In a move that is certain to cause every shark to turn their beady little eyes skyward, I got inked (as we cool people like to say) for the first time a couple of weeks ago. The scabs are just about gone now. It really wasn't something that was part of my life's plan but a good friend of ours is a tattooist and was closing her shop in SF and moving to LA. I figured I'd rather have somebody I know do the work. Also, my son got tattooed a few months ago so I didn't have to be a role model anymore.
I told Mrs Eephus about it the week before but it turned out she didn't believe me until our friend texted her the day of the appointment to ask if she was going to watch. I've been known to BS a bit but I thought I'd have more credibility with my wife of nearly 30 years. Perhaps she took me joking with our daughter than I was getting a butterfly tramp stamp as a indication that I was lying about the whole thing.
My tattoos are a pair of pinball flippers from an early 60's Gottlieb table, one on each of my calves. I've always loved pinball and the band Flipper so I'll take these things to my grave now.