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.