This is the Mighty Jim Cooke sketch of what will be placed on my upper right buttock very soon. No red birds, no shooting flames — just buzzsaw.
I'm meeting a prospective artist over at DareDevil Tattoo in the Lower East Side in a few minutes to find out just how long, painful, and ridiculous-looking this image would be. Many people have tried to talk me out of following through with my end of the Mayor's Bet (including the Emeritus himself), but, personally, I feel like not following through with it would be even more lame than actually having a buzzsaw tattoo forever. My parents, on the other hand, are much more concerned about me getting walloped in the face with a cookie sheet. That will take place either tonight or tomorrow night, depending on scheduling conflicts.
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