Tonight I went with a friend who was getting a new tattoo designed for her birthday. Somehow, despite all of the boyfriends I have had with ink and extra holes in their bodies, I managed to avoid the omnipresent tattoo myself. Perhaps it was because I always knew I was so fickle that one week getting an anchovy tattoo would seem absolutely brilliant, and the next week I would wonder if I had been sniffing glue.

But as I sat there surrounded by flash art and ink, and my friend designed her new crotch covering, I thought I finally knew the perfect tattoo:

My cat, flying like a fat little superhero. Perhaps surrounded by little birds and chunks of kibble. It would make quite a back piece, don’t you think?

[Edited to add: at dinner tonight people were sharing tattoo stories of friends of theirs. One had gotten a tattoo of autopsy incision marks across his chest and neck, down to his abdomen. He even added funny quips like "Cut Here" with an arrow pointing to this or that spot.

And then he died and got an autopsy.

Can you imagine being the coroner? Do you laugh, cry or just show all of your coroner friends?]

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