And now, some audience questions

Q: Um, holy cow. That's an flippin' awesome tattoo. I mean, seriously.
A: Thanks, but that's not a question.

Q: Where did you GET that thing?
A: Millennium Tattoo, in Fort Collins. It was totally clean, legit, safe, non intimidating and staffed by alterna-hipsters, which is always a nice bonus. Ryan did mine and she was fanTAStic.

Q: Where did you PUT that thing?
A: It's in the middle of my back - which means it passes the Yuppie Professional Dress Attire test plus avoids the whole Tramp Stamp issue. Win-win really.

Q: Does your mom know about this?
A: No. And I'd like it to stay that way, thanks.

Q: But...aren't you like 33 years old?
A: Yes, but....

Q: What, you afraid you'll get grounded or something?
A: Excuse me, have you MET my mom?

Q: I'm asking the questions here!
A: Siiiiigh.

Q: So evidently your mom didn't go with you. Who'd you go with for the tattoo?
A: My junior high co-horts Rena and Chrissy accompanied me. Nothing celebrates 20 years of friendship like a night of body modification.

Q: Did you have other images/ideas you thought about before ultimately deciding on the typewriter?
A: Yes, but they seem kind of embarrassing now in retrospect. I did really like the idea that Rena suggested in the waiting room at the tattoo studio of doing my first car (a '78 Chevette hatchback named Bessie that had pine green glitter paint), but I'll save that for another time maybe. The key was to get something I wouldn't regret 20 minutes later and more importantly 20 years later. The typewriter and the flowers are both very personal and meaningful to me - and the combination turned out much prettier than I could have imagined.

Q: I think I see a question coming from the back. Wait, is that your mom?
A: AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Ink Ink, Baby

Well kids, I know it's been a couple of weeks, so hope you all had a nice turkey day with the parental units or whatever form of friends and family you surround yourselves with.

I headed home, as per tradition, to the Mile High Suburbs, where I wandered around Southwest Plaza, made awkward conversation with my dad, ate way too much stuffing, enjoyed a lovely night in downtown Denver and, oh yes, GOT A FREAKIN' TATTOO. Get! Me! Beth is officially a bad-ass. Well, that is if you can call someone with an old-school typewriter tattoo a bad-ass.

I've been thinking seriously about a tattoo for over a year, but the question was always what to get and where to put it. Plus whatever I decided to get would have to pass the "80 year old Beth test" in which I would still find it cool at age 80 and not live with the regret of having Pooh Bear or Morrissey inked permanently on my body which would have been the case had I done this back in my college days without really giving it some real thought and plenty of time.

But the typewriter seemed like something that is just very....me. The pink flowers remind me of my first apartment in Seattle that had a Magnolia tree in the courtyard that bloomed every Spring.

I lurve it. I really do. It was totally worth the wait and the effort and the pain and the money. And now, let's open it up for questions from the audience.