I know, I know.....it's been a long time since I've added little nuggets to this blog. I haven't forgotten about it. Trust me! It's just that life has gotten a lot more busy than I could have ever anticipated. I promise there will be more to come. But it will probably be after the new year.

Hope everyone had a great holiday and cheers to a prosperous and happy 2013! Let's make this Lucky '13.

Aimee

Not everything in my life revolves around tattoos. It sure seems that way sometimes, but the center of our world is really our kids; our girls. They’ve obviously grown up around tattoos and tattooed people, so they have come to know a more unconventional life than many of their friends and that’s okay. But, regardless of what we do for a living, we’re still parents first.

With parenthood, you have love and understanding with doses of discipline sprinkled with a bit of creativity. Augie is quite creative and Sofie proved that with him one night. This night has now become known as “The Thong Inferno.”

When Sofie was 14 years old, she received a gift card from Victoria’s Secret for Christmas. It was NOT from us!! We had no idea she was receiving this gift until she opened it up at a family gathering. She was excited; I was horrified. I didn’t want my kid buying under-skivies that should only be worn by women of legal age. Sure, that may make me sound like a prude, but I don’t care. While you’re living in my house and not an adult yet, your butt will have full coverage.

Before we could tell the gift givers that they need to take the card back, Sofie promised that she would only buy hoodies, t-shirts or yoga pants with it. She begged us to let her keep it. We said she could and let her know that NO UNDER-SKIVIES WILL BE PURCHASED.  She agreed.

Every year, after Christmas is over, I always take the girls to the mall so they can spend the money and gift cards they got as presents. This has been our tradition for the past seven or eight years. Before, they got Build-a-Bear gift cards, ones for clothing or jewelry; innocent stuff. The Victoria Secret gift card was a game changer. Thank goodness Gia didn’t get one.

I reminded her the night before our outing, the morning of our outing and in the car on our way there that there will be only hoodies, shirts or pants being bought with said gift card. I even reminded her as we approached the store. “I know, Mom! I know!” is all she kept saying.

I let her mosey around the store while Gia and I looked at the shirts. I’d peek over at Sofie from time to time to keep an eye on what she was looking at….so far so good. My mind was at ease when I saw her with a hoodie and a pair of pants draped over her arm. Yay, she’s listening!  I turned my attention back to Gia.

Not a minute later, I turned around again and saw Sofie hovering over a display of underwear. Taking Gia by the hand, we headed over to the crowd surrounding all of these drawers of underwear. I snuck up behind her and peered over her shoulder. She didn’t know I was there as she held up a pair of lacey butt floss. Oh, hell no! I tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around with a look of horror that quickly turned into anger.

Before I could say anything, she spouted off about how uncool I was and how unfair I am because all of her friends wear thongs. Really? Justin the quarterback wears these? Huh….that’s good to know, but it doesn’t change the fact that I said no. She continued to spew justifications my way. My favorite was when she tried to justify the importance of not having panty lines with yoga pants. Then wear a longer shirt. She didn’t like that answer.

By this point, all the people around the display were staring at us. I could care less. I just gave them a wink and a smile and followed my pissed off child as she stormed away from me. Good times! She eventually made her way to the checkout line with the clothes I approved of, not saying a word to me. I told her that Gia and I will wait outside of the store for her. Big mistake! But I wouldn’t find that out until later.

It wasn’t until about a week or so later, when Sofie asked me if I could put her laundry in the dryer that I realized that I had been had. As I’m taking the clothes out of the washing machine, a small wad of fabric fell onto the floor. At first, I couldn’t tell what the soggy lump was, but when I picked it up, I knew! It was a thong. No she didn’t! Yes, she did.

I remembered seeing a sign on the underwear display that said, “Buy 2 Get 1 Free,” so I knew there was more. I pulled all of the wet clothes out the dryer and hunted for the other two pairs. I only found one more. With two dank thongs in my hand, I headed upstairs. She was standing in the kitchen with her back to me.

“Hey, Sof.  Is there something you’d like to tell me?” I asked as the thongs dangled from my finger. When she spun around, you would have thought she’d seen a ghost. I didn’t give her a chance to answer.

“Where’s the third pair?” I queried.

“Uhhhh…..I’m wearing them.” She knew she was busted and didn’t even try to give an explanation.

“Give them to me,” I said as her eyes about popped out of her head.

“Now? Here?”

“If that’s what you want to do. I’d rather you go into the bathroom.”

With her head down, she headed to the bathroom to take them off. She returned a short time later with the evidence and an apology. Very calmly, I told her that I wasn’t sure how I wanted to handle this, but she will be getting some sort of consequence for buying these when she wasn’t supposed to. She nodded her head and went back to doing what she was doing.  

A few hours later, when Augie called to say he was on his way home from work, I filled him in on what happened. All he said was, “Okay. I will see you when I get home.” That was it. Normally, I can read him pretty well, but this time, I had no clue what he was thinking.

I was downstairs watching TV when he arrived home. He gave me a kiss and asked where Sofie and the thongs were. I told him she was in her room listening to music and I pointed to the thongs on the floor. He picked them up and headed upstairs. A short time later, I heard them go outside.

I wasn’t sure what they were doing out there, but I assumed that he was throwing them in the outside trash and wanted her to watch him do that. Well, that’s what I get for assuming. It wasn’t until Gia and her friend (who was sleeping over that night) came downstairs and told me what was going on. About that time, Augie and Sofie came inside.

“Oh my god, Mom,” Gia started. “Dad burned Sofie’s underwear!” What????

Before I could get off the couch, Sofie and Augie came walking in. He had a huge grin on his face and was doing a little dance. She was laughing. What the hell is going on?

“Mom, Dad burned my thongs! He lit them on fire in the driveway……AND he sang and danced around them. It was so embarrassing,” said Sofie. Augie, still smiling, nodded his head. I asked for an explanation.

 

Augie told me that on the way home, he was trying to figure out what he could do to teach her a lesson about doing something after she was told not to. He figured that burning the underwear would make that point. He said that while it burned, he felt like singing and dancing. His song, I was told, was about how his daughter who bought underwear that she was told not to buy and that he was BBQ-ing them.

