I remember getting my first tattoo...

I was dating young Adam. He had a home-made tattoo gun, real punk rock: the motor was taken from a ghetto blaster, the needles were enclosed in a Bic pen casing and duct tape, and when he needed ink, he just went down to Office Depot and bought some. He was doing tattoos on anyone who would let him, and it was only a matter of time before he asked me if I wanted one. I certainly did! It was time to do something permanent in my very unstable life; plus, I could picture me as a grandmother one day, calling over the grandkids and saying, "Looky here at Granny's tattoo!"

I thought about it, and decided I wanted a Chinese-type dragon. Adam said he could do that. I decided that if I was getting a tattoo, I wanted to be straight--nothing to numb the pain (no alcohol, no drugs), and nothing to blame my choices on. Adam said that was really cool, and suggested listening to loud punk rock music to distract me some.

A home-made tattoo gun works very slowly. Adam worked on my right shoulder blade for four long hours the first day. "That's all I can do, my hand is cramping. We'll have to finish the colour work tomorrow." I came back to his little apartment the next day and he worked for four more hours on the already red and raw dragon. That may have been the longest four hours of my life! I don't care how loud you turn up the Black Flag or Subhumans...a slow tattoo still hurts.

Yup, that's me in the photo, a few weeks after the job was done. About a year later, Adam added scales to the body, but he had a real gun by that time, and it only took about an hour. When I went for my most recent tat, I told the artist about Adam's home-made gun, and I could see his level of respect for me rise about 98%. He had never seen a tattoo made with a gun like that, though he had heard about such guns.

I still can't wait to show my tattoos to my grandkids one day, IF I ever have any. I doubt they'll be as impressed as that last tattoo artist, but it'll still make my day.

I remember meeting a nice guy and a jerk one evening....

It was 1988, I think. Ray Condo was playing a Rockabilly Christmas party at Club Soda in Vancouver. I knew exactly what I was going to wear: a 1950's vintage red velvet dress, off shoulder, tight waist, huge circle skirt. It doesn't get more rockabilly Christmas-ey than that! Hair in a high pony-tail, bright red lipstick, and black vintage pumps...I was in the zone.

I left my girlfriends at the table and headed to the counter to buy another drink. As I passed by two Fonzey-types with slicked back hair and black leather jackets, one of them called out, "Nice tattoo...can I get a closer look?" The dragon tattoo on my right shoulder blade was peaking out over the top of the red velvet, so I stopped and let him get a closer look. He was very polite, not at all intimidating. We had a nice little conversation about tattoos and the beauty of my dress as his friend stood looking as bored and unimpressed as he could.

I didn't recognize either of them from the usual gig crowd, so I asked them if they were from Vancouver. The silent guy finally piped up. "We aren't from here! We're from L.A., we're here working on a show..." like I should know who they were, but I didn't know who they were, and his attitude was off-putting. I said it was nice meeting them and headed back to my friends at the table.

"Oh my GAWD, do you know who that was?? You were talking to Johnny Depp!!!" they gushed, pretty much in unison.

"Who's Johnny Depp?"

Open mouths, rolled eyes..."He's only the cutest guy from 21 Jump Street!"

"Oh, right, that show they film here. I don't watch TV, I'm too busy living my life at the moment...which one was Johnny?" My friends were disgusted with me, but they pointed out Johnny, the nice guy, and told me the name of the jerk, Richard Grieco, also from 21 Jump Street.

As Johnny just kept getting more famous and Richard just kept getting less famous, it was no surprise to me. I sometimes wonder if they remember that evening when they met a girl in a red velvet dress that wasn't impressed with their celebrity.