So, tattoos. I’ll openly tell you I have none. Twice I almost went through with it to get some extensive art adorning my body that would adorn my body forever. One of these planned visits to mutilate my body for the rest of my life was to get gargoyle wings covering my back. I chickened out because I hate needles and the sessions with those needles sounded like organized torture.
Well, my hat is off to Deebo Samuel. Because he has this:
Boy, I hope he doesn’t play for a team with the No. 19 retired. Don’t get me wrong, I hope he stays with the 49ers and forces them to retire another number, but just in case I hope he doesn’t land somewhere where 19 isn’t going to fly. I also like how he has his draft number on there as well as the NFL logo. That’s awesome.
I don’t want to know how sleeping after getting that felt, but I can only assume there was some tenderness after the sessions to get this sweet ink on his back.
This is a tattoo I can get behind. It’s of a life-changing moment in Samuel’s life. I may still get a tattoo of something significant one day. Right now, I doubt it but never say never.
If you want to see bad tattoos, I think this one pretty much sums it up.
At 35, I do regret not getting my tattoo. No, no the gargoyle wings. That was my love of metal and AFI. I still love both, but I also have traded in band shirts for sweaters and polos. The tattoo I regret not getting was a sleeve of the entire first level of Super Mario Bros. Now THAT would have been awesome.
But again, needles. Part of me wants to know just how many working hours went into this sweet piece of body art, but I’m just not sure if I’m prepared for the answer.