This is so backwards...

I visited my parents last weekend. Was wearing a t-shirt the Red Cross gave me last time I donated blood.

It's got a picture of Busch Stadium on the front, and the Red Cross and Cardinals logos on the back. It's the logo with two birds on one bat like they have on the jerseys...


I'm going through the fridge... mmm... cheese... grapes... turkey...
My mom is behind me, she looks at my shirt and says, "Oh Paul, that looks just like your tattoo."

Mmm... sausages... more cheese...

"Yeah, it does. Why are you wearing a Cardinal's shirt anyway?"

Mmm... pickles... ham steak... ohhh baby...

Wait, did someone say tattoo???

I turn around, mumble "tattoo" and stare blankly. Dad stares back, also confused. "Yeah... tattoo." Pulls his sleeve up and there's that Cardinal's logo right on his bicep. I'm still staring blankly... it must be fake. It looks like a fresh stick on. Mom says, "He just got the ink redone. It had been almost a year."

"That's not real."... I'm licking my fingers and wiping his arm. Dad is still confused. He forgot that he didn't tell me.

There's no law that says a 52 year old man can't get his first tattoo, but this is supposed to be me! I'm supposed to be 18 years old and coming home with stupid shit on my body! I never came home late with any tattoos or piercing or diseases. But I come home and my father went and got tattooed! Apparently he went out and got all crazy after the World Series.

I know it's no big deal... but I never expected. It's shocking to me personally.

Anyway... just sharing a profoundly pointless story. Go Cards