[As August 2010 marks the close of our tenth year of weekly publication, we shall spend this month enjoying "the blast from the past" with selections from Poor Mojo's Almanac(k): Year Three (issues 101-150). Please, enjoy!—Your Giant Squid, Editor-in-Chief, PMjA]

[originally published in issue #150]

Unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond my control, I must get rid of my totally radical tattoo. I am hoping that someone here would be willing to buy it or perhaps trade me something cool for it.

My (Your) Tattoo is fucking cool! It is on my back, and is of a cobra wrapped around a skull (going in and out of the empty eye sockets, of course!) with flames in the background. The whole thing is on the hood of a fucking awesome Z-28 which is peeling out with clouds of smoke in the shape of a pot leaf coming off the wheels as they burn rubber!!! The Grim Reaper is driving the Z-28 with his sharp hell scythe sticking out the window. My (Your) Tattoo is totally a babe magnet, so some of you guys out there looking to score might want to read on!

With the purchase of My (Your) Tattoo, you will be able to use the following story of how I (you) got it:

This was back in college. Me and Steve-O and Dan The Man were on a road trip to Baltimore one night. We had been downtown, drinking Scorpion Bowls at this kick ass Chinese restaurant when we decided to go over to Steve-O's cousin's house to see if we could score a bag of weed. (I think at this point I had drunk like maybe 8 of these Scorpion Bowls and was pretty shit-face.) So we get down to Steve-O's cousin's, but the mofo aint' home, so we just sit in the car and drink a few more beers. It's about 11 o'clock and we decide to go check out the neighborhood. So we are walking around, drunk as hell, when we come across this Tattoo Parlor (I can't really remember the name of the place . . . like Fat Duck Tattoos or Flathead tattoo or something . . . ) So I am totally psyched to get one as I had been thinking about it for a while, but Dan The Man wisely tells me that no tatto artist in his right mond would tattoo anyone as drunk as we were. Fortunately, I had a tin of Altoids in my pocket and I ate like half the box and went in. I told the guy what I wanted and he said that it would cost about 350 buck. I whipped out Dad's credit card and settled in. Well, I must have fallen asleep cause the next thing I know, the guy is waking me up and telling me that he had finihsed the outline and that I had to come back tomorrow. Well, Steve-O had a big date the next day and couldn't stay in Baltimore, so he had to split. I stayed in Balt-O for a few more days and got the mofo finished, since I had already paid for it. It fucking hurt like hell (especially on the bus ride home) for a few weeks, but it was so totally worth it.

But now I gotta get rid of it cause My Lady Kelly don't like it and, well, you know that old story.

Like I said, I paid $350 for it and I'd like to at least make back my investment, but I know that might not be possible. So drop me a line at BuyMyTatto@yahoo.com and let me know what you think. I'm willing to trade, so make me an offer. Maybe if you got a cool tat that she likes, we can make a deal . . . Peace . . .