There's no way this can end badly (Part 1)
This is the story of the time I tattooed the phrase "Will Screw For Beer" on my arm and went to Sydney.
I suppose I should start from the beginning.
When I was first learning the ins-and-outs of my trade, I did a fair bit of experimenting on my own arm, trying out different shading techniques and soforth. The plan was to eventually colour my entire forearm black anyway, so I figured I could have some fun with it before the
inevitable filling in. Why have a black forearm? Why the fuck not.
Traditionally, if you're doing lots of heavy black tattoo work you write something funny in it before covering it. A temporary tattoo of sorts. Eg. A friend of mine was working on a heavy-black shoulder piece and his then-girlfriend wanted him to get her name tattooed. So he did it on his shoulder, and when they inevitably broke up (not two weeks later) he just covered it with more black. It's usually very effective. Another guy I know got "I'm a black cunt" written on his leg before covering it two weeks later.
So, I figured I would follow tradition and get something stupid written on my arm. The band I was in at the time were preparing to go on a short tour to play a few shows in Newcastle and Sydney the following week, and somebody dared me to get the band name done. "Bewilderbomb". No sweat. Done. Hmm, there's heaps of room left. How aboot extending it to "Bewilderbomb World Tour 06". Done.
Still heaps of room left. Thought processes start ticking over. I'm going on tour. It's a short tour, but I'm going to want to ruin lots of loose women and drink lots of free beer. How can I advertise this fact?
You know how in cartoons a lightbulb appears when somebody has a good idea? I don't see lightbulbs. I see ten foot tall fucking neon signs. Sometimes these neon signs are so bright and intense that they make me ignore the part of my brain that is telling me not to go ahead with an idea. It's kind-of understandable though, after all, I do have a fascination with glowing things, especially if they somehow remind me of strippers.
The neon sign appeared to me. For some unknown reason it was written in a retarded child's handwriting. It spelled the immortal words "WILL SCREW FOR BEER". A grin formed on my face.
Yes, that was really tattooed on my forearm.
I was all set to go on tour. I'd been budgeting for a couple of months. I'd lined up mutiple places to crash in Sydney, and had been busy tuning internet girls for potential hook-ups. New guitar strings, new leads, pretty much everything was planned perfectly. There was no way it could go wrong.
Mere hours later, I was lying in a hospital bed.
To be continued on Wednesday...
nice one brother[