09 January 2013

The Sausage King


I got my first tattoo on the 27th of March 2010 and it has, so far, been my only piece of ink. The significance behind this tattoo dates back to my high school days with my two best friends, Jhon and Duncan. We had been trying to find a way to commemorate our friendship and BFF rings, mugs, and other such items seemed silly so when the conversation came around to getting matching tattoos we all agreed that was a great idea. Of course at age fifteen everyone and their parents thought it was ridiculous and tried talking us out of it.

Years later, in college and away from our parents, we discussed getting inked together during our next holiday vacation. Patience isn't exactly one of my strong suits so I jumped the gun and got inked on a whim with my friend Steph, posted the picture online, and bound Jhon and Duncan into definitely getting theirs done when we were all back home. A few months later the two were branded and the trifecta was complete.

The significance behind this piece comes from the fact that we're the three best friends that anyone could ever have. TSK symbolizes our friendship as "three stupid kids" which, when lined up back to back reads "tsk, tsk, tsk." The tattoo is emblazoned onto our shoulder blades to represent the fact that we will always have each others back regardless of whatever mess in which we finds ourselves.

Thanks to that initial picture I posted of my tattoo, my friends conjured up a fun new nickname for me in college. Whenever someone would ask what my tattoo meant they would immediately chirp in, "He's The Sausage King!" It was probably because of this relentless teasing that I began having recurring dreams of new tattoo ideas, one of which remains vividly etched in my memory.
A group of jocks are holding a boy half their size upside down in the air as he proceeds to chug the beer funnel forced upon him by his peers. Finishing, the crowd cheers as the boy is vertically corrected and hoisted up to revel in the glory of it all. That's when I noticed the familiar face of said idiot. It was me! 
"Yo, Elle! Elle... show us your new tattoo, man" The crowd cheers me on, do it! Do it! 
 Refusing modestly at first, I finally give in to peer pressure, my foggy mind, and choices clearly not altogether my own. Having trouble lifting off my shirt a gorgeous boy, who I can only assume is my boyfriend - I mean, who else would he be in this dream, right? - helps me out of it.
Shirtless, the crowd cheers on as my new tramp stamp is revealed: I solemnly swear I am up to no good. "Dude! Sweet! Come on, though, we wanna see the whole thing!" Shyly trying to fend them off, my dream guy whispers into my ear, "It's fine, babe. I think it's hot. Just give them a quick flash." 
Sighing, I slowly undo my belt buckle as one of the jock runs up to and pulls my pants down, revealing my bare ass for all to see. The crowd goes wild upon seeing the completely revelation of the new tattoo printed across my right butt cheek: Mischief Managed.
While I definitely (okay, maybe a little bit) don't want that particular tattoo, I fully intend on getting more ink in the future. My birthday is coming up this month and I think it's about time for a new addition to the family don't you?

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