Tag Archives: I AM COOL

Operation Be Like The Cool Kids: Phase 1

I apologise in advance to my ma, who will see this and react in the same way as when she saw my existing tattoo (that I’d had for approximately three years by that point. Nice to know my own mother NEVER EVEN LOOKS AT MY ARMS). Her reaction, by the by, was something like “whaaaa?”

I am cool. I totally have ‘ink’, as we cool kids call it. It is a silly little thing on the back of my arm, but I still think it’s quite good. It’s certainly not cool, though some people have remarked it is (it isn’t, even though I just said I’m cool), but it is most definitely unique. This is a key factor in what I am about to talk about… NOW.

I want my left arm tattooed more. I have always wanted this done, I have never had it done. For some reason I always wanted some shit down to about baseball shirt-length on the forearm. Maybe so I could still get a job in a bank, I don’t know. There are some reasons I have never had it done – laziness, lack of money, more laziness – but the one that stands out is the design.

I want something that looks good, that isn’t on the arm of every other monkey walking this planet and that means something to me on a personal level. This is where I fail. What means something to me? Looking at this blog I’d have to get a tattoo of some clementines, videogames, Bukowski quotes and a fair bit of swearing. Oh, and my face of course.

Then there’s having an artistic enough mind to design it. I came up with my existing tattoo, but it’s some dots and dashes in a circle. Any gibbon with an ounce of sense (or lack thereof, when it comes to me) could have ‘designed’ that. It would need to be something actually done with skill and flair, which are elements I cannot provide.

Basically I’m just thinking out loud here. I want something done, I want my arm to look bitchin’ for about 20 minutes until I get bored of it (and until I’m really old and it looks ‘well gay lah’ as the scousers would say). The arguments against that parenthesis-ified bit don’t work on me, by the way. I’m going to look haggard when/if I’m old, so what? I’m going to be shitting myself in public, who cares if I have some faded, wrinkly designs on my arm?

Submit your designs to the usual address.

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Soft jazz and lukewarm coffee

I’ve reduced myself to a level I never though possible – I am, right now, as I write this, taking part in the complete wankerism that is ‘sitting in Starbucks and writing on your computer as if you have anything important to say or do in your life’. As we all know, I have nothing important to say, and I certainly don’t have anything important to do in my life. Ho hum.

Fortunately, I am keeping the twat genes at bay as well as I can. For one, I look like I do. It’s hard to be seen as any kind of hipster, wannabe twat when you look like someone haphazardly shaved an ewok and kicked it backwards through a TK Maxx. As such, the judgements people rest on my shoulders are less likely to be ‘hipster twat’ and more along the lines of ‘twat twat’. Honestly, I think that’s fair.

Second, I am not using a twat calling card in the shape of a Mac. Yes, I am aware I should get over this nonsense and accept things like Ash says – it’s manufactured loyalty drummed up by bullshit marketing. Alright, maybe he said it differently to that. I’m not checking. But not having a Mac in a Starbucks and not looking like a hipster twat must make me look out of the ordinary in this setting.

In fact, I’ve just realised what I am: THE GREATEST PERSON IN STARBUCKS.

Either that or the caffeine is having a stronger effect on me than I thought it would. SHEESH.

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