“And Mom, cars were going by while Dad sang and danced. He got louder and danced more crazy each time they went by,” Sofie told me as she laughed. She went on to say that she has learned her lesson and promised that she will never buy thongs again. And she’s kept that promise. Well, at least that I know of, but I now keep a closer eye on that laundry of hers.

I guess we can call that one, “Lessons Learned From a Tattoo Dad.”

I have a love/hate relationship with all of the reality shows that have to do with tattooing and piercing.  While I’m grateful for the attention it has brought the industry, I don’t like the way these shows make the industry look. The shows are more about sensationalism and money than substance: like most TV you see these days. Regardless, it still annoys me. But, I have to confess. I did watch one not long ago.

I was at my cousin’s house and this tattoo show was on that I had never heard of before. The premise of the show had to do with tattoo shop makeovers. The host, whose last name just happened to be Tattoo…what are the odds….swoops in and saves a struggling shop. Same premise as those restaurant, hair salon and home make over shows that we’ve been seeing for a few years now.

 

I have to admit, the longer I watched it, the more it was pissing me off. Here’s why:

1.       The way the owners and staff looked was embarrassing. Everyone in the shop looked like they were going to a Halloween party. The makeup was just as thick on the guys as it was the girls. I get that they are expressing themselves and being who they want to be, but honestly, I couldn’t take them seriously. And if I’m getting tattooed by someone, I would like that person to take their job seriously; but that’s just me.

2.       As Mr. Tattoo moseyed through the shop, he would point out outrageously large dust bunnies. I mean these things were the size of baseballs and sitting at the base of the client chairs, the autoclave and even by the bottles of ink. Seriously? If it was truly that dirty, they should have been shut down. But looking at the dust, I questioned whether those bunnies were even real. They looked more like shredded yarn than dust bunnies. Did I mention that the floor was one of cleanest floors I had ever seen? Hmmmmm….

3.       The layout of the shop. Now, I don’t know where this shop was, so I don’t know what their laws are; I only know Illinois law. With that said, I looked at this shop with our laws in mind. According to Illinois, all tattooing and piercing rooms need to be private. They each must have a door and some sort of wall high enough that it prohibits others from seeing what’s going on. Makes sense to me. I wouldn’t want to be sitting there getting a tattoo on my boob or getting my hoo-ha pierced with strangers gawking at me. Hell no! We have private rooms at our shop. Our place used to be a dental office with private exam rooms, so our clients have always had privacy. The place on this show had no rooms, no walls or door separating the clients. It was one gigantic open room. The bathroom was the only place that had four walls and a door. Not a bit of privacy for any of the clients. I hope their clients don’t have modesty issues. After the makeover was done, there still were no walls. Regardless of what their state law is on privacy, I would think you would want your clients to have privacy. Again, that’s just me.

4.       The owner and staff’s attitude and behaviors. You would think that since they looked like clowns, they would be just as jovial. Nope. They were not only rude and crude to each other; they were not so pleasant with their clients. If anyone working at our shop treated customers that way, they’d be gone. Period. Business rule #1…..Be kind to your clients if you want them to come back. That should be a no brainer. But, who knows...they couldn've been acting the show.

Maybe I’m a little more cynical or more sensitive to these kinds of shows being that we are in the industry. I don’t know. I just don’t want this industry to be more criticized and looked down upon because of shows like this. This industry has gone through a lot and to have it further degraded is frustrating. I guess entertainment value rules.  But truth be told, reality shows aren’t really reality, are they? With that said, I have to go……Kitchen Nightmares is on!

Tattoos can turn into a helluva passion for some people. It did for me; more like an all-out obsession really. I wiped out my entire savings account to get tattoos when I was 18 years old. And this was before Augie and I even started dating. The desire for more tattoos didn’t last though. Those feelings began to fade as our relationship progressed. Why? Who knows; I was 18 and love sick.

I stopped at nine tattoos; three of which I’ve gotten within the last ten years. I can safely say that I’m not obsessed anymore….mainly because the older I get, the more it hurts. Augie teases me and says I’ve become “needle shy” and reminds me that his oldest client is in her 90’s (cool gal, by the way). No, it’s not that….I’ve just turned into a wuss! That’s why #9 hasn’t been touched in about five years.

Like I said, I get the whole obsession/passion part of it. The entire experience is alluring; the sounds of the vibrating coils on the machine, the minty scent of the green soap, feeling the piercings of the needles as you watch your new tattoo come to life. I get it. It's an assault on your senses. Well, except for the sense of taste. Only the ones that have been tattooed in their mouth can claim all five. But, what happens when you no longer have any skin to tattoo?

This can actually be devastating for some people. Think about it…it can take several years for someone to become fully tattooed in what’s called a body suit. It’s a process that requires a lot of planning, sittings, money and because of all the time the client and artist spend together; they get to know each other quite well. And then….bam….it’s over.

Just to give you an idea: sessions can last anywhere from an hour up to six or eight hours at a time. Typically, someone getting steady work done comes in about every two to three weeks. A sleeve for example, can take upwards of 36 hours to complete. Add legs, torso, back and unmentionable parts to that and they have years of work and time ahead of them.

I have only seen a couple of clients in the past 20 some-odd-years become so depressed when they ran out of space that they turned to alcohol. It was almost like they didn’t know what to do now that their body suite was complete; replacing one obsession with another, I guess. It was heartbreaking. I don’t want anyone to ever feel like that after they’re done. Look on the bright side….there’s always piercings!!!!

Has anybody seen or heard about the mom who was arrested for tattooing her 11 year old daughter in North Carolina last week? In case you haven’t……this mother, who is a tattoo artist (allegedly), tattooed a small heart on her child’s shoulder because the little girl asked her to do it.

The fact that the child asked to get a tattoo doesn’t bother me a bit. Our girl’s mention they want tattoos all of the time. We just tell them no, daddy isn’t going to jail for you just because you can’t wait until you are 18 years old. It just blows my mind that this mom was okay with this. As a parent, I couldn't imagine saying, "Oh sure, sweetie. A tattoo at your age is a fabulous idea!"

