So I'm Sayin' You Have A Chance

My husband hates tattoos.

Correction: My husband loathes tattoos.

So naturally, one day I left what was at the time our 1of1 with his godmother and scampered off to the tattoo parlor up the street from me, and walked out an hour later with a couple o' fish in the middle of my back. Because I'm a thoughtful and considerate wife.

And it only goes to say that a few years later, when we were officially done having kids because two was plenty for anyone, I'd leave a little early on my way to go see my kids in their Christmas play, at church, and stop at the other tattoo shop up the street and get a big ass arm band with my whole family tree on it. Because it's not like God's going to forgive me at this point anyway.

And just for the record, when you do shit like that, God smites thee and he smites thee hard. By fucking up your whole family tree tattoo with a shiny little new branch two weeks later. Which, ironically enough, turned out to be pretty fucking awesome, so suck on that, God.

But I still can't find anyone who'll add her or her godfather to it. Bygones.

And then, having been glared at and mumbled about under my husband's breath for a few years, I wised up and took the kids out to "run errands" one day and that is when they got the distinct pleasure of passing out when they saw the needle the lady pulled out to stick a hoop through my nose. But at least it wasn't a tattoo.

Turns out, he hates nose-rings even more than tattoos. Who'da thunk it?

A few weeks ago he gave me an extended sigh and a demonstrative eye roll when he asked, "You're getting another fucking tattoo in Chicago, aren't you?" And I told him I wasn't. And I'm not getting a tattoo at BlogHer; I'm getting three. So if you were ever thinking of asking me out, I'd wager that by the first week of August he'll have kicked me to the curb, and your window may just open.

Or he'll still love me just the way I am, and we'll live happily, and doodily, ever after.

Either way, since a whole mess of us have been talking about getting tattoos in Chicago, I made a few phone calls and I sent a few emails and I managed to pull together a little sumpin' sumpin' for those of us who like to tempt fate and there's a little something for the rest of you who would nevereverever or who aren't going to make it to BlogHer in July.

And due to the contract that comes with my ads, you've got to follow this link to my dumb review blog for the juicy details, which involve cheap booze and a whole mess of free stuff....