The Only Tattoo Missing is Herve Villechaize

Attention all aspiring tattoo artists:
If you're looking for a storefront to start your soon-to-be thriving small business, allow me to suggest you set up shop just off the premises of the Northeast YMCA.
Sincerely,
A Disgruntled Observer

Though it's probably hard to believe if you've never actually shared the same glorified bathtub with the current waterpark clientele, I'd estimate the existing ratio of tattoos to human beings to be 4 to 1...as in every man, woman and child averages 4 visible tattoos. Some of these mudcats look like they're hoping to be discovered by the film crew of Miami Ink who accidentally take a 1,400-mile wrong turn.

Over the summer the fam and I make frequent trips to the waterpark. First of all, it's right down the street. Second, it's $80 a month and since we don't work out at the Y, which is obvious if you've ever seen us at the waterpark, this is how we justify the expense. On my most recent visits I'm noticing a disturbing trend: Tattoos as pervasive as civil war in Africa. I mean, good night. You could watch a decade of NBA all star games back to back and not see this many tattoos.

I'm not anti-tattoo, don't get me wrong. My wife has 2 tattoos. But I think tattoos, especially visible tattoos, make a much stronger statement about a person than other forms of temporary body decorations, like piercings or ridiculous hair styles. Getting a tattoo used to require some forethought. Now apparently everyone gets a tattoo at middle school graduation.

There are three categories of tattoos:

1. The peek-a-boo - This tattoo is generally small, not much larger than a Susan B. Anthony dollar (what an odd reference) and typically situated in a area of the body that's easily concealed, such as the ankle, the pelvic area or the scalp if you're a white supremacist just trying to feel out your new neighbors since you shave your head over the summer.
2. The statement maker - This tattoo is larger and usually visible at almost all times. It's usually large so it demands a lot of real estate, like most of an arm, an upper or lower back. A notable exception would be Mike Tyson's face tattoo. The statement maker is often unaccompanied by other tattoos that distract the viewer's attention. That's why it's the statement maker. It says, "Look at me at your own peril, Chachie, because I will end you."
   
3. The dormitory bulletin board - this is what I'm seeing a lot of at the YMCA. People with multiple large tattoos completely unrelated to one another, like a bulletin board in a dorm with a million different fliers. Hey, I need a roommate! Hey, my bike got stolen! Hey, free condoms! These tattoos scream out, but they are all so prominent they scream at the same time. It's like driving through the front window glass of a nail salon and having 8 asian women screaming at you in korean. You can't make out what anyone is saying. It's just loud.

Everybody at the YMCA waterpark seems to have a tattoo of the dormitory bulletin board variety. Picture a wading pool and a jungle gym in the middle of Sing Sing and you begin to get an idea. It's bordering on ridiculous if you ask me. I guess it beats dudes in speedos. (Stupid euros and their tiny swim trunks covering up their tiny european junk.)

Midnight Snack

Here I am, it's 11:29 pm, and I'm about to polish off a medium pizza. I'd never recommend eating anything at midnight, let alone an entire medium pizza, but in fairness, this is only my third meal in two days. I've missed lunch two consecutive days thanks to my job being a complete ass ache following my time out of the office most of last week. Oh, and I don't eat breakfast.

So, anyhoo...anyone tired of hearing about A-Rod already?

Little (at) Caesars

I'm coming to you live from Caesars Palace as the sun sets in Las Vegas. Though I've been here for just under 24 hours, already this has been a strange and eventful trip. When I left Louisville, it was a balmy 20 degrees or so. Here it's almost 70, although I've not actually been outside to confirm. Like most casinos in Vegas, to get outside you have to crawl through several heating ducts, jump through several fiery hoops and answer a series of riddles posed to you by a transvestite near the revolving doors. If you answer all of the riddles correctly, one of which involves trigonometry, your name is entered into a lottery. From that pool of names, Caesars allows one person to leave every hour, usually in an ambulance. Hoping my name comes up by Saturday before my plane leaves.

Speaking of the plane, that was an adventure unto itself. If you thought a guy passing out in the aisle was the weirdest thing that happened, you'd be wrong, my friend. In fact, the strangest thing I saw was the woman in the row ahead of me and to my right plugged headphones into her laptop and watched that sled dog movie with Cuba Gooding Jr. Hell, I almost passed out when I saw how much she was enjoying it.

I ate supper by myself at a Japanese restaurant in the casino. Fried rice sounded good. The meal I ordered from my waitress that spoke not only in broken english, but also spoke very quietly, apparently came with steamed rice. $49 for a meal without fried rice. Thank you, large conglomerate that owns the casino. I'll be taking all of the free shampoos and soaps when I leave.

My room has a bidet. It's my first experience with a bidet. Not that I've used it. I just mean it's the first time I've been in close proximity to a fully functional bidet. I might give it a try, you know, if at any point my private parts get really dirty. There's that big sandbox right outside of Bobby Flay's restaurant. I might throw on a speedo and go roll around in there for a few minutes.

Having learned from my previous visit to Vegas during the first weekend of March Madness in 2007, I've decided to curtail my sportsbook wagering. I'm no longer betting on over/unders. I was 1 for 13 last time. Think about that for a minute: an over/under bet is a 50/50 proposition. You either win or lose. Going one for 13 is like flipping a coin 14 times and being right one time. Instead I'm betting heavy on fewer games rather than hedging my bets with multiple smaller bets. As of now, I'm up a whopping $22 having correctly picked New Mexico to beat Wyoming by more than 15. They won by 29 and I won $22. Sweet. I have Syracuse for another $20 and I'm giving a point and a half. With 5:00 left, Syracuse leads by 10. Double sweet.

