True story coming in.
A couple months before my 40th birthday, I decided I was going to get a tattoo. Never had one. Figured I was due. But I had no idea what I was going to get. It had to be something personal. It had to say something obvious about me. Something that was consistent that I wasn't going to feel different about or regret later. I needed to think about it, and do some soul searching.
I flew out to a friend's place in Florida for a week for her birthday. My gift was that I was going to use her tattoo guy for my first ink. We had been friends for years reading each other's blogs and figured it was time we meet. A number of her friends and family also followed us online. I got to meet several of them in person for the first time, including her husband.
So it turned out that David, unlike his wife, listened to a lot of the same stuff that I did. And he was pleased as anything to be able to crank up the Pantera when he and I went places in his car. And we started talking about other bands. Turns out we were big fans of W.A.S.P., and I hooked him up with my albums saved as mp3s. And on it went.
And that is when it hit me. I was as happy and passionate to talk about music as I was when I was in high school. Metal has always been the consistent love of my life, and still is. So I imagined the one thing that was the undeniable, iconic symbol for "metal". I choose the most metal of all guitars: the B.C. Rich Warlock.
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