street art

A new tattoo 'parlour' (why? why are tat shops referred to as parlours?) has opened in my 'burb. And it's causing a stir.

Located at the main intersection - renowned for moving in cred i bly slow ly - Tattoo has big open shop front windows, good lighting and all the action takes place right there, street side, so you never know what you're going to see while waiting for the light to change.

I'm told by those in the know that there is a back room should you not feeling like going under the gun in full public view, but from what I've witnessed in the last few weeks, there are many punters out there unabashed to be inked in public.
I did notice however, that soon after it opened the shop owners had someone put spikes up along the low external window sills, seems it became a gathering spot of sorts for the local indigent population keen on a bit of street theatre, I'm guessing there's a difference between being admired by passing motorists and leered at for the duration of your tattoo by a one-eyed guy smoking newspaper roll-ups and providing a running commentary in unspeakable language?

Anyhoo, it's a welcome change for us passing motorists after just having the one-eyed guy to look at for all these years.
I've seen some very special sights. No genital piercings as yet (though a friend saw a guy getting his nipple spiked - that's a traffic safety risk right there), but I've seen some nice work being done on some nice bodies. I've appreciated some rippling torso, a shapely calf or two, some very nice bicep. The tattoo artists themselves aren't too hard on the eye either ...
I've seen some serious slapper cleavage too though, a bit more cellulite than I'd like to while out buying the paper, not to mention some hairy shoulders. Eeeuuuwww.
Husband's still livid about the evening (tat shop's open from 1-10 pm) I saw a pretty young thing drop her shorts to expose a tiny g-string and a great ass. Now there's a fender-bender danger.

But my favourite sight was this evening's. A lithe young thing stretched out on the full length bench. Clad in jeans and a bikini top she was getting the colour-work done on a full back piece. She had two artists working on her, the shop's resident pit-bull (of course) sitting solemnly by their feet.
And just outside, hands clasped disapprovingly behind their backs, heads shaking and tongues no doubt cluck clucking, 3 elderly aunties, aghast at the antics of the kids of today, but unable to draw themselves away.
'What would her mother say if she could see her now tsk tsk tsk .... '