I have an overwhelming urge to tattoo myself, basically at all times.

I have exactly zero tattoos.

I have threatened to get any number of tattoos over the years, a fact of which no one is quite so acutely aware as my dear friend Brad, who has drawn for me–at my request and even once combined with cash as a wedding gift–no fewer than four different tattoos.

If I were to walk into a bar around here, I would likely be the Most Famous Person in the place.

That’s not saying too much, of course, and since I don’t drink, I haven’t tested it. And also, I suspect that Harley ownership, tooth loss and/or neck tattoos may be required in order to gain entry into any bar in my town, so they wouldn’t let me in.