...Not the kind of wheel you fall asleep at...

Jumping Sharks is Its Own Kind of Fun

I wish I was a boy for the sole reason that boys rock tattoos in ways infinitely hotter than girls.

Girls, of course, can also rock a tattoo.

But boys rock them harder. Especially in the realm of chest-tattoos.

A girl with an off-centered pec/breast tattoo automatically rings of "middle-aged mother of two who got drunk one night while still in her 20s and was coerced into getting a tattoo by her Harley-riding boyfriend."

But I can think of nothing hotter than a boy with a nice pec tattoo.

Case in point is Adam Goldberg.

I spent most of this movie RIDICULOUSLY envious of his tattoos and his consequent smoking hotness.

(Be forewarned: This is the end of the movie 2 Days in Paris, so if you've never seen it, you may not wanna watch, except for a second or two to check out tatt-hotness.)

PS: I just realized that I think there may be wang in here. So: probably NSFW.

I never thought Adam Goldberg was remotely hot, what with his perpetually furrowed brow and angry twitchiness, but as soon as I saw his pec tattoo, I was like: BLAM. HOT.

The same pectoral-tattoo hypnotism was also clearly to blame for my brief but lewd involvements with a Catholic, meat-eating, action-movie-watching construction-worker who got mad at me once for doing an impersonation of the Virgin Mary. There's no other explanation.

What it must be like to have that kind of tattoo power.

*Wistful sigh*

Unrelatedly: My boyfriend is wonderful.*

And now a slightly uninteresting picture of snow:

*Sorry, Boyfriend. This is not being said for your benefit or even sincerely. Though it's true. Oh yes.



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