The mom claims to have not known about any tattoo laws in her state. She says she wasn’t aware of the fact that no one under the age of 18 can get tattooed, regardless of parental consent. I have a serious problem with that statement. If we end of finding out that she’s an actual tattoo artist, then there is absolutely no excuse as to why she doesn’t know the laws in her state. It’s your business, your livelihood for goodness sake! That’s like a doctor saying he had no idea there were malpractice laws.

Should the mom go to prison if convicted? I don’t think she should. I see her benefitting more from parenting classes rather than serving any jail time. Being locked up, learning absolutely nothing about being a parent while being away from your daughter, to me, that’s an unnecessary punishment for both of them.

Should the daughter have the heart tattoo removed? I don’t believe it needs to come off; at least not right now. It’s already there; let her make that decision when she’s an adult. She has already endured the pain of getting a tattoo, why put her through the horrific pain of having the tattoo burned off her flesh? It just seems cruel to me. Not to mention the thousands of dollars it can take to remove a tattoo.

Too bad she didn’t read my blog before she decided to do this…..using the Little-Girl-No-Hurt-Tattoos may have been a better choice.

“Tips are welcomed and accepted” reads the sign in Augie’s office. He put the sign up many, many years ago after some of his clients had continually asked him if it was appropriate to give him a tip after being tattooed or pierced. And over the years, clients have taken that sign and interpreted it in their own way.

For the most part, cash is given to him for his tip, which is the customary thing to do. A select few have offered him dogs, lizards, shirts and even shoes as a tip for the services he has provided. Thank goodness he didn’t accept the animals. If he had, we’d be living in a zoo right now.

Bolder clients have gone as far as to offer him various forms sex for the work he has done. Of course those offers are proposed by mostly women, but you may be surprised to know that boyfriends and husbands have offered up their wives and girlfriends to him for their appreciation as well.

“C’mon dude! My old lady will blow your mind,” no pun intended.

I don’t know what’s more distressing…..the girls having no idea that their men have offered them up to Augie or the ones that are standing in the room and  are all for their husband or boyfriend’s suggestion. Either way, I find it bothersome.

Thankfully, Augie shuts those guys down along with all the women that offer up their skills to him. He’s a smart man. I guess if he didn’t, I wouldn’t be a Tattoo Wife right now.

So, what’s the moral of this story? If you want to give him a tip, please stick with cash.

Did you know that the tattoo industry went unregulated in Illinois until 2006? Sadly, it took that long to get policies and regulations in place. I for one am thrilled! Yah, yah I know… it gives the government a chance to put another finger into the ass of humanity, but it needed to happen.

I have seen a steady increase of shops popping up over the years. Where I live there are at least four or five. That’s incredible considering that when Augie and Doc set out to find a place to open back in 1989, they were hit with a lot of “not in my town” responses. It took them close to a year to find a place that would accept them. But, that’s a story for another time.

Several years before the laws were set in place, a tattoo artist on the east coast attempted to regulate the entire country under one set of policies for tattooing and piercing. I did like the idea, but not to the extent that she wanted. She attempted to implement a law that stated all shops have to have a registered nurse on the premises during all operating hours. And it would be at our expense.

We all panicked. We had no clue how much it was going to cost us to have a nurse there. These guys have fluxuating income; how are they supposed to pay him/her at a time when there is no money coming in? How much would it be to insure this person? We wouldn’t have been able to stay open.

Well, those two put their heads together and came up with a plan…..send Aimee to nursing school. I thought it was a great idea! I’ve watched “ER” and the Discovery Channel, it didn’t look that hard. I wasted no time in getting started with this. I called the school and was lucky enough to be accepted for the next semester they had coming up.

As excited as I was, nothing could have prepared me for the challenge that lied ahead. Basically, it sucked from day one. I found out rather quickly that my brain does not have the capacity for medical terminology or pharmacology dosage calculations. It was such a struggle.

I would study my note cards constantly, but no matter how hard I tried, nothing would stick. And these are things you kinda need to know when you’re working with the human body. Study groups didn’t help, studying independently didn’t help, making up songs and rhymes didn’t help. I ended up failing. I just couldn’t pull it off. It was apparent that I was not meant to be a nurse.

Yes, I was disappointed, but I was more upset with the fact that I wasn’t able to do this for them. I felt like a failure. However, it didn’t take long for those feelings to quickly turn into relief. We found out that the woman on the east coast decided to stop pushing this initiative forward. She had run into so many brick walls that she pretty much gave up. Which was fine by me; I didn’t want to have to go back and do that again.

There are a few things you should know (compliments of Augie)….

1.     A “tat” can be drawn in 5 minutes. Real artwork takes time.

2.     Creative designs rarely come flying out of my ass. They require actual work. The day that happens, I'll let you know.

3.     If you didn’t take care of your tattoo, it doesn’t mean that I screwed up. You did.

4.     No, I cannot cover your tribal armband with a tiny daisy.

5.     A good tattoo isn’t cheap. I’m sorry if you can’t afford it. Maybe you shouldn't have bought the new smart phone.

6.     Go ask my landlord if he'll give me a discount this month and if he says yes, then I’ll be happy to give you the “hook up.”

7.     Yes, tattoos do hurt. Did you expect to a massage when you sat down? Suck it up buttercup and hold still!!

8.     You came to me because I’m good at what I do and I take pride in my work. Please listen when I give you advice. I’m only trying to make your tattoo look good.

9.     Unless you’re an experienced tattoo artist, please don’t tell me how to do my job. I knew how to do this long before you came in the door.

10.  Don’t let the third cousin of your "bro" give you a tattoo. Owning a “tattoo gun” doesn’t make them talented or skilled.

11. HEPATITIS CAN KILL YOU!!!!! Don’t be a cheap bastard….spend the extra $50.

The tattoo and body piercing industry has gone through such an evolution, especially over the last several years in terms of acceptance. Like I’ve mentioned before, people with tattoos were always looked down upon as low-life’s or seedy characters. It’s nice to see that things are changing. It’s not perfect, but we’re getting there.

