Rat a Tat Tat

On my personal scale of attraction, tattoos rank near the bottom -- below shaved bodies but above piercings. I have plenty of friends with tats, but they still give me the heebie-jeebies. Especially when I see them -- or think of them -- on aged flesh. Nothing like a wrinkled tiger or a puckered rose to turn me on. Maybe I had a traumatic childhood experience with a sailor that was completely stripped from memory.

To my squirmy amusement, a friend of a friend has a blog with a recurrent theme of unfortunate tattoos. Like this one, which hurts just to look at:


Pretty damn klassy, though, I have to admit.