Source: Tattoo Supply Shop
I assume this side-by-side comparison is “Exhibit A” in the civil suit you’re bringing against your tattoo “artist.” Or do you just carry the photograph around by way of explanation to strangers that no, you were not married to Medusa?
Either way, HOLY CRAP are you lucky she’s dead. Because if she saw that, you’d be in for a serious ass-kicking.
Source: Tressugar.com
When you get your last name, gang affiliation, or band’s name tattooed on your back, the subtext is always “I’m awesome” anyway, so I can hardly fault someone for cutting through the bullshit and getting right to the point.
I can, however, fault them for spelling it wrong. This guy managed to get the one gothic-lettering back tattoo that shouts loud and clear, “I AM IN NO WAY AWESOME.” I mean, I can’t beleive it.
What? No, that’s how you spell it. “Beleive.” I even remember the rule: “I before E, except in beleive.” Right? Right. Otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten this:
Submitted by: Todd B.
Source: Fuck Yeah Tattoos
As you might have heard, the king is dead.
I’m not going to say I find this tattoo surprising. He was arguably the world’s most famous person, adored by literally millions of fans. I’m sure this isn’t the first Michael Jackson tattoo, and it’s certainly not going to be the last.
Here’s what DOES surprise me. This picture showed up in my inbox at around 8 p.m. last night, presumably after having hit a few other inboxes before mine. Jackson had been pronounced dead at 2:26 p.m., a scant 6 hours earlier. So while the rest of the world ground to a halt and office workers everywhere shirked deadlines in favor of watching Thriller clips on YouTube and hitting “refresh” on TMZ over and over again, this guy was calling around to local tattoo parlors to find someone who could squeeze him in for a same-day. I’m guessing he was in the chair by 4 in order to have had this shit touring the Internet by 7.
Meanwhile, I could barely get it together to call my mom to discuss the sad news. How do people get shit done (and on the Internet) so fast? And why do they always seem to use their powers for evil instead of good? Like getting idiotic tattoos instead of, say, finding a cure for cancer or cleaning my house? Only one of those activities ends in laser surgery, and it’s not cleaning out my fridge. Yet. If you wait any longer, it might be a different story.
Rest in peace, MJ. Thanks for Thriller.
Source: Rotten Yellow
I’ve been staring at this picture forever, trying to figure out why it seems so strange. Sure, it’s a dude with face tats, but there’s something that makes him even weirder than your average rejecter of social norms.
Then it finally hit me. It’s a guy with multiple piercings and a vaguely intimidating Guido-chain around his neck, whose face, neck, chest, and presumably other body parts are COMPLETELY FUCKING COVERED in tattoos. And yet, with those glasses, he looks like my uncle Donald. Like, if you told me he’s a civil engineer and works for the department of transportation, I wouldn’t bat an eye.
If you were that committed to living outside the mainstream, wouldn’t you make an effort to buy glasses from somewhere other than the LensCrafters in your local strip mall?
Source: Totoro
I’m sure this design is loaded with deeply personal symbolic meaning. Or at least that you thought so when you were having that acid flashback and skipped down to the nearest tattoo parlor.
Whatever it is, it’s scaring the dog.
Source: Mixx
This is the tattoo you get when you walk into the parlor and say, “I want a tattoo, but I’m just not sure what to get.” It’s known as the Kitchen Sink. Fan of James Brown? Done. How about Wu-Tang? Bam. Into bats, or flying animals of any kind? You’re covered.
What about Batman, birds, Jambi, aliens, dragons, dreadlocks, Frankenstein, goblins, Native American imagery, dinosaurs, or making your torso look like a face wearing a Crusader’s helmet? I defy you to find something not represented by this tattoo.
Submitted By: Dave R
This is the Mayor of Orlando, photographed shortly after the Lakers beat the Magic. I remember when the wagers cities would make against each other involved sending a boxful of some local delicacy if you lost. The ante has been upped, apparently.
Source: Foundshit.com
After he has the baby, this turns into a tattoo of brass knuckles.
Source: List Of The Day
I want a tattoo. There’s just something about them. They set people apart. Make them . . . different somehow. But it will be on me forever, so I want it to be something meaningful. This is a commitment. A celebration of something important to me.
Maybe my tattoo should be of President John F. Kennedy. A truly great American. Didn’t blink through the Bay of Pigs. Wrote Profiles in Courage. Inspired a nation.
But that might be a little intense. My body may not be fit enough to honor someone so great. Maybe a portrait of my wife? That one wedding picture she likes. She’s beautiful. She’d be honored. But man, what if the tattoo guy gets it wrong? What if one eye is bigger than the other, or something like that? Ooh, she would be pissed!
Goddamn! I know! Joe effing Dirt!
Source: Jiffy Feet
An alien? Fine. An alien with a bong? Fine, whatever. But a surly, squinty-eyed stoner alien that is clearly bogarting all the weed? If that guy showed up at my party it would totally harsh my mellow in more ways than one.
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