I remember like it was yesterday being shunned and discriminated against myself. I had a nurse practitioner refuse to touch me during a physical because I was tattooed and pierced. She told me that I was disgusting and I should be ashamed of myself for disgracing my body in such a way and then walked out of the exam room.

I was humiliated. I was only 18 years old at the time and didn’t have the guts to stand up for myself. I sheepishly put my clothes back on and left with my head hung low. That was the first time something like that had ever happened to me, but sadly, it wouldn’t be the last.

We’ve been ignored, given dirty looks and even given the cold shoulder when we’ve been out shopping, on vacations or just walking down the street. It’s obnoxious, yes, but you learn to take it in stride. The funniest time was when we were denied a dog from a breeder. This woman denied us over the phone without even seeing us.

The conversation I had with this woman went really well…..at first. She liked that I was a preschool teacher. She told me all about her grandkids and their preschool experience. We talked about her dogs and how cute the breed was. She even told me that she still had two puppies available and invited us to come and see them. That all changed when she asked me the next question.

“Now, tell me about your husband. What does he do for a living?” Without hesitation I told her. The words tattoo and pierce must have made her a mute because there was stone cold silence on the other end. Hello??

“I’m sorry, I was mistaken. The pups have been spoken for already. I’m sorry you wasted your time.” Click. Just like that, the conversation was over.

The worst is when our girls are the victims of bigotry solely based on adults’ opinions of us. Discriminate against me all you want, I don’t care. Just don’t treat my kids badly based on your close minded opinions. That has to be the most frustrating and difficult part of all of this.

There have been a few occasions where that has happened, but there was this one mom in particular that really pissed me off. Our girls went to school together and we had talked before at parent functions and during drop off/ pick up times for play dates. She was, I thought, a nice person. Again, that all changed once she met Augie.

They hadn’t met before because of his work schedule, but when they finally did meet, she let her true colors shine like the sun on a hot summer day. When Augie was picking our daughter up at this woman’s house, she caught a glimpse of his arms, her smile went to a look of pure disgust. She couldn’t have pushed our daughter out her front door fast enough. He didn’t say anything since the girls were right there. He just said goodbye and brought her home.

It wasn’t until she came home from school the next day hysterical, practically inconsolable that we learned how awful this woman really was. This woman’s daughter told our little girl on the playground that her mom said they could no longer play or have sleepovers because she didn’t “trust” her dad. She went on to say that she was told her daddy was a bad person and it wasn’t safe for her to come to our house anymore. The word jail came up a few times. The mom pretty much slammed our family based on his two arms and now her daughter was following suit.

We sat her down and talked about discrimination and how there are those out there that assume tattooed people are automatically bad. This was difficult to explain to a seven year old because she had never experienced anything like that before. To her, daddy was perfect.

I called the mom only to get her voice mail, repeatedly. She never called me back and avoided me like the plague at the school. Coward. Thankfully this story has a happy ending….they moved.

This experience however, was a blessing in disguise. It allowed us to start talking with our girls about how important it is not to judge a book by its cover. They’ve learned that they should to get to know a person and base your opinions on who they are and not by how they look like or what they do. Easier said than done, I know.

Nowadays, with body art being so prevalent in society, it's not as bad as it was. Sure, there are those that are still closed to the idea that tattooed/pierced people are nice and believe we'll turn you into a criminal, but oh well. It's their loss if they don't want to get to know us.

“Well, I’ll be. You muss’be Ow-gie.”  

“Augie. Yes, Augie. That’s me.”

“Well, it sure is ny-ce to fine’ly meet ya, Ow-gie.”

This was the first conversation he had with my extended family when I took him down to meet them for the first time. By down I mean south. Augie was born in Illinois, raised in Illinois and the vast majority of his family is spread the northern states. Going to southern Indiana, a short journey north of the Kentucky border, was a whole new experience for him; the sights, but mostly the sounds.

I did my best to prepare him for what may lie ahead. The town I’m from is old, real old. Put it this way, it was established as a fort in the 1730’s. Yah, it’s old. But the history there is amazing (the battles fought there, it’s the home of comedian Red Skelton and the treasured visit from Robert Kennedy on the campaign trail, just to name a few). Unfortunately, he didn’t get to experience any of the history. We didn’t have time for that. We had a lot of family ground to cover.

“Now remember….if you have any trouble understanding anyone, let me know.” I reminded him as we arrived at my Grandma’s house. He reassured me that he should be just fine and not to worry; he had a plan. He said his plan was to try and piece together their sentences to figure out what they were saying. He reckoned that if he could understand at least a few words, he’d get what they were talking about. That all changed once we opened the door.

Introductions went fast and furious. His strategy went right out the window as he was bombarded with hugs, kisses and food.  I have to give him credit though; he took it all in stride. He did have a little trouble here and there, but it wasn’t a big deal. Heck, anyone who has ten people talking to you at once is going to have some difficulty no matter what accent they have. However, it got even more difficult when I introduced him to one of my cousins.

The conversation started out innocent enough. Augie asked, “So, what do you do for a living?”

My cousin responded, “Ahhh haw coe.” I knew the second those three syllables hit the air, Augie would be beside himself wondering what the hell he just heard.

“I’m sorry?” Augie replied ever so politely. I could tell he was trying to use the piecing together strategy that he told me he was going to use.

“Ahhh haw coe.” Augie looked like a deer in headlights. The only thing I could do was smile. Well, maybe not the ONLY thing. What’d he say to ya sweetheart? Hee…hee…hee

“I’m so sorry. Sometimes my ears get stuffy and I don’t hear so good. You do what now?”

“Ahhh haw coe.” Augie looked over to me again, but this time mouthed the words I don’t know what he is saying. I gave in; he looked so pitiful.

I leaned over to him and mouthed really slow:  He….Hauls….Coal. Poor Augie, he was so embarrassed. He felt bad that he wasn’t able to understand the guy. I reassured him that it was okay because I highly doubted my cousin understood what he was saying either.

