Design me a tattoo! I don't have one, but I think I would like one. Here are my specifications:
1. Just one color, black.
2. Location: either between my shoulders, or the ever-cliche lower back.
3. Approximate size: about . . . oh, I don't know, three to four inches wide, two to three inches tall. Boviously I'll scale the thing once it's done, but, you know, just to give you an idear.
4. General shape: in keeping with the natural cizznurves of my bod-ay. I'm thinking kind of triangular with the point pointed down, but the sides all swoopy and arc-like curving inward, you know? That's just a general guideline, though, if you come up with something cooler, then by all means. I'm just a fucking engineer, what do I know.
5. Okay, important part: text. "ALIA IACTA EST". Doesn't have to be all caps. Translation: "The die is cast". Dude who said it: Caesar himself, baby. When: when he was crossing the Rubicon to head back into Rome with his army. Meaning: once a decision is made, fucking roll with it, baby. That's my mantra right there. I may make some really awful decisions, but you can rest assured that I'm going to follow through.
6. To sum up: so, I figure, the text in the middle, and then maybe some interesting linework around it to make it nice and shapely and symmetrical. But like I sez, I'm not the artist, YOU are. As long as the text is in there, you can do whatever the fuck you want.
Okay, so . . . GO! Boviously if I'm not thrilled with it, I'm not going to get it permanently put on my butt just to be polite, so plese don't be offended if you're rejected. Or maybe I'll almost like it and ask for some revisions. But c'mon, man, wouldn't you like to be immortalized on my back? Possibly right near my izass? Think of the audience that thing'll get . . .
Oh, and if your design is chosen, of course you will be compensated, in a work of either amateur carpentry or hardcore bakery or sexual favory, whichever you prefer.
Okay, the more I reread this entry, the more I hate it. I mean, I don't actually expect any responses, because . . . well, because I was so obnoxious about it. But hey, my fingers still smell from the mincing of the ginger and the garlic last night, and I like it, and I keep smelling them, all day. Who needs a tattoo?
Okay, the more addendums I addend, the more irrelevant that first comment is down there. Just so's you know, Ill's referring to the "audience" I mentioned. Dur.