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    Through conversations with my bff about tattoo design, I realized that my major motivation was external rather than internal. I wanted to turn myself into someone worthy of interest. Someone worth noticing. What a terrible reason to make a permanent change, virtually guaranteeing that it would be filled with regret not too far down the road. I gave myself a pass. No tattoos this time. No piercing, either. Just a lot of talk with my bff. We did look at tattoo designs (mostly what not to wear) and I've made my choice for next time. And we followed another friend's Flat Nephew around, photographing his exploits à la Flat Stanley. Although he engaged in more bucolic pursuits that I will share later, he was also spotted behaving badly:

...emerging from a seedy motel...
...outside the strip joint...
(in case you couldn't read the sign on the other photo--
my hands were shaking! It was so scandalous!)
...and outside the tattoo parlor...