 

Augie has gotten better at figuring out the southern drawl. He had no choice….he married me didn’t he? He still needs help with translations from time to time, but for the most part, he does alright. But the next time you’re in the shop, ask him if he knows anyone that can haw coe!

Do I mind it when clients become friends? No, not really. Most of the clients that we have become friends are wonderful people. I wouldn’t trade their friendship for the world. However, it’s the clients that try to take things further than friendship that bother me.  Thankfully, this has only happened three times in the past 21 years. Oh yah, I remember each of them very well!

The first time, the girl didn’t even live in Illinois. She met Augie at some tattoo shows before I began dating him. He did tell me about her, but in typical guy fashion….Yah, she’s got this thing for me, but trust me honey, she’s not my type. Cough cough…bullshit…cough cough! I immediately began to create my own image of this young lady in my little brain…a tall blonde size 0 with gynormous boobs.  A Pam Anderson type (1990’s Pam, of course), if you will.

There before me stood this chick that looks like she received make up advice and style tips from the Cure. He was right! There’s no way in hell she was his type.  This chick was in black from her hair all the way down to the fishnet stockings that disappeared into her Doc Martin boots; I do have to say, the school girl plaid mini-skirt added a nice touch. It gave me flashbacks to my old St. Margaret Mary uniform skirt except this one was shrunken to fit a toy poodle.

Remember the saying….if looks could kill, I’d be dead? Well, once Augie introduced me to her, serrated daggers darted from her eyes straight into my skull. I should be dead.  Thankfully, she got pissed off and left. Well, left where we were standing anyway. She continued to circle around us like a shark eyeing up his prey. I was grateful when we finally headed home.

A short time later, letters from her started appearing in the studio mailbox. First it was twice a month, then once a week. Each and every letter was her professing her love for him and how I’m a “harlot.” Harlot? I wear too many layers of clothes to be a harlot, sweetie. Before long, the letters came daily. The letters eventually stopped and we never heard from her again. I guess she found a new guy to obsess about, oh well.

The second time came in the form of a couple; a husband and wife. They came in for tattoos on a regular basis, which is common. I don’t have a problem with that; some people actually become addicted to tattoos and will be in all the time. Hell, I was one of those people. But things began to change when they started to “hang out” without getting tattooed or pierced.

On several occasions, Augie had to ask them to leave. That opened the flood gates, let me tell you. They began showing up with food for the guys as an excuse to come up all the time. The guys loved it of course….free food. Augie became blinded by the cream puffs, beef sandwiches, pizza and gobs of other goodies they would bring up to them. The way to a man’s heart is his stomach, like Grandma always said, I suppose.

The dynamic duo took it up a notch. They got a hold of our home number and began to call me. I put the kibosh on that faster than the flap of a humming bird’s wing. They did stop calling, but now they turned to the internet. The email I opened from the husband went something like this: I’ve been getting into photography lately and since you’re an artist like me, I would like your opinion on them. They're real avant garde. There were pictures in there alright, but  I wouldn't call them avant garde by any means.

The pictures were of his wife posed over logs, rocks and even in front of a waterfall buck ass naked. The shots were in black and white (maybe that's what he meant by avant garde). I felt compelled to write back. I don’t remember the exact words I wrote to him, but it basically came down to…You asshole creep! Stay away from me, my husband and the studio or I will be calling the cops on your dumb ass.  Guess what? We haven’t heard or seen them since.

The last one (and I hope it stays the LAST one) kind of crept up on us. It was a young lady pining for Augie. What started out as innocent flirting quickly turned into a crazy time. In the beginning, she would go out of her way to do things for us like help with the cleaning, getting them food (yah, I know, that should’ve been my first clue) and talking with customers. She really was a sweet kid, so I thought.

She began to show up at various places he was at like the gas station, a grocery store, the pharmacy. He even saw her in the rearview mirror on his way to work a few times. This girl even showed up at Home Depot when we were with our kids. Mind you, we live 45 minutes from the studio and so does she. It was unsettling.

Thankfully, Augie was able to end the situation before it progressed any further. She moved on and hasn’t been back since. I’m glad this and the other situations ended well. And I hope to never experience anything like it again....I’m getting too old for this shit!

I will never forget the bizzaro conversation I had with a woman selling body jewelry. I had actually met her once before at the Christmas party her and her husband threw at their tattoo shop in the city several months prior to this. Wouldn’t you have liked to be a fly on that wall?!

Our little chat started out with her asking me if I was pierced; she couldn’t remember. I hadn’t been pierced yet and was too embarrassed to say no, so I lied. I told her I had my nipples done. Big mistake! She asked if she could see the jewelry I was wearing. WHAT??? I guess that’s what I get for lying. I think the look on my face startled her more than the question she asked me because she quickly grabbed some sample jewelry and started her pitch with no more mention of checking out the goods.

“Do you plan on breast feeding?” she asked.  What? Why? Do I look pregnant? I’m only 19! Oh dear God! I wanted to run. I should’ve run, but my feet wouldn’t move. My inner curiosity stomped all over flight response like a coon hound on the hunt.

“I was just curious since you’re young and your nipples are pierced….I wasn’t sure if you knew that you can still breastfeed with your jewelry still in.” I should’ve ran. She offered me tips about what to look for in good breastfeeding jewelry. Of course she had plenty of samples.

For you ladies out there, I feel the need to pass these tips on to you. You know, just in case. It’s the least I can do….

1.       Barbells are best. Curved barbells are okay, but most babies prefer the straight barbell. Most babies prefer……why? You asked them?

2.       Only keep the hoops in if you’re sure the ball is secure in the middle. The balls could be a choking hazard. And jewelry in the mouth won’t be?

3.       If there are “crusties” where the barbell comes out, clean it off. Barf….

4.       Don’t wear the bondage chain that connects the rings. The baby can get tangled up in it. Anyone have some water? I’m going to pass out!

Okay, call me an effin prude if you want. I do not care. What she told me grossed me out so bad that I when I did finally get my nipples pierced, I only had them in for about a year. The second we started talking about starting our family, those suckers came out and never went back in. I wanted to make sure I was completely and utterly healed before I gave birth! Gross!!

