Now I don’t want you to think that I’m one of those spinster types that keep photos of their pets on their desk and as screensavers and yes, I know pets and kids are never quite as good looking in reality as you’d like to think they are, but mine is.
My only wish is that he was big enough for me to mount and ride him.
Imagine that Jermaine, me arriving at your place on my giant domestic cat. I would never need to tie him up because he’d only ever serve one master and we’d be able to communicate in much the same way that only Han Solo could understand Chewbacca.
He’d be like that bloody horse of the National Bank ads too and just appear when you least expected, watching, always watching. Like Aslan the lion only less Christian. At night I would ride him bareback through the fields, holding on only by handfuls of his white fur as his muscular legs propelled us through the long grass.
Later we would wash the excitement off by bathing together in the lake which is not at all odd because my cat really does dig water; he’ll often hop in the shower or dip his paws in a bath. See I told you, he’s awesome.
If I ever got round to having a tattoo I’d seriously contemplate having him on one arm and our other cat on the other. Not as in a gay Lassie portrait kind of way, but in a Chris Garver tiger sprawling up each arm way. That would be awesome. Tattoos are awesome. I wish I had one.
The reason I never got a tattoo for a long time is that I feared little things, like pain, and looking like a complete peen-arse because I’ve got skinny extremities and a kick arse tattoo definitely loses some, if not all, of its coolness when etched on the guns of a nine year old.
For a long time I was comfortable in telling myself that that was the reason but then it dawned on me that far skinnier, far weaker and far more tragic peeps than I have been tattooed and they look awesome.
Except the bogan at my school that lied about his age so that he could get a tat a full year before he was legally allowed to.
He went to one of those parlours where everyone who works there looks like they have Hepatitis and as you’ll find out a few months later, they did. His tat sucked and looked ridiculous on his skinny, pale arm, especially when he wore his sleeveless flannelette shirt on freezing cold days, just so he could show us all his ink stain. What a winner.
Tattoo wearing is very much in vogue these days. Everybody seems to have at least one and isn’t afraid to show them, as a mark of their individuality as much as it is art and I like that, I really do. If there’s one thing that excites me more than riding my cat bareback it’s a girl with a spectacularly cool sleeve, or two.
But there’s a small, nagging irony in this whole thing that I just can’t seem to get over; people get tattooed to express their individuality but yet consume the same products en masse that make them far from an individual i.e. cell phones, iProducts, clothes etc.
Once upon a time people got tattooed because it really did make them stand out, so much so that society shunned them. Now I can’t help but think people get tattooed because everyone else is. So now I have another reason as to why I won’t be getting one any time soon and I feel strangely contented with it.
P.S. Your new sleeve is awesome KB. Like the song, you are the only exception.
Noticed.
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