Zeno's Bar & Grill

I took a friend, who shall remain nameless, out for dinner last night for her birthday. After a couple of dirty martinis she decided that tonight was the night she would get her longed-for tattoo. It turned out that our waiter had actually gotten a tattoo at the the very same tattoo parlor we had passed on our way to the restaurant. So after a fabulous dinner, and armed with the name of his tattoo artist, we made our way there.

Unfortunately tattoo parlors don’t have valet parking, but fate was with us and we got a space right in front. In we walked, two thirtysomethings, one in a vintage mink and one in a full length furry shearling. The artist recommended to us was available. Five minutes of screaming and her squeezing my hand until it turned purple and she now sports a very cool symbol on her derrière.

Her husband’s never going to let her go out with me again.

--Kelly