An ink-stained newspaperman

As an old ink-stained newspaperman who goes back to the days of manual Underwood typewriters, I’ve usually felt that ink belongs on paper, not skin.

But I won a motorcycle poker run a couple of years ago and the first prize was a choice of $300 worth of tattoos or body piercing.

I opted for the certificate for the tats but never got around to cashing in the thing until recently when I dropped by Asylum Studios in Roanoke to see if it was still valid.

Asylum graciously agreed to honor the the gift certificate and set up an appointment for this Friday to let tattoo artist Daniel Jones put needle to skin and decorate my right arm.

Jones is an artist with a solid reputation and his designs are varied.  I’ve narrowed it down to a couple and will decide when I sit down to go under the needle on Friday.

And before someone asks, getting a new tat won’t be a problem for Amy.  She has more ink on her skin than me.

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