Yup, the magazine's still around.
It looks graphically different and is a whole lot thinner, but there's still interesting,
condensed articles and jokes in it.
I read a joke on their "Laugh :)" page and it reminded me of my tattoo story.
If I remember correctly, this "Laugh :)" page used to be called
"Laughter Is The Best Medicine" back in the day.
Guess the titles got thinner too.
Hey, remember when Reader's Digest had all the article titles and the page numbers on the front cover?
Remember when you would take your finger and scroll down the front cover finding your favorite section or an article with an interesting title name?
And remember scrolling your finger over to the right had side to the page number and then flipping right away to that page?
Remember when I bored you to death talking about Reader's Digest?
So here's the Tattoo Jokes
from the June/July 2011 edition of Reader's on the "Laugh:)" page
Courtesy of Darren C. Addy on mcsweeneys.net
Tats Not Right
If truth-in-advertising laws governed our tattoos, here's what the ink would actually say:
- Still in my rebellious rite-of-passage phase.
- I anticipate always feeling as whimsical as I was when I chose this.
- Thinking-ahead deficient.
- Personal names on my body are not necessarily indicative of my relationship with that person when you read this.
- I regretted this one almost immediately.
- It may be wrong to assume that I know what this symbol represents.
- Actively taking a role in reducing the number of potential places that might employ me.
Those jokes made me laugh hard because almost everyone knows someone who has a tattoo symbol but can't quite explain the meaning.
Or a name of an ex-important person in their life tattooed somewhere on their skin.
And how many times have you looked at someone's tattoo and in your head went, "Eeewww, wonder what they were thinking?"
(That was a lie when I said Megan Fox was my twin sister).
But the following story is not a lie, nor is it impressively funny or even interesting.
But Ima tell it anyway.
Escorted Out Of The Joint
Back in 1999 at the age of 35, I was on a one week vacation from my job in my former life in Iowa City. I remember feeling like a rich person not having to go into my emotionally draining, stressball job for a week.
The first day off I thought I would go to Cedar Rapids and surprise my friend at her job and take her out to lunch. I went to her workplace but she was at a conference all week.
So I did what any other normal person would do.
I went and got a tattoo.
On a whim.
Because I am whimsical like that.
Yup, that's me, old whimsy Angie, crazy fun gal that she is. Yup.
Crazy all right.
Old biker lady replied that it depends on where you get the tattoo. I asked where does it hurt the least. She pulled up the leg of her short a little bit and pointed to her upper front leg. Uh, I definitely knew I didn't want a tattoo there after seeing hers. I asked where the next least painful spot was. She said the ankle.
I said "All right, let's do it!"
That was mistake #1.
So I picked out what I thought was a cute butterfly from the tattoo binders.
On my ankle.
That was mistake #2.
Just call me The Least Original Person Ever. If anyone ever has an award for that, please let me know, because Ima nominate myself.
The owner guy took my money and told me to sit in the tattoo chair in the waiting area.
That was mistake #3; having the tattoo carved on my ankle while sitting in the waiting room tattoo chair while several young people wait their turn.
Tattoo Parlor's mistake #1.....Tattooing on me in the waiting room where several young people are waiting their turn.
The tattoo artist (the owner, an older guy, at the time probably 48, boy did my definition of "older" suddenly become older when I got older) takes his 1970's woodburning kit out (IT FELT LIKE A WOODBURNING KIT FROM WHEN YOU WERE A KID!! You know what I mean) and started outlining the butterfly.
It immediately hurt like heck!!!! I have low pain tolerance and it was awful!!! I'm not kidding you!!! I thought I was gonna die. I was having heart palpitations and I broke out in a bad sweat. It burned like someone was taking one of those long lighted fireplace matches and carving a masterpiece into my ankle. I am not kidding you, that is the honest to goodness truth!!! It was awful!!!
I started screaming and yelled at him to stop!! He said, "You're fine".
I yelled, "No I'm not. I'm having heart palpitations, it's terrible!!! I want you to stop right now!"
He kind of harumphed at me and said it can't be that bad. I said it is. I asked how far along he had gotten, I was just sure most of the tattoo had been carved and I could go home.
Well, he had gotten the two antennas done.
That's it, just two tiny 1/8 inch antennas. Of the butterfly.
On my ankle. Permanent antennas. Right there. For all the world to see. Two black lines with dots at the top.
I asked if those lines were permanent.
He said yes.
I said I have to take a few minutes to decide if I want to continue.
I glance over at the young people in the waiting room and I kid you not,
had eyes as big as UFO saucers and scared/concerned looks on their faces.
Every.single. one.of them.
One girl said, "Ma'am, does that hurt?" in a real small voice.
The owner said gruffly, "You'll be fine. Just watch the TV up there and take your attention away from the tattoo. Can we continue?" he asked meanly.
I thought a few more minutes and said "Okay." So I sit back down, look up at the TV high up on the wall, and guess what is playing to take my mind off the severe destruction taking place on my ankle.....
That medical show with Jack Klugman where he was an M.E.
Which stands for Medical Examiner!!!
And he was performing an autopsy!!
Oh my, oh my, oh my, oh my!
After more screaming and pain (no exaggeration), the dude was finally finished with my tattoo.
A couple of the kids in the waiting room had gotten up and left by this time. No kidding.
I had already paid, so the owner dude quickly ushered me up to the front desk to sign a paper stating that I received instructions on caring for the newly applied tattoo.
I noticed there were earrings, piercing things and such up by the front desk while I was reading the care instructions. Pretty, shiny things. And I am a sucker for anything pretty and shiny. I asked biker lady chick and the owner dude a couple questions about getting my ears double pierced and both people said at the same time that they didn't have time to talk to me about piercings, that I don't want any.
Then one of them took me by the arm (I can't remember which one, it happened so quickly) and walked me out the front door onto the sidewalk and told me goodbye.
And that is the absolute truth about how I got my white trash tattoo.
I'll bet they wouldn't have escorted Megan Fox outside like that.