It’s funny how some blog posts are born. This one was originally conceived after a night of sampling 3 different types of whiskey, killing galactic invaders with my bros and then watching some piss-your-pants funny stand up comedy. So as I came stumbling through the door in the wee hours of the morning of course I thought it was a brilliant idea to jot down what was in my head at the time. I know what you’re thinking. It would make SO much sense to write about alcohol, LAN games or funny ass comedians right? Certainly not! Ian’s brain doesn’t work like that. My mind is like an episode of Family Guy wrapped in Seinfeld with an Adventure Time sugary coating on top and a nuggety center of South Park. I never know where my writing will take me. Sometimes it stays on track. Sometimes I drive it right off the fucking cliff. Anyway as I sat there doing my best Nick Nolte impression and scarfing down homemade pizza bombs I began to write. About what you ask?
Yes ladies and gentlemen of the jury. I said tattoos.
Saw that one coming a mile away, eh?
In all honesty I’ve been wanting to write something about tattoos for a very long time. Just never got around to fleshing it out. That all changed when my spastic flatulent brain decided to explode a bunch of words on my computer. After sipping some Breakfast Blend Starbucks coffee and rocking out to (ironically) Shame in You by Alice in Chains I managed to sort through the dyslexia and salvage an actual post.
A big topic of discussion in our household tends to circle around ink. A lot of people automatically assume that because I have such an eccentric personality and have the ability to draw some freaky shit that I have tattoos or at the very least have entertained the possibility of getting some. No. I do not have any tattoos. I have scars. That’s pretty much all the body art I’m rocking. I’ve thought about designing something wicked to slap on my skin but it’s never really gone much further than that. I’m more interested in the design rather than having that design on me. Regardless if I ever do end up getting something I’m the “go big or go home” type of person. It’ll be one of those awe-inspiring pieces of artwork that people will be like “woah” when they see it. Until the vision hits me though, it’ll remain just a fleeting thought in the back of my head.
I’ve done a lot of pieces for people over the years. Like I said, I’m a freaky fantasy graphic artist so naturally people come to me with tattoo ideas. I dig drawing tattoos. They always want something unique and that’s my trademark. Course my services come with the disclaimer that my dictionary doesn’t contain the word simple. You ask me to draw something to put on your body you’d damn well better be ready to feel some pain. Prime example, a little something I did for my buddy Nik.
Several months ago my wife got a lip ring. Stop it you dirty freaks, not that kind of lip ring. Her mouth. She’s no stranger to piercings. Her ears look like they were shot up with a micro Tommy Gun. She has more earrings than I can count. She also has a nose piercing as well so when I heard she got a lip ring it really wasn’t that much of a shock. I asked her what was her motivation was and she said something along the lines of “I just wanted to do it”.
Now she wants to get a tattoo.
For the record, I really don’t care what another person does with their body. Anyone who tries to contest a person’s right to do whatever they want to their body is simply a douche. I can’t stand people who criticize or judge someone based on their body art. It’s what they want, it’s their body so piss off and mind your own business. Despite all the material possessions one may claim to have in life, the truth is your body is the only thing that is absolutely your own. You have the right to do whatever the hell you want to it.
So what’s my beef with tattoos?
I think my perceived dislike is a gross misconception. I don’t hate tattoos. I just dislike them on women. That’s just my personal preference. I don’t think any less of ladies with body art. I just find chicks more attractive without them. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. I am in awe of the female body. It’s a work of art. It’s something that’s as close to perfection as you can get. It doesn’t matter if you’re short or tall, plump or skinny, shredded or curvy – the female form is simply remarkable. It always slays me when ladies bitch and moan about their bodies. You have no idea how good ya’ll got it going on. You were built to look good. Dudes? We’re just the Jeeps of the human race. Pure functionality and no form. I see tattoos on women as defiling a work of art. I wouldn’t go up to The Burial of St. Lucy draw a butterfly on it.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not criticizing anyone who gets tattoos. I think tattoo art is probably the most captivating form of artwork out there. The amount of skill and detail tattoo artists employ is mindboggling. I envy their talent. I also absolutely understand that getting inked (for most people) isn’t a spontaneous thing. There is thought, planning and sentimental value to each piece. If you feel so deeply about something that you’ll put it on your body that’s deep. How can a person not respect that on so many levels?
What can I say?
I like women.
I like women’s bodies.
I don’t think there’s anything a lady can do to her body to improve upon it. Sure you can work out, put makeup, get all dolled up and what not but in my mind’s eye I dig chicks for the hands they were dealt. Like it or not. An opinion is just that.