I have to admit that the days following my barbwire tattoo around my right biceps I thought I was pretty hard. I walked around, no sleeves, just daring people to look at me wrong. I was inked, a member of the bad ass club of tattoo toughs. The tattoo clearly showed just how thuggish of an individual I really am. Or so I thought... After slamming my third Mike's Hard Lemonade I decided to kick off early from Zoe (thats the new cafe' and wine bar near my loft) and head home to catch Gilmore girls. Feeling confident in my new skin-tight black v-neck t-shirt (with the sleeves just short enough to show off the new tat)I walked down the avenue checking my totally retro Swatch to see if I needed to jog a little to make it in time. Next thing I know I've stumbled into some guys that were really less than cool. One of them shoved me an I pushed up my sleeve to show the tattoo. I guess it might have been a clue of things to come when they didn't seem to care. Things really went downhill after that. I don't remember much of anything after that except this really creepy dude with a neck tattoo that I have to admit was much tougher looking than mine. The doctor said the casts will come off soon.