Bug-Bug-Bugged
Something has really been bugging me for a while, and (along with what vaginal tightening entails, because ugghh, I just saw an ad for it on TV and it does not look pretty…) it’s this: what is it with people thinking that those who choose to get tattoos are thugs and hussies and madmen / women?
What a load of rubbish!
Case in point is this:
Every day for the last two years I have walked past the same tattoo parlour on my way to work. The man who owns it is Duke. Duke is eighteen stone, has a beard, and is pretty scary if he frowns. But the man wouldn’t harm a fly. I know this because once I went in to his shop to say hello and the following interaction ensued:
“Duke–what are you doing?”
A fly was buzzing around near his head and he appeared–yes–to be talking to it as if it were a person.
“Trying to get it to go away!” said Duke.
“Then swat it,” said I. “It’s easy.”
Duke looked at me as if I had just told him his nose was falling off.
“Swat it?”
I nodded.
“I can’t do that,” he said, finally. “Jeez, what, do you think I’m a cold bloodied killer?”
See what I mean?
Now, I know that that doesn’t mean that there aren’t some people out there with tattoos who are nasty pieces of work. But really, I don’t think that’s the norm. Treat people with tattoos the same as normal people, please!