Tattoo Me Stupid

 

 

 

 

The great thing about vacation is that you stop thinking about work, grocery shopping, and dust bunnies. And you  start thinking about fun things like twist cones, your tan lines and how much money you can actually waste shooting water into a plastic clown's arcade mouth. The best thing of all, however, is those encapsulated writers' moments that careen by your face as you wander through the down time. The ones that make you go, "What?"

Ending a three mile walk around the Ocean City boardwalk this afternoon, l found myself with one such moment. Two young women in bikinis crossed directly in front of me and my family. The first had a tattoo on her left buttocks that read, "F*ck B*tches. The second ---I'm assuming a  designated best friend forever " had "Get Money" on her right cheek. 


Each member of my family suddenly and in almost pitch unison ceased talking and started gesticulating. Needless to say, we looked like an escaped mime team on penitentiary work release. The good news is our dazed looks were merely momentary, but the tattoos are not. 


"Those have to be temporary, right?" my 14 year old daughter kept repeating.


Sure. Temporary.  We must have passed  at least five or six tattoo shops advertising temporary henna tattoos. The problem is, it didn't matter if it was temporary. What matters is what they were thinking when they decided to do it, and what they were thinking now as their rears jiggled down the boardwalk. 


Past the babies, the mothers and toddlers, and swaggering shirtless men, the two asses walked 'til they and their messages disappeared. I decided if there was any thinking going on there, it was the sole thing truly hidden from view.

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