I have 20 tattoos, only 1/3 of which are available to the casual observer...
And threeeeee bad impulse purchases that need covering-up COME-FUCKING-PLETELY.

My favorites are my first, my biggest, and my last.

And I'm 5 years behind on the memorial ankle tat (to go with the memorial ankle tats --- well, properly, CANKLE tats... *sigh* for my late Nannie & Papa, maternal grandparents) for my late nephew, because I'm ALWAYS FUCKING BROKE.

Yeah, I know, we're ALL always fucking broke, but I'm also being evicted for the first time in my bloody-clusterfucked fucking life, so top THAT, smartasses.

And yes, other than the 3 fucktardia pieces of scratcher SHITE, I'm damned proud of the rest, especially the ones that hurt badly enough to justify my punching the motherfuckers in the throat. My Judy Parker mermaid is the sexiest tattoo I've ever seen, so there. And I've seen one HELLUVA lot of tattoos. And no, not whilst doing the entire 14th Fleet or the entire Marine Corps, thank yew.
(AnntichristSCoulter, Fri 16 Apr 2010, 6:47, 1 reply, 16 years ago)

enough to HAVE justified punching the motherfuckers in the throat...
But since they were holding a rapidly-vibrating 5-sharpy-pointy-needle pack inserted into the top 2 layers of my skin, somehow, for some unknown reason, I did restrain myself from a cold-cock punch that would undoubtedly have been extremely satisfying.
(AnntichristSCoulter, Fri 16 Apr 2010, 8:26, Reply)