Proper words do not exist to accurately describe me in one sentence.

...Oh man, I don't even know. Probably the gypsy/"day of the dead" lady on my leg. Long story short, I wanted a tattoo of the Bacardi bat on my 21st birthday, and the "artist" who did it blew out the ink, thus permanently making my leg look bruised. I promptly ran to Brian Abernathy, this amazing artist in Visalia, CA, and got it covered up. Now it's beautiful! I'm also quite fond of the memorial tat he did for me. A good friend of mine died of cancer at the ripe age of 23, and since I was in the navy at the time, I didn't get the closure of going to his funeral. Before he died, he had graffiti'd some government buildings, my favorite tag being "your days are numbered once you realize the masses outnumber you, and man are they pissed". The cops didn't figure out that he had done it until he died, and I'm sure that if Punk Land [Bizzaro/Punk heaven] is real, he was up there laughing his ass off at it all. Anyhow, I wasn't too happy with my navy career at the time, and was still mourning, so I got the words forever etched into my skin- "YOUR DAYS ARE NUMBERED ONCE YOU REALIZE THE MASSES OUTNUMBER YOU... AND WE'RE PISSED!"