The conference itself has been interesting so far if not exactly applicable to my job. I spent nearly six hours in seminars today with topics ranging from physician communication to building a physician portal to applying political-style marketing to healthcare. If you're in healthcare it's interesting. If you're not, it probably sounds like reading a mexican phone book. Montoya, Enigo...Valdes, Juan...you get the idea.

Well, that's all for tonight. I'm heading to the Bellagio in a little while for a meal with one of our vendors. Maybe I can get fried rice at the Mediterranean restaurant.

Facebook is a harsh mistress

There's something ironic about having been pushed to Facebook by collective peer pressure at the age of 34 and having reconnected with so many of my high school friends. Then again, I don't recall giving into much peer pressure in high school. How else to explain why I was a complete tool. My avoidance of most things other people seemed to enjoy led me from high school to four exciting years in college with nearly the same girlfriend and no stories, good or bad, involving drugs and/or alcohol. On the bright side, the first time one of my daughters calls home drunk in college she won't be able to say, "Oh, dad, I know you and mom used to do it all the time!" That statement will be half true but she don't gots to know that.

Facebook has been a little bit of a revelation. I've avoided it for quite a while and for exactly the reasons I mention above: because most people seem to like it. I didn't want to be "that guy." But, the fact is, if nothing else it allows you to manage friendships, past and present, with the proper amount of distance in almost anonymity. I think I'm going to enjoy this. It's a mostly pleasurable walk down memory lane. Girls I haven't talked to in decades, guys I haven't seen since the early '90s. It hadn't been written yet, but if there was a song to sum up my high school year's in their entirety, I'd have to go with Ben Folds' "Best Imitation of Myself." It's not a perfect match, but I connect with Ben a little bit in that song. Who knows.

Back in the present, I'm glad to have power and internet access. My satellite has been searching for a signal for most of the afternoon leaving us time to catch up on shows we've DVR'd. It's back to work in the a.m. regardless of the road conditions.

Snow Day!

Nothing takes me back to when I was a kid like snow. I love snow. To borrow a phrase from Tracy Morgan, "I want to take it behind the middle school and get it pregnant." I love snow even more these days because my kids like snow, too. My oldest daughter gets crazy when it flurries. She's convinced even the least little bit is going to be a blizzard. Then again, the only snow she can remember before this one was about 10 inches.

Anyway, today the snow completely threw off my work schedule, but in a good way. Only half the office showed up and those who did went home early, including me. I pretended to work when I got home by walking around with my blackberry. Instead I watched last night's House and The Pineapple Express. We'll see what happens with the weather tonight as to whether I actually venture out tomorrow or not. I think I'll watch Baby Mama tonight.

I started work last night on that children's book I mentioned earlier. I think the children's book market is ripe for soft-core pornography. I kid. Seriously though, Sunday I started on the general illustration and yesterday I started work on the story. That and my $7 meal at McDonald's are the signs of me turning over a new leaf.

Saturday...in the park...I think it was the 4th of July

None of that headline is true beyond the fact that it's Saturday. I'm at home with the girls this morning. I hesitate to say I'm babysitting. So many people get all up in arms about whether you can actually babysit your own children. Today they're acting like perfect little angels, which leads me to believe these may actually be someone else's children, so let's say I'm babysitting.

Speaking of kids, I've been thinking more and more recently about trying to write a children's book. I asked for art supplies for Christmas - mainly just a few sets of pencils and a nice art pad - and I've really been wanting to combine my previous art skillz (the ones that never paid the billz) with some kind of writing. Since I tend to be pretty juvenile, it seemed like a natural fit: I'll write a children's book.

I've spent the week trying to come up with an idea and I think I'm slowly developing one. It'd be about kids that work office jobs while their parents go to daycare of some sort. I'm thinking these kids work a white color job in an ad agency. It would be set in the future, but only by a few years, yet one kid - maybe the main kid - wears a space suit and doesn't like being asked to explain it. I'm thinking the kids would be between 3 and 5. Old enough to actually accomplish some stuff, but too young to get the irony.

So, anyway, I've been hoping to carve out some time start with some preliminary sketches of each of the characters. Start assigning them some traits, maybe flesh out a rough story. I'm thinking maybe 1,200 words or so and maybe 20 pages. The right audience would be my oldest daughter's age and she just turned four. Who knows, maybe I can pull this off.

An Historic Day

What a long, strange ride the last eight years have been. As I'm typing this, former President George W. Bush's helicopter is leaving the capitol headed for St. Andrews Air Force base. From there he and Laura will head home to Texas. And so ends his tumultuous two terms as President. I can't help feel a little melancholy about Bush's departure. I voted for him twice, but I was far from his biggest fan by the end of his second term. Still, I think he served as President in the best way he knew how. Sure, you can take issue with his ideals, his choices, even his belligerence or ignorance. But I think Bush is a principled man, a hard working man who cares deeply for this country, and he's leaving office under not just a cloud of embarrassment, but a full on hailstorm. He'll go down in history, at least over the short term, as the least popular President in history. He leaves as a housewarming gift for President Obama both a lingering war and a lingering recession. His legacy is one of complete and utter failure. I think that's sad.

As for Obama, welcome Barrack to your sweetest dream and your worse nightmare. You inherit and awful set of circumstances to rectify. And quickly. These problems aren't of your making, but you'll no doubt be held accountable even over only four years for finding quick and long-lasting solutions.

Today's inauguration was breathtaking. The speech was magnificent. The spectacle was nearly unmatched in my lifetime. This goes down as one of the seminal events of my 34 years. It's right there with the explosion of the Challenger and 9-11. Fortunately, this is an historic event that we should all remember fondly. Welcome, all, to a new age.

PS. Dear Barack, please keep gas prices low.