A Tatty Tattoo

(A friend of mine works as an artist in a tattoo parlor. One of his friends is well-known for being a weird and all-around goofy kind of person, and is also a regular. He comes in for a consultation on his next tattoo.)

Friend: “Okay, so, what is it that you want?”

Regular: “I want this on my left bicep, surrounded by roses!”

(He hands over a printed out paper that says, “NO REGERTS,” in Comic Sans.)

Regular: “And it needs to be in that exact font!”

Friend: “You realize you spelled ‘regrets’ wrong, right?”

Regular: “Well, duh! I want it spelled exactly like that!”

Friend: “Is that really what you want on your bicep for the rest of your life?”

Regular: “Yep! That way if I die in a horrible accident, when my wife comes to identify the body, she can take one look at that tattoo, sigh, and go, ‘Yes, that’s my husband, all right.’”

(My friend said it was painful to do an intentionally bad tattoo, but according to him, it fit his friend’s personality perfectly, and the guy seemed happy with it, anyway.)