Studying Tattoo Science should be a high school graduation requirement.

Before anyone starts lecturing about how suggestible young people are, or ranting about statistics linking body modification with antisocial behavior, I’d like everyone to get a grip on their knee-jerk reactions long enough to remember one thing: Love them or hate them, tattoos are compelling subject matter. That makes tattoos an excellent vehicle for learning.

What is there to learn from tattoos?

Read the answer to this and other questions over on our companion site, GeekMom.

Keepin’ it real… real poopy.

An image of BBG!’s first ink (she sat for it like a sailor — tho she did cuss like one too).

And a video that made me smirk in a not unkind way. Enjoy?

I realize that’s probably not what you’re called any more. Now I’m sure you’re a Pediatric Nutrition Delivery Engineer, Height Challenged Dining Specialist, or maybe a Portion Optimization and Transportation Supervisor. For the sake of brevity, I will be sticking with “Lunchlady.”

If the children’s books are to be believed, I’m certain that you are a really, really nice person, just misunderstood (See Lunch Lady and the Author Visit Vendetta et al). There may have been a time when the lunchlady was the villain, but the pop culture pendulum has definitely swung. How long until blue-skinned, long-tailed Lunchladies 3-D their way through a James Cameron epic?

But I’m not buying it. Or rather, my daughter isn’t buying it. Because, as you have so thoughtfully pointed out, she’s out of lunch money.

On the one “hand,” us parents really do appreciate clear communication from the school, on the other “hand” does it have to be on the kids’ skin. And while the bold, black “send lunch money” stamp leaves little room for doubt, do you worry it might be a little Scarlet Letter-y?

What I really object to, however, is the “full-sleeve” of stamps that my daughter is now sporting. Four stamps, one for each successive day that her balance has been somewhat low, creeping up her arm. That crosses a line. Now you are criticizing not only our family fiscal responsibility, but also our hygiene practices. Where would it stop? The forehead? Stamping her classmates? Stopping by the house to stamp me? I mean, we would eventually bathe the child, but still.

I realize there is no free lunch. Enough with the lunchroom tatts. I relent. Enclosed please find a check.

Sincerely,

Clay Nichols

P.S. Would you mind stamping your chicken quesadilla recipe on my daughters arm? She really likes those.

Like I said, this was our first foray. I’ve been to my share of arcades cum restaurants – GameWorks instantly comes to mind – and enjoyed them. But nothing prepared me for the societal train wreck we found at Chuck E. Cheese. Utter chaos is to be expected, especially in a place that caters to children and harried parents, and I expect soft drink-fueled, token-clutching kids to be less than mannerly and aware of what is happening around them. I do, however, expect some parents to at least be cognizant of where their spawn are or how they might be behaving. I can expect that, right? One doesn’t abdicate responsibility in this type of environment, right? Mrs. Big Dubya and I kept a watchful eye on the kids primarily so they wouldn’t get trampled or bullied out of the way, but also to make sure neither one of them got a cigar in the eye.

But, enough about the kids. Can we talk about the parents? Back in August of 2007 I wrote about the wildly inappropriately dressed “young women” we encountered at Disneyland. Well, the people we ran into Saturday made most of those look like beaming debutantes with smiling young beaus on their arms. Holy extensions, bad tats and muffin tops, Batman. Case in point and one that is emblazoned in my memory like any other traumatic event: I saw an ample bosomed woman – maybe 30-35, but whose smoking had given her the more wizened look of a 50-55-year-old – wearing a tank tee (mind you, it was cold outside…fuckin’ cold) that barely contained those breastesses. On her right breast, Tweety-Bird. On her left…wait for it…Stewie. Stewie! From Family Guy. Only not an entire Stewie, though there was ample canvas. No, just Stewie’s head floating on a mound of flesh. And, honestly, I had enough of a look at these tattoos to come to the conclusions that a) they were not very well done at all; b) may have looked better before gravity, but far from showing-off worthy and c) Stewie? I don’t think even Seth has him tattooed anywhere, although I could be wrong. The men/dads? Some would have been better off with putting an ‘X’ (or two) in front of the ‘L’ on the tags in their shirts or learning how a belt works – plumber’s crack is not an accessory it’s a faux pas – but all-in-all not too bad.

Now, before some of you slam me as some sort of elitist, let me remind you that we were at a Chuck E. Cheese – a restaurant for all intents and purposes that targets kids – not a dive or club or in someone’s double-wide. It’s a place loaded with skee-ball lanes, video games and miniature carousels. Not stripper poles, mirror balls and VIP rooms. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a modicum of decency, do you?