"Okay, so here's the deal. I was 20 years old and 6 months into a rocky marriage. I was incredibly insecure and for some reason I figured that if my husband had my name tattooed on him, then he'd suddenly became unattractive to other women. So, that's what I requested for my birthday. Of course, he wasn't about to go through with it unless he got a label on me as well. I agreed, only fair, right? Now, just to clarify, I did come to my senses before I got his name tattooed on my lower back. However, when I tried to back out we ended up in an argument where there was no way for me to win, short of. Long story made short, 2 years later I had his name on the small of my back and was awaiting the finalization of my divorce. So although it's taken me two years to get his name covered, it's done now. And I'm very happy with the end result. Heh… when the ex saw it he said, "Well, that sucks. Where's my name?" Yeah… and his mom swears he's a genius. "
Ah, I love a good story. Although her "Okay, so here's the deal" is dangerously close to my blog's unofficial catchphrase "okay, so here's the thing". You eyeballing me? I've got my eye on you, punk!
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