Did I tell you? I worked in a tattoo shop in Las Vegas. Seriously. And not just any tattoo shop. I worked at Vince Neil's Ink. No kidding.
So, I'm a bit of a storyteller; maybe it's more like I helped out one of the artists while my friend Andreawas getting a tattoo (that's her in the photo with tattoo master Johnny Law). We loved Johnny. Not just because he is an awesome artist and cool guy, but because he laughed at our lame jokes. Then again, that smirk he was wearing may have been his snickering at our overall goofiness.
But, back to my work in Vegas. While I watched Johnny create a ladybug trio on Andrea's inner arm, (trying to make Andrea giggle), one of the artists in the cubicle beside us passed me a bottle of liquid and asked if I'd place it on the counter top.
While Johnny intently zapping fine lines of black ink onto my friend's flesh, I caught Andrea's attention, held my hands in the air as if I'd just scored a touchdown and said that I couldn't wait to get home to tell anyone who'd listen that I'd worked in a tattoo parlour in Vegas!!
As I stood there, briefly in an Elvis-esque pose, the fact that I'd just used the word "parlour" outed me immediately and I slunk back in my chair in the corner to watch a professional at work.
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