There I was. Drunk, and more than a little pissed off that some douche-bag was showing off his expensive camera by rudely flashing everyone. I hope his pictures turn out great, cuz one of the last ones he took was of me
flicking a freshly dragged cigarette at his face. Unfortunately, it exploded beside his face, and not in his nostril, but burnt his coat, and his ass.
"I'm on fire!" he exclaimed.
"If you were on fire, buddy, you'd be a lot brighter." I punned.
Anyway, as I mused about my lack of decent aim, a woman beside me rested her wicked, black, shit-kickers on the arm rest of the Muskoka chair I was sitting on. The name brand was
"DESTROY."I could relate.
"Nice shot." I think she said, or kinda imagined.
"I was aiming for his face..." I thought was a cool answer. Fuck it, right?
I'm not gonna lie... I don't remember what we were talking about that lead into a conversation about her career as a tattoo artist, but it might've had something to do with scarring people for life. I think. Again, drunk.
As we talked, I decided that this particular lady was
A) not to be fucked with
B) pretty fuckin hardcore for telling me that a lit cigarette destined for for her friend's face was a "good shot," and
C) a chilled-before-serving glass of cool.
It became known that this particular master of disaster was just back from a special part of the world where the natives are not unaccustomed to murder, getting funky, and smoking like a pile of wet leaves. She tells me, over my millionth beer, the trick to getting away without getting killed, is not finishing the tattoo.
Hmmm. Makes sense, I thought. Thats what I'd do.
As it were, is, and might continue to be for the time being, this epidermis vandal is flying right under your radar, using a
Supersexy UrsaMega Issue Zero filter-camoflauge, of our own design. After a meeting at an undisclosed location, and getting to know our needle-ninja better, she agreed to allow Issue Zero Magazine, and our dedicated affiliate, the
Undergoddamnedground, to represent her work, and filter her clientelle
(provided I allow her to tattoo Chemical Robitiks' face when he passes out drunk sometime in the neer future. It sounded fair to me.)
As the reader can see from above, she got mad skill. Evidence of delicate radial designs, deep solid sleaves, and color theory prove this feline should be sent to Infamy Penatentary, where she will serve out her consecutive life sentences, without bail. These are just a meer glipse of her massacre. I've seen many pictures of her most brutal crime scenes.
"I don't know, how can I be sure shes any good, though...?"
"Is it clean, am I gonna get fucked up...?"
That's her up top,
tattooing herself. As far as I'm concerned, it's fucking walking resume. As for cleanliness, I saw her set up, it's legit. It's as sterile as the vacuum of space.
Lets just say for a second that you, are a huge pansy, and, that you think that it's weird that an online magazine (of the illest repute) is filtering a tattooist's jobs. Well, friend-no-more, I think it's time you stopped reading, head straight for the neerest kitchen sink, and quickly drink as much of what you can find underneath it, as fast as you can, whilst fucking yourself.
Pleasent chugging, Lily Dipper.If you have finally desided that you want to get a tattoo, or have fuckloads of 'em already, and wanna add another piece of someones life experience to "The Canvas..."
CONTACT US AT ISSUEZERO@GMAIL.COM FOR QUOTES, CONCEPT DEVELOPMENT, AND SCHEDULES.ISSUE ZERO IS PLANNING ON GOING UNDER THIS WOMANS KNIFE, IN SOMETHING WE AT THE OFFICE CALL "OPERATION: PINS AND NEEDLES."FORM A SINGLE LINE AND HOLD OFF ON THE DRINKING FOR ONE DAY, AND GET INKED BY ONE HARDCORE FATHERFUCKER.
As if I don't have enough "side projects," I've recently joined the editorial staff of a new online magazine, called Connect the Dot, focusing on the Toronto urban theme. The website will include news blogs, interviews with media figures, writers, producers, directors, and artists alike, feature articles, profiles, and eventually, podcasts.
