The Jeremy Meeks mug shot sensation has ignited a flurry of discussion around the facial tattoo phenomenon, specifically concerning the fuckability of facially tattooed individuals. Speaking as someone who has a long history of courting and bedding such a broad cross section of this community, I feel that it is important that I contribute my opinions to this pressing issue.
In my many encounters with curiously modified gentleman, I have come to follow a simple guideline. Should a heavily tatted man catch your attention, be it in a bar, a sauna, or a back alley, check the head and neck. Consider neck tattoos a flashing yellow light. By all means proceed, but do so with caution. For instance, if the neck tattoo(s) involve emblazoned names of past lovers, you can safely surmise that this is a committed and passionate individual. But ask yourself; are you ready for such a long term commitment? Tonight’s passion can quickly snowball into tomorrow’s court date, so be sure to be fully aware of just what you’re getting into. As for facial tattoos, consider this a clear red light. Stop, do not proceed, and consider alternate avenues for your physical and emotional needs.
Having said this I know that there will still be a large number of people who ignore my advice and proceed to engage their potential lovers, facial tattoos and all. I will admit that there are some advantages to dating a man with facial tattoos. They tend to be passionate lovers and anyone who will permanently etch your likeness on their person clearly harbors no fear of commitment. Furthermore facial art is a great ice breaker for parties and an inexhaustible source of conversational fodder. Aesthetically speaking, facial art has to be evaluated on a case by case basis. If your lover’s facial art is a single bold gesture, such as Mike Tyson’s iconic face ink, this can prove to be a great conversation piece and artful in its own special way. However I have found that one facial tattoo is rarely enough and the wearer invariably gives in to the temptation to take on more, more and still more facial art. When head and neck tattoos take on Michelle Bombshell McGee proportions, then the facial art has gone past cute, curious or avant-garde and is now just hideous. This could be your future husband, folks, and there’s just no way to salvage a decent Christmas card photo with that kind of ink.
This brings us back to Jeremy Meeks. I’ve got to say, when your beauty can shine through a collar of neck ink and a teardrop tattoo, you are fucking hot. The growing collection of Meeks mug shot memes can attest to this. Hopefully the notoriety generated from this now iconic photo can come to help Meeks with his inevitable legal bills. His Mother insists that Meeks is a victim of neck tattoo profiling and has started a Go Fund Me page to assist with his legal bills. So if you feel for this man, or just want to tip a hot bitch for being so pretty, I implore you to contribute. Despite his newfound fame, Meeks is still in a distinctly unenviable position. Those piercing blue eyes and pouty lips are now the stuff of legend, so throughout all the chaos and uncertainty of his current legal woes hopefully Meeks can take some small comfort in the fact that he has contributed to the zeitgeist.
Hunger and desperation brought me into my local Subway today where long standing suspicions about my local sandwich artists’ work habits were finally confirmed. After tearing through my sandwich preparation in characteristic breakneck speed, a seemingly innocent comment about gunning an 8-ball produced a look of such authentic, wide-eyed terror as to remove any lingering doubt. It was official; my sandwich artist was on cocaine.
I took a moment to reflect on this while rearranging and then eating my sandwich. This man has nothing but my utmost respect. To think, this gentleman is so enterprising, so frugal and so resourceful as to support a cocaine habit on a sandwich artist’s salary. This is the classic American industrious spirit at fine display. I am much too disorganized to support a drug habit on minimum wage. I couldn’t even dream of it, yet this man has shown me that where there’s a will, there’s a way. It just goes to show what you can accomplish in life when you have priorities.
Sure, he was a bit disheveled, he looked like he hadn’t slept in days and his personal hygiene suggested that bathing was a distant memory. None of this changes the fact that this man showed up to work, managed a busy load of customers with courtesy and aplomb, all while high on drugs. I can barely drive while intoxicated but this man could multitask on an epic level. What’s more, he did it all while innovating. He worked (and talked) at a frenetic, breakneck speed, producing a BLT sub in blistering speed. It was a curious sandwich; all the meat was stuffed to one side while the scant few vegetables remaining on the bun were left to whimsically trail the remaining length of the sandwich. It was the most unique sandwich that I ever had, the handiwork of a consummate artist.
This man has fundamentally changed me. No longer will I tolerate the shrill, coddled whining of the student-loan generation. If this man can be so enterprising and frugal as to nurse a cocaine habit off of minimum wage, then I see no reason why my peers cannot find a way to repay the $50,000 in loans taken out to obtain a bachelor’s degree. Blow is the Champaign of illicit narcotics. If America’s cocaine addicts can support their habits off sandwich making then surely you can repay your monstrous academic debt off the wealth of opportunities afforded to a philosophy major. In short, quit your bitching.
Drug addicts are the greatest Americans. No matter what the circumstances, they always find a way to make it work. The drug addicts of this country don’t let anything stand in the way of living out their dreams of snorting drugs. If they can live their dreams, why can’t we? Let the spirit of our nation’s coke addicts inspire us to get off our lazy asses and reach for the stars.
I know what you’re thinking and no, that isn’t Michelle Kwan in Jem & The Holograms drag. This is Jang Keun-suk, the current resident flame in my heart, your future celebrity crush and The Embittered Queen dot com’s Babe of the Month!
Keun-Suk is a radiant symbol of Korean virility and a serial lady killer amongst his nation. Comparatively speaking Jang Keun-suk functions a lot like a Korean Ryan Gosling, albeit significantly more glittery. Keun-suk is the star of my very favorite k-drama, Pretty Man (typing that makes me think of Superman soaring majestically across the sky, caked in rouge) but now that I’ve unleashed him onto you I’m sure he will be blowing up your Facebook and Twitter feeds from now on. I’ve featured a famous selfie of him which is sure to be your new desktop background. It would take an entire team of scholars months to properly dissect the brilliance of this photo, but let me take you on a brief tour. You will first note the impeccable eyeliner; Keun-Suk has an extremely deft hand. I would be remiss if I did not laud the iced silver underliner. I am ALWAYS searching for new uses for my Glitter Liquid Liner Superpack from Claire’s, but the bitch went ahead and beat me to the punch. Hot damn. And that hair. Yes, the front barrel curl frames the face impeccably, but far more importantly it serves to highlight that UN.BE.LIEV.ABLE. crimped pony hair-extension. (Clock the nylon white scrunchie.) My favorite part of my childhood skipper doll was the trampy crimped hair extension that came with it. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around it. With a simple snap of a clip, my skipper could go from slutty to full-on Lohan. Astounding. Nothing tops the transformative effects of a clip-in hair crimp, nothing. Many men have looks, others have charm, but a scant few possess such a refined palette. Gorgeous and brilliant? Now that’s the complete package.
Sadly, Keun-suk is much too bogged down in pussy to ever notice a girl like me, but a girl can dream, can’t she? And this one shall. Thank you, Jang Keun-suk, for your radiant, ethereal hotness and for making this world a much glitterier place.