1. In high school, on a student council service trip, we passed by a tattoo parlor. Our council president started to name off things that each of the individual council members could have tattooed, like the girl who was also on swim team could have a nice jumping dolphin tattoo’d on her ankle.

For me, it was the word “Anal” (as in -retentive) written in gang lettering on my stomach.

2. One of the attorneys I work for is married to a federal judge. Yesterday, the Judge stopped by the office, and I was able to catch him up on Josh’s post-clerkship job interviews. When I named one of the firms still in consideration, he paused and carefully chose his words to describe the working atmosphere there: high-octane and sweatshop.

I came home and relayed this to Josh, who retorted that isn’t the first time this firm has been called a sweatshop. I told him that if he goes there, he should get one of those inner arm tattoos in fancy script of the word “high-octane”.

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