A year or so ago, I gave quasi-serious thought to getting a tattoo. At the time I was 33, and as nerdy as ever. A few of the females that I supervised at work at the time consistently, and without the slightest hint of faltering in their advice, consistently discouraged me from adorning myself with “The Devil’s Ink”. OK, so they didn’t use those exact words, and actually were not opposed to tattoos to my knowledge, however dissuaded me from getting one by gently and lovingly stating “you’re not a tattoo guy”. I acknowledge that tattoos on males typically express some level of Barney Badassness, and I would be described by most as a Gary Good Guy. I realized that they were right, and never did get a tattoo, but did not know until today how thankful I should be to those wonderful women who gave me such sage-like advice.
I was in the checkout line at a local convenience store, and when it came my turn to pay, I came face-to-face with a 45 year-old gentleman that bore a striking resemblance to Ward Cleaver,. This cashier could not have been more straight-laced, and even had the argyle cardigan sweater, neatly pressed slacks and penny loafers to prove it. As he was ringing up my purchase and I was dwelling on why an individual who was working at a convenience store would be so immaculately dressed, I noticed a miniscule shimmer coming from the left side of his head. Hello? What was that? A closer look, and with what would immediately evolve into a much too obvious disbelieving stare with my mouth agape, revealed a small diamond stud earring in Joe Cool’s dangling lobe. OK, sir, this is totally not you, and it is not 1985. Even if this guy fancied himself a modern day John Bender of Breakfast Club, there was no Claire Standish in sight, and this was just plain wrong, if not downright creepy.
During my drive home, while trying to shake the all-consuming image in my head of Mr. Rogers meets George Michaels (pre-moment of indiscretion in a public bathroom), I had another experience of “Square Peg Round Hole” when I witnessed a female, who had to be pushing sixty-five, wearing her saucy little sweat pants with the can’t-be-missed “JUICY” lettering across her ample derriere. The size of this lady’s backside was not the issue, but it just didn’t seem write for someone to be wearing their granddaughter’s clothes. When I see someone of an age that might be wearing depends, it is ironic, and more disturbing than anything I can presently conjure in my head, that they would chose to wear clothing with the word “juicy” on it. It was at that moment that I had an epiphany about the brilliance of the female council at work, and just how right they had been about certain things just not “fitting” some people. Thank you so much to those ladies, you know who you are.
http://www.weirdcoolphotos.com/2007/06/top-15-best-nerd-tattoos.html
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