Extremely Tattooed (And Happy), aka Tattoos and Parenting, aka Don't Feed the Trolls

Have you heard about this new facebook page that popped up that preaches that having tattoos makes you a bad parent?

Oh, you KNOW I have an opinion on that one.

I seriously had fun with this vlog post today!! Share it around if you know others who agree, like and subscribe to The Inklings of Life channel on Youtube.

Oh, and don't feed the trolls. Yeah, it'll all make sense once you watch the video...

Enjoy! ;)

O

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Story Time Sunday- The Apology Pizza

I worked at a tattoo shop in South Carolina for 3 years. To this day, I'm always asked about the most difficult customer I ever had. That, dear readers, would be the story of the Apology Pizza.

This kid (and when I say "kid," he was like 21 or 22- that was young to me) worked with Hubby. He was that kid that, when he walked into a room, just joined into a conversation like he'd been there the whole time, making things extremely awkward. So, people in Hubby's shop generally steered clear of him. When he (over)heard that I was a tattoo artist, he immediately came in to see me, to have his tattoo cherry popped.

He had this idea for this huge back piece. It was to be a fight between good and evil on the two sides of his back, and straight down his spine would be 9 kanji symbols (the Asian characters) that represented the 9 levels of hell from Dante's Inferno.

Great idea. Amazing concept. I was excited.

Until the day came for his first session. Because he'd never had a tattoo done before, and was a little short on money, he wanted to just start with the first symbol and last symbol- that was it. The first symbol was placed right below his neck and the last symbol in the "tramp stamp" position of the lower back. I put him in the standard "tramp stamp" tattooing position, straddling a seat backwards, and started the tattoo.

He literally jumped out of the chair when the needle touched his skin. Not just moved a little- he lept up and over the back of the seat he was straddling. Up. And. Over.

I told him he couldn't be doing that shit. I explained to him how he needed to sit really still, and I was good at

$40 Tribal, Tasteless Color Tattoos, and Comments Calling Me an Elitist, Spoiled A-Hole (A 'Letters to Tatted Mom' Segment)

Every now and then, a negative comment or email comes along that I need to reply to.

Today is one of those days.

A few days ago, I had an anonymous comment left on my post 10 Things You Should NOT Do When Going to Get a Tattoo. With its incorrect grammar, spelling errors and disrespectful tone, I moved it to my spam folder and went on with my morning. It remained in the back of my head, and after talking to Hubby and a few friends about it, I decided it was time for another Letters to Tatted Mom segment.

So, without further ado, this will be a longer post, but completely worth it when you get to my reply to this guy below. First is his comment to me, unedited and in all its glory, and below that is my reply to him. I hope this guy ventures back onto the site to read my reply to him... seriously.

[Dear Tatted Mom]

LOL..sounds like a typical snooty, spoiled, a-hole w/ no idea how business works or how to run one--i'm guessing you don't own the shop.

i agree w/the no brainer logistical tips here, but half of the stuff here is naive & just plain elitist garbage.

have you ever thought of the fact that the $40 guy's location just might be bad? or that he's trying an

This Little Piggy Went... The Hell Away From Me Before I Cut it Off

Okay, Inklingers, every once in a while I have to switch things up a little. Usually I write about parenting issues, or funny stories about something my kids did. Today's post is all about me... and my weird anti-fetish. It's time I get this out... seriously.

I was perusing facebook last night and a picture popped up in my news feed that almost made me vomit. I can't believe that I'm about to repost this picture, especially on my blog, but I really do need to face this, and what better way to do it than on the internet, with tons of witnesses, on a public blog, right? So here it goes....

The picture....

Picture courtesy of Theyfailed.com

Oh good grief I can't believe this is on my blog.

Many of y'all see how a person turned a small foot deformity into a cute joke. 

I see horror... on so many levels. 

I have an anti-fetish. I'm not sure if that term even exists, but that's what I have. It's an anti-fetish about feet. I can't stand them. Feet are horrible. They are ugly, gross, scary, and disgusting. That's all feet, mind you. I don't discriminate between men and women's feet, don't care what color your skin is, or how old you are... 

Except for babies. Babies' feet are cute. I will kiss all over a baby's feet until they start walking on them. Then, their feet instantly turn into these warped things created by the devil.

