the need to tip the artist 'non-monetarily'.

Some become very insistent. Sometimes they have a kind of inarguable logic that is hard to deny.

This can be an issue when youre trying your best to be a good husband.

Im seriously thinking of looking into SaltPeter or chemical castration.

If my wife reads this, she will be looking into mechanical castration.

I just dont get it. I just spent an hour or two sticking needles in your ass. I'd think you'd want to punch me in the face. I'd actually prefer it to a proposition. It hurts less.

The extra peril is when youre in a small town.

They know where to find you.

They know where you live.

They know when you are bad or good.

Its like crossing Santa Claus with Amy Fisher.

Ive thought of having Tshirts made saying witticisms like 'SYPHILLUS' or 'GHONORREANS NEED LOVE TOO'. But it may be bad for business.

So for the ladies out there who feel the need to thank your tattooist, please, just slip him a twenty. Or punch him in the face.

He'll appreciate it.

Anyway, sketch of the day. Portrait of a kid from a photo taken at a hockey game.

As long as the detail in the photo is sharp, and theres good shadows you can usually squeeze a good portrait out of it.

For those getting bored of me posting people portraits, I have a few animal portraits I'll post soon. I just have to download em from my crappy little digicam.

[6 Comments]

Less Painful Entry

-and I dont mean better lubricated.

For the record, its been a couple of days since the 'Procedure' and things are doing much, much better.

Now for a desperately needed change of subject.

A friend and colleague (known across the world as GIJoeBob), introduced me to a grooming tool for the follically challenged called Headblade.

I have to admit, his enthusiasm made me suspect he was on their payroll. How could you re-engineer the classic razor?

I thought it was a novelty gimmick. It looked like the bastard child of a saftey razor and a Hot Wheels car.

Since it required ordering one, I never bothered. Stuck with the same good old reliable head scraping disposable Xtreme.

While at a local pharmacy picking up painkillers (see previous entry for details), I saw that they were now selling the Headblade off the shelves.

Even though Ive tried every fricking razor known to man and thought the Shick Xtreme with the flex head was the cats ass, I thought I'd take JoeBobs advice and give it a try.

Hell, the damn things got wheels. How cool is that?

After a few seconds to acquaint myself, I was in chromedome heaven.

Its like kittens licking my scalp. Even the TwistedMrs felt the difference.

If I had fully functioning 'equipment' at the time(see previous entry), she probably wouldve jumped me.

I'll never use another razor on my noggin ever again.

Hell, did I mention its got wheels? I spend the entire time shaving in the shower going "VRROOOOOMVROOOMM!RRRRRRRRRAARRRRRSCREEEECHH!!!"

I think thats why theyre threatening to pull my gym membership.

That and the 'PropellerMan' demonstration I did in the womens changeroom. Apparently thats among 'discouraged' activities.

Anyway, todays feature;

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Ow.

So for those of you who follow my blog regularly (yes, I mean you two, right there), you may have noticed a few days of inactivity on my part.

I believe I have a reasonable excuse. Two words that should never be placed together.

Scrotal.

Surgery.

Hear that? Thats the sound of hundreds of sympathetic male thighs slapping together.

Yes, I went and got fixed. The big 'V'. Shootin' blanks.

For those unexperienced in this, the procedure wasnt that bad, aside from three hours of the indignity in a paper gown and booties (men should never wear booties. Its so emasculating I felt I no longer required the procedure) I also had to wear a hair net even though Ive been shaving my head for 7 years.

I think its because they believe if they have to wear stupid little hats in the O.R., everybody does.

So I walk in to the O.R. and they strap me down on the crucifix....I mean table. Arms straight out. One arm goes the pressure cuff, the other the IV.

One nurse asks if I would like something to relax. "Since youre taking orders, I'll take a double rye and coke".

No dice. But she does say she has something else I may like and sticks it in the drip.

Meanwhile, another cute little nurse informs me she will be prepping me, which involves washing my balls.

I'm all for this part. Unfortunately the cocktail the first nurse gives me takes affect and the next thing I know Im in a different room.

WTF? Where am I? What happened? Wheres my hand job?

I ask if this is the recovery room and I am told yes. I can only assume theyre done.

I hazard a peek at my junk, and yep, still stained from whatever the little sweetie mustve rubbed on me is my poor abused nutsack, now sporting a fashionable cloth bandage. Which I immediately worry about the removal.

You know how they say the best way is with 'one quick jerk'?

Not a fucking chance in this case. If you excuse my french.

Mental picture of me chasing my detached testicles flashes through my mind.

I'll try to remove it after a gentle soaking in warm water thank-you-very-much.

Actually, after all was said and done, I felt great.

No pain. Ready to take on the world. Go for a jog. Chase nurses. Hell, I'll just go right back to work. Dont know what the big deal is about.

Nurse asks me how Im feeling. I, relieved its all over, cheerfully reply; "Great! Same time next week?" Im released, grab some Quiznos and head home.

Then the freezing wears off.

I used to kickbox for several years and teach self defense. I know what being kicked really hard in the balls feels like.

Much like I feel right now. Popping Tylenol 3s (with codeine!) like M&Ms with a bag of frozen Lima beans on my crotch (Ive never enjoyed Lima Beans as much as I do right now, BTW) I try to get comfortable and dodge my two kids, with their horrible grasping hands and terrifying flailing feet and knees.

After 24 hours I have my first shower and manage to remove the bandage with surprisingly little effort. THANK. GOD.

I cant express the dread I felt prior.

Whats gonna be under there? Am I gonna puke? Pass out? Sob like a beaten 9 year old?

I held it together.

