I love tattooing names on people, says Hez, down at Southside Tattoo. Then he cuts to the punch line: It means they’ll be back for another, bigger tattoo to cover up the first one. Three months ago, I detailed here an example of my sometimes astounding stupidity: In June 2006, I got a tattoo the size of Chicago prominently featuring the name of a man I’d married just a month prior. Because I knew he was the one. Sadly, though, I just didn’t know which one.
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