Breaking the Rules

Today I went and hung out with this tattoo artist hippy dude I met on Craigslist. I responded to an ad he posted. I broke my rule about spelling and punctuation and grammar actually (it has to be at least as good as mine because, hey, if I could teach myself how to write decently so can any bloke). His ad was short, but something about it was appealing. It was unassuming.

Anyhow. I met him at his boat, where he lives. It is actually moored about three minutes from my office. It was this sweet little 29 foot sail boat with beautiful old hardwood details and a homey interior. I met his three legged cat, which of course made me feel like we had a connection since I have a three legged dog. We went and wondered around a nearby flea market where I found a funky little kitchen table for ten bucks. Then we went back to his boat and I looked at pictures of work he's done. A lot of it was on girls' tummies and pubic area. He said he is short on work and would do some inking for me for reduced rate. I would actually take him up on it if I could only fricken decide what I want. I would have to have it on my ass though since I don't think my droopy old lady tummy would make a good canvas.

Anyway. It was fun. He reminded me of men from my childhood in the Haight in the 60's.

Then I went and hung out with Trax and her friends. We carved pumpkins and drank wine. I told them my Chico story and the conversation pretty much stopped. I guess not everyone fucks married men from their gym in their spare time. My bad.