I get a kick out of watching people.  People piss me off a lot, but I still find them fascinating. That’s one of the things I loved about going to tattoo shows. It was like walking amongst a reality show. But it was at my one that I saw a guy I absolutely fell in love with. I never got to meet him, I just gazed from afar.

It was his choice outfit that caught my eye. He was sporting these satiny knee socks that would normally be nestled in a pair of nice Wing Tip shoes were instead being consumed by a pair of sensible black sandals. But it wasn’t until I looked further up on this gentleman that I realized the socks and sandal combo was the least shocking of the outfit.

From what I observed so far, I could tell that he took precious time in finding just the right thing to wear. He had on the brightest pair of BVD’s I had ever seen. Of all the colors of tightie whities, he had to pick canary yellow; canary yellow with white trim, no less. Those suckers were bright! It was like looking at the moon only to be blinded by the sun.

Not only was the outfit one of a kind, but I would soon find out, so was the guy. He was a 92 year old man that was covered from his neck down with old, old tattoos. They were so old they were blue and running together. It was as if he had been painted with the colors of the ocean.

I couldn’t get over all of the history that was tattooed all over his body; the designs, the styles, the ink and the tools that were used. I was captivated. I even tried to picture what it might have been like to get a tattoo back in the 1920’s and 30’s. What were the tools like? How clean was the place? How drunk was everybody?

I know he’s passed on by now (this was back in 1992), but he still pops in my head once in a while. I can still see him walking along with a big grin on his face enjoying all of the attention from the people there. He looked like he was having the time of his life. I hope that if I’m lucky enough to be kicking a long like that at 92 that I’m as vibrant as he was and that I have better fashion sense.

Augie invited me to go with him to a tattoo convention when I was 18 years old. This particular convention was one that he went to every year up in northern Wisconsin. That year, he invited me to tag along with him. So, we grabbed some friends and off we went.

My curiosity was on full speed during the ride up there. I knew that I would be in a room surrounded by a bunch of  people with tattoos all over and piercings everywhere, but I never expected that I would come face to face with a seriously pissed off member of the Outlaw bike club AND that I was the one that pissed him off.

Did you know that bike clubs frown upon you trying to take their picture? Well, let me tell you….they do! I learned a very good lesson that day and it’s one that I will never forget! Hell, I’ve learned this lesson so well that I’m still not all that comfortable with making eye contact for too long with anyone in a bike club and it happened over 20 years ago. Here’s what happened…..

I had been walking around the convention hall checking out all of the people, snapping pictures and taking it all in when I spied a clutch of bikers down by the Harley Davidson display. They were all standing around laughing and drinking their beers while their ladies gathered next to them. I have to admit, I was so captivated. Scenes from a movie where Sam Elliot played this biker guy dating Cher kept popping in my head. I whipped out my camera.

It took me some time to align my shot because I wanted to capture something edgy. In my mind, I was about to snap a photo worthy of a magazine cover. It wasn't until I moved a bit to my right that I caught the eye of one of the guys through the view finder. This was it! This was going to be the perfect shot!  As I adjusted the focus, he came towards me with serious intent in his eye.

He was walking at such a quick pace that he kept going in and out of focus. Before I knew it, his belly had engulfed my view finder. All I saw was black. Just then I heard Augie say, “I’m sorry, man. She didn’t know. I swear.” I peeked up from my camera and looked at both of them with stark confusion. Didn’t know what??

The guy, who matched Augie’s six foot three frame, looked down at me, then back to Augie and said, “Keep an eye on your bitch.” Bitch? Who the fuh…..Augie had my arm and was pulling me back to where our friends were waiting, apologizing to the guy as we walked away. What the hell just happened?

He flat out told me that I came real close to getting my ass kicked. He explained that the guy didn’t want his picture taken because more than likely, he was wanted for some kind of illegal activity. I could feel my eyes budge out of my head because this is what I heard him say….You could’ve been killed by someone who could’ve killed somebody!

Thank goodness this happened on the last day of the convention. I was so overcome with terror at the meager thought of running into that guy again that I couldn't wait to get the hell out of there. Lesson learned! But that would only be the first of many lessons. I got schooled at a lot of things!

Part Two:

The only logical thing to do, we thought, was to open our own place. We had thrown the idea around several times throughout the years and decided this couldn’t have been a more perfect time to do it. So, we sat down and made a plan of action.

Augie already had a lot of his own equipment that went beyond the scope of just the machines and all the goodies that go along with those (needles, power cords, power box, ink and so on).The items we did need belonged Doc. All of that went to his family, as it should. They were items such as displays, an autoclave, flash (the designs on the walls), and so on. Not a big deal.  We could get the equipment we needed online. The big deal was finding a place.

You would think that we could just rent the same place he had been at for over 15 years and we’d be ready to go, but that wasn’t the case. The landlord had told all of us about the possibility of selling the place to the village the previous year. There had been talks between the neighboring towns about putting in a road that connects Rt. 31 and Rt. 25. This would mean that the building and surrounding structures would have to be knocked down.  Suffice it to say, there was a good chance he would sell. We had to find other options.

Let me tell you…..finding a place sucked! One place was so off the beaten path that no one would ever find us. Another one was practically in the parking lot of a bar……HELL NO! The last thing we need is to have a bunch of drunken idiots coming in and signing consent for a tattoo of a pink polar bear in a flowered tutu playing the accordion while dancing on a rainbow and regretting it in the morning. No thank you!

The rest of them would either flat out say no or they would spout off the most outrageous rent amounts to make us be the ones that say no thanks. I kid you not……we had on guy tell us that rent would be $4,500 a month for a place smaller than a three car garage. Dude, really? Grow some balls and tell me you don’t want our kind.

We searched for about two months for a place when we got a phone call that changed everything. It was the old landlord. Talk of the new road was fading, so he decided to keep the building. He offered us a great deal on rent and told us we could have the keys the next day. I’m not a religious person, but I gotta say Amen, hallelujah! And on July 18, 2006, Augie’s Place Tattooing and Piercing was open for business!

