Stars and stripes forever

When Suz came out to visit T and I last May, we decided to mark the 25+ year friendship with a tattoo. Something that meant a lot to the 3 of us. We got to talking and googling and finally settled on stars. The idea for the stars is pretty simple and pretty awesome. “Like stars in the sky, you can't always see your friends, but they are there, and will share your secrets and wishes...”

So stars is was to be. Three of them, one representing each of us and in our favorite color. We found a great design and then went in search of the right place. The first place looked cute, very English country manor on the outside. Inside, it’s a different picture. Imagine a dude named Curly with long hair and even longer beard, with a leather vest and untied boots, and in one hand – he’s licking pizza grease off his fat little fingers and in the other – a needle sratching ink into the shoulder of some guy who looked asleep. Not sure if the guy was drunk, drugged, or disinterested, we decided to browse until Curly finished his pizza and pot flower design. Flipped thru some polaroids of various hoohaw piercings that would make even Larry Flint blush. Wondered how Prince Albert feels about his very own namesake and then mused over how to send a freebie to asshat and dickweed.

Place number two was all business. Took Amex, had a receptionist, scheduled appointments… and we studiously avoided the glamour shots. Cha-ching!

The big day finally arrived with a huge hangover and the need for some hair of the dog. Donning loose fitting clothes, a bagel and several tequila shots, the 3 gal pals headed out for some permanent reminders of our everlasting friendship.

Our tattoo artist was this hip 20 year-old Asian hottie with big fake eyelashes and a push up bra pushing up big fake boobies. She totally rocked. T was the first in the chair. Suz and I popped gum and giggled while T gripped the chair and tore out handfuls of her big hair. Panted and fanned herself. T can’t handle needles. Faints in fact if she sees them (but that’s another story for another time.) How she made it thru the tat is still a mystery.

After two painful hours (for us as well) it was finally my turn. I should tell you we all decided to have the design put above our left hip which is really part of the lower tummy. Which is really ticklish for me. Which is why our bitchin Asian chick bitched me out for giggling and wiggling. “I will not have my art look like shit so effing knock it off” she said to me. I replied “I can't help it - it tickles dammit.” Suz and T looked at each other then back at me waiting for a brawl. Then “OK, OK, maybe you better yell at me?” I was done in 30 minutes. And pissed by all the shit talking my way. I’d have to tip her extra.

Suz just sat there – looking calm and frankly, bored. That’s my Suz, full of chick power but flicking her eyes from me, to T, to the ceiling and back. It was eerie. Flick. Flick.

The really cool thing about tattoos is that they are a permanent reminder of an event. Even without the ink, we’d still remember that day: stars, tequila, giggles and gals. But it makes us thank our lucky stars is to have gal pals that we can see up in the sky and above our bikini lines, whenever we need them.