The morning of my second day in Tulsa (I’m home now – you figured that out, right?) was hypothetically spent leaving teeny little notes all around Carynn and Jer’s apartamento.
Luckily (for her), Carynn took a short work day and was back before I could break anything (anything else? I’m sure I left some sort of damage in my wake and she
is too nice to tell me hasn’t figured it out yet herself).
And then we got tattoos.
Have you ever looked through the binders of designs at your local tattoo parlor? I encourage you to do so. No, wait: before you go I want you to think up the five most bizarre, obscure, just-plain-fucking-weird things/people/characters your little brain will allow. Dino from The Flintstones? Or perhaps Dino from The Flintstones sipping from a little dino-flask, holding up a little dino-middle finger?*
Have you got your five ideas? Do you think you’re being original? Think again, Ace. Some
weirdo creative type has already thought it up, printed it out, and stuffed it into a greasy sheet-protector for your perusing pleasure. Seriously: pages of Dennis the Menace? Really, people? Really?
After our ink-adventure we stopped by the liquor store (I know some folks do this in reverse order, but there’s always next time) to pick out some pre-mixed margaritas (FYI: tattoos + margaritas = tradition) to go with some tasty soup Carynn planned on whipping up for din-din.
Sidebar: Have you ever tasted fire? Have you ever tasted fire in soup form?
Oh, nononononononono… that’s not related at all to the DELICIOUS meal she so lovingly prepared for us. I swear (after I regained feeling in my tongue and mouth-regions) it was good.
It’s just how I imagine it would feel to give Satan hisself a good lick-down.
But no, seriously: it was a good day.
*I actually didn’t see this one, but I’m sure my boy Psycho would have drawn it up for me.