Praise The Lord!

Three thousand.

I hear that for 3-grand I can have the lasik surgery that will correct my eye sight.  For 3-grand I can have a pulled tooth replaced with an implant.

I didn't want to have the tooth pulled.  A year ago the prison's dentist told me I needed a root canal.  A year later they still have yet to "canal" me.  I know what they're doing....blowing me off until they have to pull it.  It's pissing me off enough that I'm about to have them pull it.  That's why I know the implant will cost about 3-grand.  I checked into my options.  A long time ago I realized if you want it done?  Do it yourself.

The tooth is directly in my smile.  That's why I wanted to have the root canal.  I have since decided that if they indeed have to pull lit, then when I replace it with an implant, the replacement will be gold.  Just so I can fuck with people.

And fuck with people is what I do.  And that's where three thousand comes up once again.  It's the number of hits this blog currently pulls in a month.  Cool huh?

I was shaving my balls the other day when it hit me.  I needed another tattoo.  Not on my balls.  That's not necessary.  Instead, I decided to finish my chest off.  The phrase Tattoo'd Hooligan is my registered trademark.  They call me the Hooligan here, so I had it tattooed across my chest.  And, I must say it's bad ass.  Now all I need is that gold tooth.  Then I can be a bad-ass gangster.

My new chest piece had me singing soprano.  However, my rib cage had me filled with the holy spirit and speaking in tongues.  I'm laying there wild-eyed and clenched fists saying "Praise the Lord!" 

No....I mean for real.  The other alternative was to yell, "Fuck me sideways!"  And that's not the sort of thing you want to yell out of your cell in prison.  No way!

All down my ribs it says: "There once was a boy...before you stands a warrior."  That rib cage is some serious shit man.  I kid you not.  Talk about separating the men from the boys....pussies need not apply.  

Speak of the devil, it amazes me a woman's tolerance for pain.  If you can't stand the pain and quit here, we say you taped out.  I'm not tapping out.  Tears can run down my face, but I'm not screaming mercy.  Fat chance in hell.

I recently drew a back piece for my sister.  When she asked me to draw one for her, I knew I didn't want no tramp stamp on my sister.  So I drew her a bad-ass piece since that's what I do.  It was way bigger than she expected and I halfway expected her to photo shop it down.  Not my sister.  Mind you, this is my very quiet, meek, humble and most conservative sister. 

Tattoo design by the Tattoo'd Hooligan, for his sweet yet bad-ass sister!

It amazes me the tolerance for pain a woman has.  Then again...most woman have to deal with some man whose a pain in their ass all day.  I guess they get used to it.  

As you read this, you just pushed the stats one more time.  Thank you, my friend.  Way to put some Hooligan in your life. 

The Wimpy Kid

Well, I had some new art added to my resume the other day.  Here I was thinking it was quite gangster.  Then my lady informed me that it is in fact "adorable".  A word that I asked her to please not use when referencing me.  She laughed and said I was cute.  Bleh!

In fact what has happened to me is that I now live in the Diary of A Wimpy Kid.  For real.  I have a white Steve Urkel for my bunkie now.

All summer long the kid wore a sweatshirt and was cold.  Now he's sick.  Coughing and sneezing and wants the window closed all day.  Instead of go outside and get fresh air, he piles up under his covers with a glass of warm tea and reads romance novels.  Yeah.  With titles like "A Long Summer Night" and "Tender Devil".

My grandmother used to read these books.  They are soft porn for Christ's sake!  So yeah....

Someone had to be gangster around here.





An officer came and tossed our room the other day.  My bunkie was gone at school and that left me in the room.  The officer turns to me holding a copy of "Tender Devil" and asks if it's mine.  There's a damsel in distress, with her dress falling off with some Fabio want-to-be leaning her back ready to rock her world in a bed of roses on the cover.

Tender Devil....fuckin' A.  And now this officer stands here asking me if it's mine.  Can't he tell it's not?  Can't he see how gangster I am?  Whatever.

I'm sure I offended some of my people.  My dad's reply was that I turned my whole body into a canvas.  Well, shit...that beats being called "adorable".  When it comes to regrets, my tattoos are nowhere on that list.  My ink has meaning.  Each piece reminds me of some place in my life.  Still, I get some people won't agree.  

So, here I am living with Diary of a Wimpy Kid while he lives in the Diary of a Mad Man.  Really, I'm not mad. I'm just sitting here with a smirk on my face.  Thinking about what a bad-ass grandpa I'm going to be one day.

Isn't life amazing?  I mean, someone out there wants to bitch about what I do, yet there's others who can tell me that I'm adorable.  Then again....I guess if you took the time to get to know me you would see I'm a pretty cool dude.  I walked down some roads most people couldn't survive.  The shit that didn't break me, made me.

So here I am.  Being harassed for romance novels and making sure nobody steals Urkels lunch.  No wonder my lady says I'm "adorable".  If all my haters could see me now.....

My gangster life has turned into some sort of a joke.  And....the joke may be on me.  My bunkie just walked into the room.  He's wearing long john tops and bottoms, with a pair of gym shorts pulled up over the bottoms.  I have changed my mind.....Steve Urkel don't have shit on this dude.