Last night I fabricated an amusing trend in which my friends and I all got ourselves talking “Lost In Space” tattoos. When I say they “talked,” I mean you just had to press down on the tattoo itself and a sound clip from the show would briefly play (I guess the tattoo artist implanted speakers under our skin?). This gut-busting concept was made all the more hilarious when it was discovered my Robbie the Robot tat spoke for a full three minutes once you pressed down on it. We spent hours, apparently, slapping my arm and listening to this thing go off. It just got funnier and funnier in the dream, and I’m actually smiling about it now.
Later, Rip Taylor stopped by and bought a Superman shirt from me for $100. That was a pretty sweet deal. I don’t think he noticed my awesome and loud ink.