Business was good. A lot of clients didn’t even know the place had been shut down for a few months. They would come in and ask about the name change, but other than that, it was business as usual. It was a great transition. Now, if only somebody would do something about this dang economy……!

Part One: Tattooing hasn’t always paid the bills.

That may sound hard to believe since tattoos are dang expensive.  People can pay hundres and even thousands of dollars for a sleeve or back piece or body suit. But like most businesses out there, the income is not steady. This is an industry that will thrive in the summer and virtually die in the winter. People don’t think about getting tattoos when it’s cold outside. They want to get them and show them off right away in the summer. I get it. It makes perfect sense.

When we first got together, he was always busy. He’d work late a lot of nights because the waiting room was packed with clients. I remember myself having to sit in the waiting room for over six hours to get my first tattoo. Tattoos were finding a new life in the up and coming generation. Cha-ching!

I’m not going to lie, the money was nice. It provided us with a pleasurable life. Who would’ve thought that I’d be a homeowner when I was only 21 years old, have nice cars and be able to be a stay at home mom? I wouldn’t have been able to if it wasn’t for the fact that business was booming then. Then…..that’s the operative word here. Like most things in life, the influx of clients didn’t last.

Business began to decline when Sofie was about two years old. There would be days when not a single person would walk through the studio door and then only one person for the entire week. I remember it like it was last week that he only brought home $50. We decided that I would start pounding the pavement for a job.

I was able to get a great job in a doctor’s office. The hours were perfect and it was amazing to be able talk to people that didn't use a sippy cup. Don’t get me wrong, being able to be a stay at home mom was a wonderful thing, but I did go a little stir crazy. Remember that big purple and green dinosaur that sang about how much he loved you? Well, he almost lost his life a few times.

We did have to put Sofie in daycare in order for me to work, but thankfully it was only part time. He would drop her off on his way to work around 11am and I was able to pick her up a few hours later. Having the part time rates wasn't too much of a sting to our wallets.

Working at the doctor's office helped supplement our income for a while. We were able to take vacations and splurge on things we normally wouldn't have before. It was nice. We finally felt like we were going to be okay. I did continue to work even after Gia was born. I enjoyed what I was doing and having the extra cash felt like a security blanket. It wasn't long before we were hit by slow times again and that security blanket flew off.

The parade of clients we had been getting used to was once again gone. And now with two kids in daycare, it was getting to be too much. We figured out that almost my entire years’ salary was going towards daycare fees with very little to spare at the end. It felt like we were just pissing our money away. We made the decision that it would be best if I could take time off from work and stay home with the girls until they went off to school.

We did our best to stick to the budget we set ourselves and save where we could, but unfortunately, that became too difficult. We resorted to credit cards. Oh, I know……bad idea, but we didn’t feel like we had much of a choice. Well, we did have another option....I'd get a second job.

I was able to land a job at a transitional shelter for women and children. It couldn't have been more perfect. I could walk or bike to work to save on gas and the hours I had were on Augie's days off.  It didn't take long before I was able to pick up extra shifts at the shelter. The extra shifts meant more money, but also meant less time that I would see Augie because my hours were now 11pm to 7am.

I would get home from work in time to shuffle the girls off to school (they were in public school by this point) and then I would head to bed. Augie left for work while I was sleeping and I would head back out to work 10:30pm, just as he was getting home. Somewhere in the middle of all of that I took care of the girls. That time in our lives remains much of a blur. I was on autopilot and would fall asleep if I stopped moving.

The tattoo gods shinned upon us once again and the studio started to show signs of life. Again, we thought things were looking good, but we figured we would proceed with caution. We decided that I would keep working and put that money into our savings just in case the studio slowed down yet again. We kept our fingers crossed as we focused on getting back on our feet. Thank goodness we were able to save because it wasn’t long before things got even worse.

Doc, Augie’s partner for almost 20 years, had passed away unexpectedly and his family decided to shut the studio down. In a blink of an eye, he was out of a job and I was the sole breadwinner. We were terrified. My income alone wasn’t enough to make ends meet and he couldn't obtain unemployment benefits because he was self-employed. We knew the money we had saved wasn’t going to last long. We needed to figure out what we were going to do…..and fast!

**WARNING….I DID MY BEST TO KEEP IT CLEAN**

I don’t know whether this should be considered a monumental event or just plain old pathetic, but I am somewhat proud that Augie and I part of the elite group of people that can say Danny Partridge has seen us naked.  I blame my lack of self-control for getting me to that moment where Mr. Bonaduce was free to gaze upon the perky twins and Augie’s, well, you know....

We were fans of his radio show on WLUP the Loop back in the early 90’s. We’d listen to him at the shop, in the car and at our apartment. We thought he was a hoot. On the night in question, I had his show on while waiting for Augie to get home from work.

Danny’s show was especially risqué that night….how to enhance your sex life. I was intrigued. I listened as all of the callers gush about their boyfriends putting flower petals in the bed….yuck…role playing….I suck at acting….and so on. None of these people had anything exciting or the slightest bit original to contribute. I couldn’t take this humdrum crap anymore. I picked up the phone.

Shemp, a sort of sidekick/program engineer kind of guy, picked up the phone. I began to have second thoughts the momet I heard his voice. Too late, I was committed. The words came out of me like vomit after too much Southern Comfort.

Yah…hi….I have a suggestion on how to make your sex life more exciting……..HAVE YOUR BOYFRIEND PIERCE HIS_____(fill in the blank). It was rather disturbing that I said it with such enthusiasm.

There was stone cold silence on the other end of the line. Hello?? It took Shemp a minute to gather his thoughts, I’m assuming, before he said that he was going have me talk to Danny. I knew Augie was on his way home and he was most likely going to be listening to my conversation with Mr. Bonaduce. Oh, crap…what am I doing?

Danny came on the line and bombarded me with questions about my suggestion. I remember being way too eager when explaining the whole thing to him. Thankfully, I don’t remember everything I said. Whatever I did say, it must have been intriguing enough for him to want us to come up to the radio station the following week. He said he wanted to see what I was talking about.

