Monday, 1 May 2017
I don't understand Tattoos.
The real world has seemingly has passed me by cos it's a long weekend here in Queensland and I didn't even know it. The first I heard about it was when a friend of mine PINKY POINKER who writes a fabulous blog, www.pinkypoinker.com.au mentioned it in relation to something else completely random and I have been back pedaling ever since.
So we went to the Spit cos there's a wonderful off leash dog zone as big and as wonderful as my lost mind.
Now I always come away from this place relaxed and calm and usually full of wonder.
Today I wondered how people just refuse to pick up their dog shit.
Oh sure very occasionally Dog will squirt out something closely resembling dirty mud water, cos the salt water she slurps up by the gallon goes right through her, and this is impossible to collect cos it disappears into the sand almost immediately. But when she drops a solid one, we are there with bags in hand.
Today there were 2 dogs galloping around and for our whole visit, we didn't see who they belonged to. The followed us up the beach and back again and stopped to play with random dogs and shit all the way. Yep little piles of Dog Dirt were left like Hanzel and Gretel's breadcrumbs, and when we left, these 2 dogs were still there unattended.
I have heard of people dropping off their kids at patrolled beaches and heading into the casino or the pub, but I am shocked at the idea that folk with dogs would be equally cavalier. Anyway it made me a little cross, cos these piles of poo give purpose to people's argument about no dogs on the beach and that is irritating. Oh Well.
And while we sat and watched the day away, I noticed people and their tattoos. Of course the beach is an excellent place for a tattoo perv.
I don't like tattoos.
I don't understand tattoos.
I am a flighty bitch and just know that I don't want to wear ANYTHING at all EVERY FUCKING DAY OF MY LIFE - Easily bored, I suppose.
And my eyesight, even with my specs is not good enough to distinguish the intricate details - surely there are details, so all too often the markings just look like dirt to me.
And then I wondered if the folk who get tattoos all up and down their legs, get 'em so they can see 'em or so everyone else can see 'em. Which way up is the right way up? And if the right way up is so everyone else can see it, what joy would there be in looking at an up-side-down something on your thigh everyday. Yeh I don't get it.
And then there are the piece meal bits with space and stuff missing and I just hope that one day the canvas will be completed, cos I don't get a bit of this here and a bit of that there. It's a bit like decorating a room and doing a bit of the wall and then the ceiling and then buying a chair and putting it next to salad bowl and a crossword puzzle. One thing at a time, and do it well I always say. I like it when a project is finished. I like drawing a line under things. I don't like half done.
Except half done would have been better than 'job done' on the bloke who was covered from arsehole to breakfast, all over his head and face and shoulders and chest, and then, well I just had to look away. Who does that to themselves?
I can sort understand someone trying to disguise and ugly scar with something pretty and I can certainly understand women who have had double mastectomies who get artistic things tattooed all over their chests, but this mutilation of your face, I just don't get it. I mean no-one is that ugly.
People gave him a very wide birth and perhaps if I was 'in the know' I might have been able to interpret the stuff all over his face, but he was just scary and that surely must have been his intention. 'Look at me! - Don't you dare fucking look at me!"
Once I had seen this fella the rest of the day's body 'art' was of very little significance.
I don't care that people get tattoos, their body and all that, but once done surely there is an expectation that people will perv, except that this bloke wanted people to look then look away. Intimidation! Seems like a permanent way of pointing a gun at the world.