A coworker gets her first tattoo. She proudly displays it during her shift, because, well, who wouldn't? It's ginormous, sprawled across her lower back, a four-word sentence, written out in a kind of Olde English block script. It looks like it still hurts, but it's a beauty, it really is.
While admiring it, I notice a clear, obvious typo. A permanent typo... ouch. Tat-o? What do you call that?
What am I supposed to do? I'm not sure anyone else noticed it immediately, but somebody's bound to, right? Should she hear it from me first? Will she think I'm a bitch, forever, and associate me, forever, with her forever tatoo? She's the coolest girl, and I'm in a quandry...
In the sweet old country where I come from
Nobody ever works, yeah nothin' gets done
We hang fire, we hang fire
You know marrying money is a full time job
I don't need the aggravation, I'm a lazy slob
I hang fire, I hang fire
Rolling Stones, "Hang Fire"