Sunday evening was boring. The whole day was boring. Sandy Frank, Dennis, Sarah and I were bored. Bored, bored, bored.
Bored, of course, until we determined the perfect plan for the evening. Destination: South Street. Objective: Matching Tattoos.
Actually getting tattooed proved to be an adventure which led us out of Philadelphia Eddie's slimy establishment and into the so-clean-you-can-smell-it splendor of No Ka Oi, the parlour across the street.
A little background: the anchor tattoo has been something that Sandy Frank and I have been considering for two years. Instead of getting inked right when we decided how cool the idea was, we thought it wise to wait 2 years, and if it still seemed like a great idea, we'd do it.
Why anchors?
We think most tattoos are cheesy. Whether it's a rose, tribal, Tweety Bird, Celtic knot, hula girl, Chinese character, howling wolf head or something steeped in personal symbolism and meaning, Sandy Frank and I have a hard time taking an image (or our appearances) so seriously. We wanted something that acknowledged its own tattoo-ness (or 'tattude', if you'd like...), its hilarity, relative lack of originality and personal meaning, and ironic coolness able to withstand the test of time - only to grow more hilarious with age. We wanted the classic anchor tattoo.
