Maybe it's just me, but my face began to convulse and form an expression resembling confusion as I watched someone leave the subway train, and for no inexplicable reason roll up his sleeves, blatantly showing off the tattoos on his arms. They didn't even look that good. I've seen better graffiti by my old elementary school. It really just seemed like his morning routine was: wake up, brush teeth, draw fake tattoos onto arms with Shaprie. Hey, if you don't believe me, here's a (rough) transcript of the conversation I was having. With myself:
Me to self: Oh man, it's too early, why am I only half awake this morning? I ate breakfast and everything ... say, why is that guy over there rolling up his sleeves?
Self to me: It looks like he's showing off his tattoos. But it's 8 in the morning, what would possess someone to do such a thing?
Me to self: They don't even look real, maybe I should tell him.
Self to me: Are you kidding? That guy is first of all, taller than you, and I'm pretty sure the size of your arms are the the size of his arm bones. Don't get us beat up saying something stupid.
Me to self: Fine.
