That One About The Tattoo Convention

Hello Again, Friends. When I posted on Friday that we were going to a tattoo convention so that The Husband Dude could enter his sleeve in a couple of competitions, I had several requests for photos of his sleeve and the convention.

Full disclaimer…I’m not a photographer. I write words and sometimes I include photos I’ve taken, but I’m not going to win any awards. Please adjust your expectations accordingly! Haha!

There’s A Pill For That

If you’ve been following me for any length of time, you may recall that I’ve mentioned that THD and I really should never take road trips together. After travelling across Texas to my hometown of El Paso and then on to New Mexico to visit family two summers ago, we both vowed never to drive anywhere out of town together again. That way, I would no longer have to Google local places to file for divorce and he would not have to Google local psychiatric hospitals to check me into.

I guess with the passage of time, we decided to let go of that vow and test the waters with a shorter, three hour trip to the southwest of us in Lawton, Oklahoma.

It didn’t start well.

First of all, we had to turn around and go back to the house when we had barely made it down the street to get THD’s phone charger. Then, my “anxious bladder” decided twice that I needed to go to the bathroom, despite not having drunk anything all morning, before we could make it out of the Tulsa metro area.

When we finally got on I-44, there was construction.

THD is a very animated driver.

And by animated driver, I mean that he calls everyone a “fucking bastard” and he’ll tailgate people who can’t go any faster, screaming obscenities at them the entire way.

After clearing the barricades and finally getting out onto open road, THD decided to bring up my mental health.

“Maybe you need to talk to the doctor about your anxiety. I know you don’t have it all the time, but you get it bad every time we take a trip. Maybe he could give you something to take for just those times?”

“Or,” I said, giving him side eye, “You could drive like you’re fucking sober because you fucking are.”

This, my friends, is what we as a couple of nineteen years have come to understand as an “impasse”. In the early years of our marriage, this conversation would’ve led to a fight that would last the next fifty miles.

In our old age, this conversation merely leads to one of us turning up the music and both of us ignoring each other for the next fifty miles until something catches our eye and we can change the awkward subject.

Also, there *might* have been a Google search for “driving school for angry Italian dudes”.

Tattoos, Sideshows, and Pinups

If you’ve never been to a tattoo convention, I’ll walk you through it.

Like any other convention, you have vendors set up to sell their wares. Usually T-shirts and oddities that would appeal to the tattooed crowd. You have your ink and supply vendors that have the actual equipment to sell to tattoo artists. Then, you have tattoo artists themselves, promoting their shops and even inking tattoos right there on the spot.

You might imagine my surprise when I got to the booth selling “Scentsy” products.

Scentsy is basically a company that sells scented wax cubes that you put in a warmer (they sell those too) and it makes your house smell divine.

And somebody saw her opportunity to sell “smell good” to the tattoed people of Oklahoma.

My friend, P, who came up to see us at the convention, wondered out loud why someone would sell Scentsy at a tattoo convention.

“For the same reason some lady was selling Precious Moments figurines at the gun show”, I told her. “For the bored wives that got dragged along.”

True story, by the way.

Then, there’s the stage.

The stage is where they hold the competitions and also where they have a little “sideshow” entertainment. We got there in time to watch the “suspensions”.

If you’re not in the know about what that is, it very simply means they literally pierce people’s skin with hooks, pull them up with a rope and pulley system, and let them hang or swing about as the case may be.

Yes. It’s as gross as you think it is.

I won’t post the pictures I took of the girl who got suspended by her knees. Those are a little more graphic. I’ll show you this one guy who did a “lotus” position. It’s a little less graphic but if this kind of thing bothers you, just scroll quickly.

In between entertainment and competitions, the M.C. (complete with bright pink goatee) chatted up the crowd, hit on the videographer, and talked up the vendors. I think my favorites was:

“Ya know…after you guys leave here this weekend and you get home, your house might smell like ass. That’s why you need to go hit up the Scentsy lady. You get home, turn on your Scentsy, and your house will not smell like ass anymore! Yes, I’m available for fundraisers too!”

After the sideshow entertainment came the beard and mustache contest. We missed that one because The Husband Dude and his artist had to “prep” his sleeve (shave it and lotion it up). We came back in time for the pinup contest.

I love pinup models. I think the retro clothes and hair combined with the tattoo artistry is so unique. I wish I could pull it off, but I’m pretty sure I couldn’t, so I just admire it on others.

Most of the girls who entered the contest were quite cute and had put forth some effort with hair, makeup and outfits. Then there was this girl.

Let’s just call her “Meth Girl”. Meth Girl was not a pinup. She was just there to get attention and show off her A cups. Meth Girl did not win. Here’s the cutie that did.

Finally, we got to the tattoo competitions. Dino, THD’s artist, entered him into five competitions: Best Sleeve, Best Large Black and Gray, Best Horror, Best Realism, and Best Portrait. Twice, he was called back up for them to look at his sleeve again before they made their final decisions.

In the end, though, he didn’t place.

I’m not going to lie. That really sucked rocks for The Husband Dude, but especially for Dino. Check it out for yourself:

They were robbed. Totally screwed over. The competition was tight but, in my opinion, Dino’s work was among the best.

So, I’m going to give him free publicity. Visit Dino at Zen Tattoo in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma.  Visit Dino’s Facebook page for more examples of his awesome work.

Although we walked away empty-handed from the competition, we didn’t walk away empty-handed. THD bought his millionth T-shirt to add to his collection and I spotted this little gem:

THD: Do you really need that?

Me: You’re asking me, the proud owner of a poop hat, poonicorn, and cat with a middle finger, if I need this?

THD: You’re not hanging that up in our house.

Me: Of course not. I’ve got more couth than that. It’s for my cubicle at work.

Don’t Judge A Book By Its Cover

A convention like this is possibly one of the best places in the world to people watch. By far, my favorite character was this totally tattooed guy:

Yes, that’s right. Tattoo guy is holding his wife’s MK handbag, because he’s a gentleman.

Guess who we saw at the gas station the next day? And guess what kind of car he drives?

A Honda Civic, because he wants reliable transportation.

Tattoo Guys. They’re just like you and me.

Sneaking A Selfie

I was messing around with my cell phone camera back in our hotel room and The Husband Dude instructed me NOT to catch him in any of the photos.

So, of course I did.

Because I’m me.

The Morning After

I got up the next morning and my eyes looked like this.

I didn’t even drink. It was just from wandering through the smokey casino for half an hour. Then, there wasn’t coffee. I’ll talk more about that in my hotel review on Friday.

Needless to say, I desperately needed some eye drops. Luckily, I brought a brand new bottle with me on this trip.

Except now, they don’t just put a seal on the damned bottle.

They put a seal with multi-level instructions that are numbered on the damned bottle. Seriously.

This is what I think of your seal at seven a.m. after a terrible night’s sleep and no coffee.

Bonus

Autumn comes a little later in Oklahoma than it does up North. I managed to catch a few pops of color on our drive.

And then there was this:

Stay weird, my friends. Normal is boring!

Don’t forget to come back Friday for my hotel review!