When Augie walked in the door, I was still on the phone. He had this look of what the f*ck did you do combined with a devious little smirk. Don’t be mad, honey! I’m doing my part for womankind. And besides, it’ll be a great plug for the studio! I swear.

When we got to the radio station, we were greeted by Diane, a fellow DJ. She was sweet. She reminded me of Stevie Nicks a bit. She took us back to the booth where we met Shemp. He went over FCC rules with us and pretty much begged us to keep it as clean as possible.

After a commercial break, Danny called us in to his radio booth. He explained to the audience why we were there and that his wife, Gretchen, would be joining us for the “unveiling.” Great! The more the merrier, right? Augie won’t mind. And he didn’t. Bless his heart.

At the unveiling, all you heard was a chorus of oh my god followed by a collective gasp. Back then, piercings like this were not well known. Nowadays, there are a whole lot more peters out there with a little bling. And the fact that neither of us looked like punks with mohawks, had facial piercings or had purple hair was even more shocking to them. We looked normal.

After things calmed down, Danny turned to me and asked me if I was pierced as well.. I told him that I was and asked if he’d like to see. Stupid question to ask a guy, I know. Like a stripper getting ready to climb the proverbial pole, I whipped my top off and tossed it on the floor. The surge of confidence I suddenly had came out of nowhere. Up until that point in my life, the only people that saw my boobs were Augie and my gynecologist.

The nudity wasn’t over yet. Danny saw the tattoo on my chest and asked if I had any more. That’s when I dropped trou and showed him the tiger on my butt and leg. To be fair, Danny then turned around and dropped his pants to show us the “onion” on his butt. I had no clue what the onion thing meant, but him and Augie did.I didn't care. I just continued to stare at his freckly butt.

The night came to a close with a dedication from Danny to us….”Illustrated Man” by Johnny Winter. And as we walked out, we heard him say to his listening audience that he was dedicating this song to his new best friends. Interesting….we haven’t heard from him since.

I met Augie just after Thanksgiving of 1991. By that Christmas, I had my first tattoo. I had a crystal ball being held by dragon claws put on my, let’s say the fleshier part of my chest. Inside of it has a beautiful mountain range with the ocean crashing against it and a sunset shinning down.  I thought it had a good balance of badass and pretty; edgy, yet subtle. Looking back, I should’ve put a lot more thought into placement....who knew that over time the circle would turn into an oval?

I came home all proud and cocky that I had this tattoo. I was inked! I was now a part of the tattoo community. I strutted in the house and announced to my parents what I had done. I expected them to be like, Wow! Cool, Aimee! You’re such a rebel. And I’d be all, Yah, I know! That’s not what happened. They both thought I had completely lost my mind. “What were you thinking? Don’t you realize that those things are permanent?”

A blind man could see that my mom was way madder than my dad. She was full on pissed off! She hadn’t met him yet and as I said before, she had a negative view of the tattoo world and the people that reside there. I was now one of those people. She saw it as me taking that step over to the dark side. She was so angry that she stopped speaking to me. This made for a rather uncomfortable holiday season, let me tell you. Fortunately, it didn’t last long.

Life went back to normal after about two weeks, thankfully. We were talking again and everything was fine. Little did she know, I was hit with the tattoo bug. I concussed! Put it this way, in a span of about six months, I was sporting five or so tattoos and had completely wiped out my savings account. And to top it all off, I kept every bit of it a secret from them for close to a year. Keeping the money thing secret wasn’t that difficult; trying to hide all of those tattoos….now that was a chore.

For those who have been tattooed before or know someone who has tattoos, you know that the healing process requires applying an ointment to the area for a few weeks. The ointment Augie had his clients use back then was A&D Ointment. That stuff reeks. If you’ve ever been around a kid with diaper rash, you’re probably familiar with that horrific smell.

My bedroom would permeate with this stuff every few weeks. And each time my mom would ask me, “What’s that smell coming from your bedroom?” I told her with freakish ease that it was a new lotion I was trying. She suggested I return it and get my money back. Down the line, when she’d smell it again, she would quizzically ask me why I hadn’t returned that nasty lotion. I would laugh it off and tell her that it didn't bother me. Liar, liar, pants on fire!

It wasn’t just the smell either. My clothes showed signs of being tattooed. The one I have on my back would stick to my t-shirts at night and leave a perfect imprint of the design (a wolf, howling at the moon) on the inside of it. I knew I couldn’t let her wash the shirts for obvious reasons and I hated doing laundry, so there was only one thing to do....throw my shirts out. That’s teenage logic for ya!

I resorted to tank tops to sleep in, but soon discovered the transfer of ink on my sheets. I couldn’t throw those out; she would certainly notice sheets missing and I had no money to buy my own because I spent all my money on tattoos. I thought for sure I was busted. Nope. She either didn’t notice or didn’t think anything of it.

The pungency of the ointment permiated tenfold that summer. That's when Augie started tattooing the tiger on my leg. This is the one that goes from my rear end to just above my knee that I mentioned earlier. This thing was so big that I went through the largest tube of ointment that the pharmacy sold by the time it was finished.  

I was convinced that my cover was going to be blown when I started wearing only pants when it was 90 degrees outside to hide it. I also walked with a limp after each tattoo session. My leg was so sore from being tattooed five to six hours at a time. My parents would ask me if my leg was okay and I would just tell them that I slept funny or I fell, always reassuring them that I would be fine. This cycle continued every two weeks for about two months.

I eventually came clean and confessed to my parents about all the tattoos I had gotten after they had met Augie and I was positive they wouldn’t get mad at him for tattooing me. Plus, I was getting real tired of hiding my tattoos. The tattoos didn't bother them as much as me hiding my dwindling bank account. That disappointed them more than anything.
 

It’s kind of funny though, to this day, the smell of A&D Ointment makes my mom’s stomach cringe. I actually can’t stand it either. Thankfully, the ointment company now makes an unscented version. Man, if they had that back then, that whole ordeal would’ve been a helluva lot easier! Well, at least a lot less smelly.