Yesterday afternoon a small band of speed geeks descended upon Seattle’s Slave to the Needle to witness the assimilation of Brent Picasso into a storied and elite group of racing drivers. This band of drivers all bare the mark of the truly Nerdcore.
Brent proved to be a stoic tattoo recipient unlike his simian teammates who simpered and whined through the application of their own nerd totems.
Brent on the other hand, reclined on the torture tattoo table and was a smiling recipient of a lead foot. Shortly into the session Brent asked, “Have you started yet?”. The startled tattoo artist chuckled in surprise and said “I’m doing it”. Sean, Scott, and Bret, expecting the hysteria humorous displays of pain they experienced at their session, were left feeling slightly emasculated. A celebratory drink was shared at the Blue Moon Tavern.
Ahh, peer pressure. I never thought getting a tattoo would feel so conformist!
It was interesting- like a dog involuntarily wanting to scratch from being itched behind his ear – I could feel referred sensations throughout the rest of my body, as the needle passed over various nerves.
If one looks closely above Brent’s left eye, there is a vein there just a tad more pronounced than normal; the only indication he is slightly annoyed at the moment. I should know: I’ve made that area pound on occasion, and lived to tell about it.