Free - Tattoowise
Zune introduces Zune-Originals customization
Customers will have the opportunity to customize the back plate of their new players (Zune 4 & 8, 80) selecting among 27 original works from 18 artists. The customization offered includes size, color, illustration and up to four lines of text.
Un bon w-e au studio tattoo de Mikael (de Poissy).
Super ambiance, super shoot photo, rien à re-dire :)
__ E n j o y __
:. Aurély .:
Two days healed.
Done by Jose Perez Jr. of Darkwater Tattoos
8502 S. Harlem Ave Bridgeview IL, 60455
Shop number (708)598-0999
Open seven days a week 2pm-10pm
Earl says, "Mr. Brainwash's office door".
Stage Two: lines - Size 12x16in - Time: around two hours or three - For him: (Jamie Allen Jones) www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000503830030 FACEBOOK: www.facebook.com/donchuckcarvalho BLOG: thetraditionalway.blogspot.com/ TWITTER: twitter.com/#!/chuckcarvalho
Artist: Timothy Leap Title: Untitled Medium: Watercolor on Illustration Board Size: 14”x14” Colorfast Tattoo, Fort Lauderdale colorfaststudios.com This artwork is part of Bear and Bird Gallery's "Off the Needle" exhibition in Lauderhill, Florida. Exhibition runs September 5 - October 10, 2009, for more information visit our website www.bearandbird.com
Three random tattoo ideas
"There is something beautiful about all scars of whatever nature. A scar means the hurt is over, the wound is closed and healed, done with.” - Harry Crews
A story about the scar:
The first time my husband-to-be came for a visit to my tiny town in northern Minnesota, I had the misfortune to pull weekend on-call EMS duty. As soon as he walked in the door of my apartment after his 5 hour drive, I heard the tones blare from my portable radio. Giving him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek (it was only our 2nd or 3rd date and I still wasn't sure if I wanted to be in a real relationship with anybody), I suggested that he relax and make himself at home as I'd likely be away for an hour or so responding to the call.
Nearly 3 hours later I returned, after an extremely trying series of events. I won't bore you with the details, but suffice to say, we ended up transporting a 350+lb patient while short-staffed. While attempting a 2-man lift to get the patient onto the cot, I slipped and bobbled a bit on the extremely grimy floor of the residence and felt a sharp pain in my lower right abdomen and back. Assuming that I had just strained a muscle or something, I didn't mention it to anybody, even though, over the course of the next day and a half, I was increasingly in a state of discomfort.
RJ's visit was going extremely well- I was showing him all the highlights of my small town life- the "Big Stick", the U.S. Hockey Hall of Fame, my local hangouts. At the end of the visit, he was reluctant to start his long drive home, and I didn't feel like letting him go just yet. I suggested that I make the drive with him and then fly back home the next day, as I didn't have to work and I had flight benefits that made my trip home amount to only $10. His eyes lit up at the suggestion. Obviously, I had made a good decision.
About halfway through the drive, I started to feel really ill. The pain in my lower back had changed from a dull ache to a feeling like somebody was repeatedly squeezing and releasing a kidney or some other vital part near it. RJ noticed that I was looking a bit distressed and asked how I was doing. Not wanting to worry him, I shrugged it off again as a strain and told him I would go to the doctor as soon as I landed, as the clinic was only a couple of miles from the airport.
I didn't eat any supper or breakfast, as my nausea had intensified. When I landed at the hub airport to make my connecting flight to northern MN, I quickly went to find a gate agent I had made friends with throughout all of my travels. He escorted me back to one of the crew rooms where I could take a nap undisturbed, and promised to wake me in time for my flight.
The 35-minute flight was awful. I was feeling sick to my stomach, and feeling a sharp pain in my back every couple of minutes. The minute the plane landed, I tore out of the terminal, leaving my baggage behind, and jumped into the car my friends had thoughtfully left in the employee lot for me. Breaking speed limits, I rushed to the walk-in clinic, where I had just enough time to walk in and grab a basin from behind the triage desk (I used to work there and knew where they were kept) before launching into a fit of projectile vomiting that wouldn't stop.
The triage nurse, who knew me, grabbed a wheelchair and promptly wheeled me across the parking lot to the hospital emergency room- just in time, as my appendix had ruptured.
I was to be rushed into surgery, but there remained the small problem that nobody knew my whereabouts. My dad was on the road for work in a far northern part of the state without cell coverage and his answering machine had broken the week before and he had not yet replaced it, RJ was at work and I didn't know his work number, and none of my local friends were answering and did not have voicemail or answering machines at the time. I left a quick message on RJ's home phone number stating my predicament and where I could be reached and then called the only other person I could think of- a friend named Kyle who I had a sort of