If there’s one thing I hate in this wretched world above all other things it’s gotta be waking up. Sleep is where I am a viking, among other things, and to be torn from it is an awful experience that I have to have again and again like my own personal fucked up version of Groundhog’s Day. The alarm clock is the bane of my existence. For reasons I can’t even begin to grasp some people are so into my mortal enemy that they adorn their bodies with alarm clock tattoos. Let’s take a look at the skin of some of these totally fucked in the head people.
Luckily, my work as a tattoo journalist lets me sleep in because the day’s tattoo news cycle doesn’t really pick up until about 2 PM. But my partner is another story, with her dumb 9-5 gig that requires waking up at times. This wouldn’t be a problem really, but she is just a monster when it comes to her alarms. She’ll sleep peacefully when they start blaring, and I will have to wake her up. Repeat this 2-3 times a day because of the fucking snooze and you’ve got a really unhappy Servo. (Editor’s Note: You have it lucky pal. I could only dream of someone hitting the snooze only 2-3 times.)
Now, I don’t want to go on a rant here, but god damn it if this isn’t the most disrespected I’ve ever felt in a relationship. What would happen if I weren’t around? Would the alarms eventually wake her up? She sets multiple alarms a day as a back-up plan, and on the occasion the first one wakes her up, she’ll usually go about her morning and leave her phone in the bedroom until the next alarm wakes me up for no fucking reason whatsoever. I need my sleep to be on the top of my game in this 100 mile an hour tattoo journalism racket.
Thanks for letting me get this off my chest. Here are some tattoos of alarm clocks, because, let’s face it, they are just the perfect excuse for me to vent.
Don’t these alarm clock tattoos just make you never want to wake me up again, Lauren? Huh!? Don’t they!? Show me the fucking respect I deserve. Once again, I am a tattoo journalist. I’m entitled to it.
(Author’s note: the phrase “Now, I don’t wanna go on a rant here…” is a registered trademark of Dennis Miller and we had to pay him $50 to print it. It was worth it.)