But my healthy intact previously puncture-free ballsack was replaced by a bloated purple coin purse.

The tiny incision looked to me big enough I could smuggle heroin across the border in it.

I soon opted to forgo the Tylenol 3s (with codeine!) for TWO double scotches. Within 3 minutes of each other.

So now, much of the pain has passed. Still very tender. Still uncomfortable. Still feel cheated out of a professional nurse rubdown.

I wonder things like; Are they still anchored the same? They look like theyre hanging lower. Are they? Am I going to have reduced function? Am I going to start to want to knit doilies and watch 'Coronation Street'?

Im not afraid of the rumours of decreased sexual drive. I actually could use that.

Anyway. Its also why I missed clan night.

I also have to find another place to rest my controller.

The Rumble Feedback isnt as fun as I remember.

Anyway, one of my commissioned portraits;

[22 Comments]

Ambigrams

So I did a tattoo for the hospital chaplain and in the course of him showing it off I got a slew of new work in the form of paramedics. I got three clients in a row who were ambulance attendants from the same hospital.

This puts more pressure on me because if I screw up their ink, I better hope I dont get in an accident.

Fortunately theyve been happy with the work so far.

I actually get a lot of clients in some form of healthcare. Just a few weeks ago I had what I call officially, My Hottest Client Ever.

Shes a massage therapist who came in to get a faded butterfly tattoo recolored. It was an intricate piece and I of course wanted to do a good job.

So being the dirty old man that I am, I looked forward to her appointment.

She shows up in tight yoga pants and a little tank top. After I finish setting up she peels off the tank top.

When I came to, she was on the table waiting patiently. So I get to work.

Which, for those of you unfamiliar, involves prepping the area with surgical soap and rubbing with Vaseline.

All the while Im evaluating the tattoo, mentally matching the colors and deciding what needlegroups to use.

I get into professional mode, concentrating on not screwing up the intricate linework and keeping the colors pure.

About an hour later I was finished, she was happy and I realized a sad truth.

In all the effort I put into doing a good job, I completely forgot to enjoy myself.

Here I have this sweet little hottie, skin like lightly freckled marble, figure like she stepped out of a comic book, and I spent the hour treating her like a inanimate canvas.

WTF?! Did I go and turn gay or something?! Did I go and get old?

Here I am rubbing Vaseline on sugarcheeks here thinking "Hmmm, I should use a three round to keep the corners sharp".

GAAAAA! I like to think Im just so used to the process I just went into 'professional mode'.

Anyway. I stopped by her office awhile later to see how she was healing up and she was so happy she took me into her office and yanked off her shirt to show me.

When I came to, I realized I wasnt gay, just professionally focused.

I'd post a pic, but its a little blurry. Im gonna try to get her in for a reshoot.

So heres one of the ambulance attendants sporting an ambigram I designed and installed for him.

Its the names of his two boys, Alex and Noah.

Ive done a lot of these lately. A lot of people with two kids who only want one original tattoo. I find ambigrams, although a lot of work designwise, fit the requirements quite well.

I try to design them so they look at first glance to be abstract, but are legible when you know what youre looking at.

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Me little darlin'.

So heres my 3 yr old little TwistedMs.

Shes like a Halfling of destruction.

A midget of the Apocalypse.

The other day she asked me for a marker.

I held it out to her but before giving it I asked her;

"Will you use this marker for good or evil?"

She looked up and said "Evil!"

Thats my little darlin'!

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Self Portrait

A local skate shop wanted something funky so I did a self portrait.

I think it really shows my personality and brings out my eyes.

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Cover-up

Guy came to me with what was left of a Sailor Jerry style ship.

Nearly every bit of black just vanished. Never seen that before.

Ive seen the prison tattoos and the Kitchen Wizard home jobs where the black turns blue or purple, but the only hint of the old tattoo was the faint colorwork and a hint of the kids names, which I had to work around.

It was only like 10 years old too.

Before and After;

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Even more differenter.

Okay, Ive been posting my charcoals here pretty much everyday for like a week or so,

and I would like to thank everybody for the great input.

I just started doing them less than a year ago and have been undecided as to how much energy I should be putting into that venture.

As some of you know, Ive been a dental lab tech for like 15+ years now, and despite the ROCKIN' image that title portrays,

its really not all that fun.

No really. It isnt.

You may be thinking its all glitz and glamor but uh, no.

So about 3 years ago I started into tattoos.

Yes, a common vocative progression; bouncer, lab tech, tattoo artist.

I'm a walking cliche.

Anyhoo, just because Im running out of postable scans (still a few on my camera I havent loaded yet), I thought I might stick a few of my tattoo jobs up for shits and giggles.

This one here is actually my very first client. Like many aspiring tattoo artists I practiced on grapefruit, pigskin, unconscious winos and also myself.

This brave soul is a chaplain at the hospital. Hard core Buddhist, he told me the imagery he wanted

and left the design and installation to yours truly. Still a lot of work left to do, (more color, more coils, etc etc)

but you get the idea of where its going.

The blue/green Venom blob on his shoulder he had done somewhere else.

Heres a closeup of the four armed Buddhist Boogeyman;

[4 Comments]

Completely Different

Now for something completely different.

Today scribble is a charcoal of a house someone grew up in.

They gave me a photo the size of a postage stamp that looked like it was kept in their wallet for 50 years.

I really didnt want to do it, so I quoted a ridiculous price that they immediately agreed to.

So here we are with the pic, framed ready to go.

Not even a scan, just a digicam shot because of the hurry they wanted it done in.

Apparently the recipient (Im guessing Linda) was going away so this involved a few late nights.

If I never see another goddamn brick in my life, it'll be too soon.

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