So I came to work today telling everyone who would listen that I had lunch with Jack White on Saturday (in the same restaurant, 6 tables away) until some girl was like, "Oh yeah, I see him all the time. One time he was standing next to me in line at the movie theater and complimented my tattoos." Oh man, I was so furious! One time I see a celebrity and have a story to tell about it (we shared a glance for god's sake!) and someone comes along and trumps my shit with a story of their own and all because I don't have any tattoos for Jack fucking White to admire. Hogwash!
Ironically my friends who were visiting just so happened to bring a whole collection of Ed Hardy temporary tatts for us but we didn't put them on until later in the day. I went with a pair of identical tatts, one on the inside of each forearm, of an angry mustang with a mane of fire. You know, the kind of mustang Lucifer himself would ride. One said "Dead" and the other said "Alive" (badass!). Why, oh why, did I not put those fake tatts on earlier in the day to walk into the café, bare guns ablaze, showing off my enraged mustangs for the whole world and Jack White to see? What could have been…
Oh well. A friend pointed out today that while we were gallivanting around Nashville stalking celebrities, there's no telling how many people were following me around like, "Oh my gosh! That's the guy from Heroes!"
Shit – Jack White probably thought that too. He's just lucky he didn't compliment my eyebrows, otherwise he would have gotten a Seven Nation Army to his face.
The fake tatt of Lucifer's Mustang has faded a bit, but you can still get the point, especially on the backdrop of Lucifer's Enabler, also known as my forearm:
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