Under My Skin

"I've got you under my skin. I've got you deep in the heart of me. So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me. I've got you under my skin." Frank Sinatra from "Under My Skin

When the nurse came in to feed me the gel caps of bliss I couldn't help but notice that her left bicep was wrapped in cellophane, the international sign for "I just got a new tattoo." It would shock no one that the nurse was inked up heavier than an 80's hair band bass player. Her new piece looked, if my trippin' eyes didn't deceive me, like her. She got a tattoo of herself, in full nursing regalia. It was a work of art that I was sure she would one day come to regret, like a tramp stamp on a college sophomore.

Tattoos are stories. At least that's how I have looked at them since the first day I walked into an inkslingers studio. See, in my youth, like everyone else, I thought that tattoos were for bikers and sailors. Yeah sure Popeye had anchors inked on his massive, making Judi hot, forearms, but he was a sailor. Bikers, well they weren't in SuperMoms friend set, so they too were looked on with undeserving scorn. Yet, I was no sailor, nor Hell's Angels member, but at 18 I found myself one sleepy day, sitting in my ink man's chair while I watched an old black and white episode of the Andy Griffith Show, getting my first piece. SuperMom was unthrilled to say the least, but she couldn't argue with the picture. I now have three, and like Lay's Potato Chips, I wanted more once I started.

The first piece, my virginity breaker, is located on my right shoulder. It is a facial portrait of Marilyn Monroe. Growing up, and still to this very day, I have found Ms. Monroe to be the epitome of Hollywood. She strove for acceptance at every turn only to be seen as nothing more than a sex symbol, boy can I relate. But seriously, watch the movie "Bus Stop". It's one of the greatest performances I've ever seen. So getting Marilyn symbolized to me my desire for a career in LaLaLand, in my belief that the life I desire is attainable, and that dreams sometimes come true. That's what she's there to remind me.

Tattoo number two is one that no one believes I have until I prove it. On my left shoulder blade, on my upper back, there is a colorful rendition of the Animaniacs Logo. The Warner Bros crest, banner across it that reads "Animaniacs" and all three: Yacko, Wacko and Dot. Was it my favorite cartoon? No. That would be Scooby Doo. But as I was setting out from California for my Minnesota adventure, not knowing if I would return, I was leaving behind two of my best friends, Wayne and Kelly. Together the three of us were like the cartoon trio, with just as much singing and shenanigans. It's there to remind me of the friends that one often leaves behind, but never forgets. It marks a time in my life. As does my latest ink.

Under Marilyn in bold thick font are the letters "WWTSD". They are there to remind me of another group of friends, another time I would never want to forget. At a small apartment in Orange, California a tribe of friends with nicknames like Newman, The D, Buddy, Smitty, Atomic, Vash, The Boy, Big Mike, and the unnicknamed Chey would meet in total or lesser numbers each Sunday to watch The Sopranos. We cooked Italian food, we theorised, and we had more fun that should be possible. The tattoo is there to remind me, the letters stand for "What Would Tony Soprano Do." Gotta love a guy with a fictional mobster as a spiritual leader.

Do you have tattoos? What's the story? Do you want one? Why? Totally against them? Fascist?

Dixie Cup of Love: Shawn, the slinger who inked my Animaniacs.