My 37th birthday, January 31, 2006: trying to salvage what was sure to be another banal year with no great events, I decide to go crazy and get a tattoo. I'd had one in mind for awhile, so we went to Art to the Bone on Ventura in L. A., one of the best places to get inked in town. 

Oh, honey, we're so proud that you're getting something so white trash for your birthday! Now let me call your mother. 

Ah, lovely smiles, deceptively confident ( me)
and decpetively convincing that "it won't hurt
that much!" ( Denise). 

Howard: "Here?" Me: "no, little over."
Howard: "Okay, now?" Me: ummm,oookay..." 

Still brave because it's only a stencil. 

Look ma! It's totally a totally sterile workspace! 

"Feather- Hand" Howard starts the proccess. 

"J@$?!%s! M#@%rf**k!" Location, location, location-- that's what makes the pain wax and wane... 

Jeanna tries to distract me by reading this classic story. Apparently it's a tattooing tradition? 

"...and then the man with the Big Yellow Hat went and got some latex gloves and...." 

When is this gonna be over?? I wonder if he's enjoying this a little much from a sadistic point of view....? 

Jeanna: "C'mon, Julie, say 'rock on!!'" (gritting teeth) "ummm..rock on?" 

Damned close to finished ( and I'm trying to resume breathing....)... 

"Denise, if you take one more picture of me in pain I'm going to kick you." 

Okay, so I didn't kick her! Denise was an awfully vigliant photojournalist, and gofer. 

Howard, The Good Sport, Great Artist and Ever-Entertaining ( and Entertained, I think) Guy and The Birthday Girl.

Done and done.... 

...and so the finished project. Happy birthday to me!