See Part 1 here
I am pleased to announce that the new tats have healed beautifully just in time for the holidays. There will be no showing off this year I'm sure. Last year was my first big one (several others have been in place for some time) and it was just so beautiful I had to show it off. This year, well, lets just say I'm over the showing off of big new beautiful tattoos. I will wear my long sleeved shirts like a respectable woman and save the showing off for punk rock bars and blogging.
I still love the new ones a lot. I miss the old ones they now cover. Please see photos in Part 1. I guess I missed them for the first time last Saturday when Mike and I went out to dinner and bumped into a group of guys we had recently played cards with. There were about 20 guys in all at the restaurant for a bachelor's party. I had recently beaten the groom in a poker tournament. He was seated at the head of the table and started telling the guys that he was still upset over his loss and that I am "a really really good card player." He then began to tell the story of how I walked into the tournament wearing a long sleeved shirt and halfway through rolled up my sleeves and "bam, a heart and a spade. We all new we were screwed. She's a fuckin' shark!"
I just smiled and looked pretty but informed the men that I have since covered the 'ol shark tattoos. At that point another guy I beat in the tourney offered to buy me a margarita. Of course I said his generosity was not necessary but graciously accepted. He bought my drink and whispered in my ear, 'at least let me pretend I'm doing ok next time,' and smiled.
The truth is, I'm no shark. I'm decent. I'm the grand daddy shark to the people I play against is all. I hold my own in Atlantic City but even then, there are no grand players playing at the 2,4 table. I firmly believe playing cards and gambling is in my blood. I've been playing some form of cards since I was a kid and my brother and I were compulsive gamblers at 13 and 16. We bet on everything from dice to fooz ball to seeing who could throw a quarter at the wall and have it land closest to the molding.
Before moving to Philly, my friends and I were in the heart of the Texas Hold 'em trend. We played almost nightly until about three in the morning. (You can do that when you all work at the same restaurant together and don't have to be at work until either 11:00 am or 4:00 pm.) I've taught over a dozen people how to play.
Back to my tattoos, I admit it, I miss the tattoos that led people to believe or assume I was a card player. I guess those tattoos meant something. I admit they brought me respect...at least at a card table. They were fun. They needed to be covered, but they were fun. Perhaps something similar is in order just in a new spot and oh yeah, lots more flash. Maybe something that looks like 1955 Vegas vomited on my arm. Flash art, horseshoe, showgirl, royal flush. Ohhhhhh baby!