September 29, 2003 - 3:18 p.m.

I'm thinking about getting a tattoo.

It's all Emily's fault, really. We're rooming together at JournalCon, and she said she's going to get a tattoo while she's in Austin and asked me to go with her. "Oh," she said mockingly. "You don't have to get one if you don't want."

OK, I'm paraphrasing and completely making up her tone of voice, since this all took place over e-mail. But I need someone to blame if this all goes horribly, horribly wrong.

I'm thinking about getting a variation on the lucky cat you see at the top of the page. I love the lucky cats, and it's the only tattoo design I've considered that I think I'll actually like forever and ever. Unless a lucky cat someday mauls me or someone I love, I can't envision a day when I'll look at my tattoo and say, "What the hell was I thinking?"

My only reservation about getting the lucky cat is that it's generally something people put in their stores, to bring more business. So if I get one on my back, am I, in effect saying, that I'm "open for business"? Will my tattoo turn me into a whore? Will it?

There's also the pain factor. Well, maybe not so much pain as potential grossness. I'm not actually a wimp about pain, but I am incredibly squeamish. I can't watch ER because they're always talking about things like "rip spreaders" (I also hear it sucks now, but that's beside the point). The few times I've tried to give blood, I've passed out. In high school biology, I once had to leave the classroom when we were discussing the circulatory system. Of the frog.

So, what do you think? Should I do it? Should I get a tattoo? Tell me what to do.

That way, if it all goes horribly wrong, I can blame you.

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