The voices in my head aren't voices. They are vuvuzela buzzes.

Two posts in the course of a week. I hope none of you suffer a heart attack. This is out of the ordinary for me. By now, you are all accustomed to my usual slacker-like attitude when it comes to this blog. Don't get me wrong though, I am by no means saying that I have changed my ways and will update more frequently. That would just be giving you false hope that I actually want to open a weekly or biweekly window into my mundane life. Instead, I will continue to sporadically update my blog whenever I feel necessary. Deal with it.

With all that legal stuff out of the way, let's get to the topic at hand. Tonight's Topic: Tattoos.

Today, while doing the very important task of making sure there were enough skeeballs in Skeeball Lane #3, I looked up to see Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise staring right back at me with his benevolent gaze that I grew up watching on the television. Right behind him, almost flanking him, was the quizzical, and almost curious, stare of Lt. Cmdr. Data. For a minute, I thought that I had been transported away to a fantastic journey that I always dreamed of as a younger me. Upon further inspection, I realized that it was indeed just a piece of artwork on a random guy's right leg. After I quelled my need to scream in a geek-like cry of passion, I finished loading balls into skeeball and went on my way.

A few minutes later, this guy came to me with a request for assistance with another game. I couldn't contain my nerdgasam any longer and, as I pushed my glasses further up onto the bridge of my nose, I blurted out that I "absolutely loved" his tattoo. This started a shortlived, yet beautiful, five minute friendship. We spent all of our friendship talking about Star Trek and ended on the most heartwarming note, both agreeing that Star Trek: Deep Space Nine was the best of the Star Trek television series. We went our separate ways. I would like to think that as he walked away, he thought about how charming of a fellow I was and how glad he was that our paths had crossed on this fateful afternoon. In fact, I KNOW that is what he was thinking.

I just smiled to myself and thought about how I would be able to justify cutting off his right leg and keeping it for myself.