I know why I have this horrible anti-fetish about feet. No, I don't have a horror story from when I was a child of my foot getting caught in railroad tracks while the train was coming or anything like that. That would make my explanation a hell of a lot more understanding then what I'm about to say now...

I hate feet because they don't make sense. Yeah, you read that right. Feet, in my opinion, defy all laws of nature, and because of this, they weird me out worse than anything else in this world. To me, they are freaks of nature like snakes. Snakes have no legs and yet they move- not natural. Feet are, at the most, about 12 inches long, 6 inches wide, and can hold upright a 7 foot tall person, perfectly balanced and they don't fall on their face?

Get the fuck out of town. Seriously. Nothing about feet makes sense. There should be no way on this green Earth that 2 things as small as feet can even uphold a huge body, much less make it walk around. It's

10 Things You Should Not Do When Going to Get a Tattoo

This *might* be me tattooing; or, it
might be some gorgeous random
female tattoo artist with bright red
hair that I found after googling
'awesomeness'. (It's me.)

During the day, I play a tattoo artist on TV. Okay, I really am a tattoo artist (not to be confused with my night job of a ninja assassin), and I love my job. There are certain things about my job that seriously make me want to head home and crawl back into bed, though. And, it's not just me; I've talked to the guys at the shop- they have the same pet peeves.

So, I'm going to help y'all out and give you the hook up from an insider source... me.


10 Things You Should Not Do When Going to Get a Tattoo

1. Be Drunk or on Pills. Should go without saying, but you wouldn't believe the number of people who do it. And we've heard everything. 'It's just pain pills to help because a tattoo hurts so much,' or 'I'm sober, I swear, I just had a shot to take the edge off of getting this tattoo.' If you don't want your tattoo artist drunk or on pills, then we don't want our customers drunk or on pills. And, while yes, you do bleed slightly more when drunk, the real reason we won't tattoo you while you are intoxicated is because drunk people don't sit still. And they are loud. And annoying. And have a tendency to not remember things in the morning... like going to a tattoo shop and getting Tweety Bird on your ass. We don't want to put up with that crap.

Peace, Love and Two Tattoos (Guest Post)

(Today's post was written by Brooke over at Daily Dose of Dahl. She's an amazing woman with a blog I've been addicted to since I first stumbled upon it. I want to thank her so much for helping me out during some *fun* rollercoaster times in life.)





When Morgan asked me to guest post for her, after I finished beaming and immediately replying hell to the yeah I’ll do it, I started to try and figure out what I’m going to write about. Kids? My general goofiness? My slightly alarming but often hilarious dating history? My ex husband? Ooooooh, the possibilities.

I only have two tattoos. Both of them on are on my back, right around my shoulder area, and one on each side. I worked in banking for a long time, and I wanted ink that I could hide or show at will. At the time I got my first tattoo, I was married to my first husband. Zippy was a nice enough guy, big hearted and a lot of fun. He was a great boyfriend. Unfortunately he was a lousy husband. Everyone but the two of us knew the marriage was doomed, and honestly? I think we knew this too, even if neither of us would admit it. Sometimes you make really bad decisions for what you think are the right reasons. Or to prove that you are right and everyone else on the planet is wrong. That never works out so well for me. Universe: 459, Me: 2. Not even close. Sigh.

You Asked, I Tell....

"The Tattoo is the Mark of the Soul. 
It can act as a window 
Through which we can see inside, 
Or it can be a shield to protect us from those 
Who cannot see past the surface..."  ~Anonymous

With a pen name of Tatted Mom, I get asked about my tattoos a lot. How many do I have, which mean the most to me, what was my first, what is my next, why did I decide to start getting tattoos? So I figured, you all ask, I'll tell.

I was 18 when I got my first tattoo, and wanted one because, well, I was 18 and could get one, and I loved art. I told my mom and dad I was going shopping and drove 45 minutes to a trusted tattoo shop, and got a very small (I only had $50 on me) moon on my lower back. I can remember taking my future brother in law with me (soon to be hubby was in basic training at the time), and I sat there, nervous as hell, squeezing my brother in law's hands, waiting for the first touch of the needle. As soon as the tattoo artist started, I looked behind me, said, 'Is that it?' loosened up my grip, and relaxed.

An addiction was born.