Tattoos and Candy

If I could live off of candy, I have no doubt that I would. Last week I went up north to visit for Mom's 60th birthday. We (the siblings) treated her to lunch in Fisherman's Wharf and stopped at the Candy Baron on Pier 39 for salt water taffies. There is something so incredible about candy stores; it is like living inside a cartoon. I instantly have the urge to stuff my pockets full of whatever I can get my hands on. One of two things happen when I am in a candy store: I either am so overwhelmed by the choices I walk out empty handed, or go crazy and buy too much. After making a lap around the aisles, I walked out having taken nothing but pictures.

 Luckily, Mom was on it. When she entered the store she grabbed a bucket and began filling it with handfuls of rainbow colored treats. She waked out with a gallon bag full of salt water taffies. Now, I have tried to buy some in Los Angeles, and maybe I just didn't go to the right place, but it seems as though Northern California has the best taffies. We thought she went a bit overboard, but the bag was demolished a couple days later. Clearly, we underestimated the allure of candy.

During my visit I finally was able to coordinate schedules with both my friends and tattoo artist. The stars and planets aligned and I finally got the first two tattoos of my BFF tattoo collage. Yes, tattoo collage. Eventually I want to get matching tattoos with all of my favorite people (participation purely voluntary, of course).

Now, I originally wasn't planning on getting two tattoos in one week, but when your best friends offer to pay for it, it is difficult to refuse.

Enter dinosaurs! 

I realize that my obsession has now reached levels of mental illness, but I figure I would rather get silly dinosaurs with two of the people I love most than some common sparrow or koi fish (no offense to anyone who has either of those). I have never been good a following trends anyway.