Tomorrow's my annual adventure to the local amusement park, Kennywood. Where wooden roller coasters still clack onward... And Potato Patch fries are slathered in a delightful day-glo orange cheese that was only once vaguely acquainted with a cow.
How I love it!
But our discussion today will not entail just how many chili cheese dogs it's possible to eat before extending them in altered form to the coaster population as a whole...
Or about taking bets on how long the kid in the Garfield costume can stand 80% humidity before smothering in a pile of sweat, faux fur and chickenwire...
Or even predicting the Rorschach pattern of bruises I'll have after three rounds of jouncing around on the Exterminator. (Once I got an excellent seatbelt buckle-shaped bruise on my butt!... It kinda looked like Spongebob.)
But nope. Today, I want to talk to you about tattoos.
See, the one thing I've come to notice, as I wend my way through Kennywood's mouse-maze of ride queues, is that somehow I have come to be the only person in the entire tri-state region who isn't inked.
Grandmas sporting the barbed wire... Teens unveiling the disembodied heads of the Jonas Brothers... Hog-riders flapping Harley wings... Infants showing off that edgy Gerber logo, symbolizing their induction into those tough pre-school gangs...
Yes, one and all, they are branded with their interests... wearing their image on their sleeve. Or 48-inch waist. Or whatnot.
And then there's me.
But, see, the thing about tattoos is, they're pretty much forever. I'd want to really be certain about anything I put on myself until the end of time. I mean, I haven't even had the same shade of hair for more than six weeks sequentially...
How can I commit to something likely to hang around so much longer than that Spongebob seat buckle butt bruise?
So here's where you folks can help. If I were to get a tattoo and blend in with my fellow amusement enthusiasts, what should I choose?
Here are some of the things I was thinking about:
The Monroeville Zombies logo.
It says local. It says undead. And anyone who sees how pale I am would find it entirely believable. Plus, y'know, nobody wants to mess with someone who might, potentially, try to nibble your arm. I imagine I could get through those long concession and ride lines much quicker!
Old King Cole Slaw.
Marketing promotion meets body art! And it would end up being such a conversation piece!
Stranger: "So-- what's with the crown-wearing lettuce?"
Me: (sniff) Lettuce?! It's so clearly a cabbage! And what's with your Woody Woodpecker? I mean, he hardly had the charisma and talent of Bugs Bunny, did he?
See? I'd be destined to make all sorts of new friends!
The only drawback? Old King Cole Slaw becoming famous like this... well, he'd be likely to develop a big head. He'd be charging me for appearances here... Copping an attitude about the temperature in the crisper drawer... I don't know. I see trouble ahead.
Some Kind of Symbol I May Or May Not Know What It Means.
So often I see people with Chinese or Japanese characters, or swirls or Celtic knots, and I think it's so amazing and impressive how well-versed everyone seems to be in all these other cultures and languages.
I mean, how else could you guarantee that in Japanese it didn't say something like, "I'm an overweight, Japanese-illiterate American. Kick me"?
Now, me, unfortunately, I don't know Japanese or Chinese, or as much as I should about Celtic knots and ancient runes. So, to ensure the symbol I chose actually meant something-- even if I didn't know what it was-- I thought I would tap into the greatest, most extensive symbolic repository I knew--
The Wingdings font I have in Word.
There just seem to be so many options! I'm leaning toward one of those curlicue squigglies, or perhaps the file folder symbol. Either one of them could totally say "me."
What do you think?
Well, I'm anxious to hear your opinions. I suppose if I don't make a decision in time for tomorrow's amusement park outing, I can always save it for next year...
Sure, I'll be the only woman under 50 without a giant Tweety-bird on my boob. But good art takes time.
Hmmm... I wonder how I'd look with a cartoon sheep?....