I head to the tattoo parlor with my friend. She’s having a consultation about jazzing up some of her current tattoos. I sit in the waiting room and eye the piercing price list. One ear is $50, genitals are almost $200. That seems like a lot for one ear. But I have no piercings, so what do I know?
I join my friend for her consultation. The tattoo artist introduces herself and tells me,
“So you’re the friend with no tattoos.”
Yes. Why is that so obvious? I could have a butterfly on my lower back. I don’t. You can’t have tattoos if you want to be buried in a Jewish cemetery. I don’t know what I want to do when I die, but for now I’ll keep my options open.