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Michaelshane

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Posts posted by Michaelshane

    Hello

    in Initiation

    Posted

    On June 8, 2018 at 2:13 PM, J.Stell said:

    I'm gonna use your "blow-out" as a metaphor:

    Part of the tattoo/line is a little too deep, the ink spread... Because you got in over your head with this tattoo,  just like the line, it got a bit deep, then up it pops for a little air- you waded back up into shallower water, where the comfort zone was/is.... 

    Blow-outs happen.... and if you weren't such a beginner in the "getting tattooed" pond... You would have been totally fine swimming in the deep end of the pond, cause you would have known... Hey,  it's not just a "you pick it, we stick it..." It's a hey.... kinda big deal, but regardless, you would have been prepared for such a thing....

    PS. It really sucks when someone has basically no tattoos, and they come into a place and start using "jargon" that they don't even understand, a little bit of manners, and a lot of mutual respect : will get you everything in a shop.

    Regardless.... I wish you the best in your tattoo collecting path.... And lots of luck.... When I was 18 and in a shop, I really do wish someone would have looked out for me... I didn't have that until I started working in the second tattoo shop, of my career... And I use the age of 18, because that's baseline beginner age, to me...

    I have an entire arm of dumb ass clowns... CLOWNS. And they cannot be removed. Just looking out for ya kiddo. AND I HATE ICP. but with this dumbass entire left arm: everyone thinks In love ICP. NO.

    Jennifer

     

     

    I want to see the clowns.

    Your First Tattoo Story

    in Crazy Tattoo Stories

    Posted

    On March 6, 2017 at 8:41 AM, tattooedj said:

    All folk on my maternal grandmother's side were gypsies who traveled pre-WW1 Europe chasing the fruit/vegetable harvests and telling tarot cards to make a living. Always on the road they carried their stories/possessions on their skin instead of in their homes (they had none).

    Fast-forward to the '80s and me growing up among these faded blue-grey tattoos of my landlocked relatives. At funerals/weddings/weekends, some showed their tattoos and told the toddler me: when I died St Peter would ask to prove ID at The Gates; while the plainskins patted down their now-nude bodies for proof of who they were, my kinfolk told me, they - the gypsies - only needed to point to their tattoos and stroll smiling right in through Heaven's doors.

    For a decade the thought of dying plain and ID-less terrified me so much that finally as a (young) teenager I blagged an older cousin's driver's license, faked my way into the town's only tattoo parlour and got my first tattoo.

    My favorite story.

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