Sitting in the car, waiting at a light, trying to entertain myself as I wander about the city doing my daily business.
Nothing like the randomization of thoughts to fill the day.
I've never gotten a tattoo because I can't think of anything that I'd want to view emblazoned across my saggy wrinkled hide when I hit some grand old age. Every rose wilts, especially when its attached to your tit. Gravity makes any fine epidermal artwork a sad comentary on the days when you thought you were interesting...or at least trying very hard to be interesting.
So what to do about it?
Why not go for something that creates a deeper impact as it ages...a bowl of fruit? An expiration date? A portrait of Dorian Grey?
You could get WWJD tattooed across you ass. Poor Bobby...A slow lazy bit of foreplay ends in a moment of complete and utter mental breakdown as the sweet, horney boy slips you out of your low rise bikinis, "'What would Jesus'...oh god..." And then a whimper escapes his lips as he tries to decide if his lord and saviour would tap that ass.
Just what would Jesus do?
I don't know what he'd do...but I know my somebody is probably thinking very un-christian thoughts about me for that bit of nonsense.

So I says to my son, "Shea, wanna go to the craft store?"
And the three year old replies, "Crabstore! Crabstore!"
Let me tell you, when we walked into that store, that was one disappointed kid.