This column represents, in two respects, a continuation of last time's.  Consider it a sequel-not by design, but by effect.

First, if you are a careful reader, like Mr. Jeremy Glen, lately of Roanoke, Virginia ("The Noke"), you know that, in the last issue, I promised a shout-out to the first person to email me with the location of the Radio Shack nearest the E Street Red Cross Donation Center.  The selfsame Mr. Glen writes: "There are TWO within walking distance of GW-2117 L Street NW, 1835 K Street NW."  He personally vouches for the L Street location.

With that burning question resolved, we now turn to the second thread of continuity.  You may recall that I ended the last column with a resolution to get a new tattoo.  Usually one to keep my resolutions, it came to pass that last Wednesday I ventured forth to Fatty's Custom Tattooz.  You've probably seen the signs for Fatty's before, because it is right next to Big Hunt and Café Citron, two of your favorite establishments.  Be proud of who you are.

Fatty's is well known among DC tattoo and piercing parlors, due in large part to the overall quality of its personnel and product.  For this reason, although walk-ins are accepted, you may end up needing to make an appointment, particularly if you want the inimitable Fatty to do the inking.  Although I'm positive the other tattoo artists at Fatty's are excellent at their craft, Fatty himself is highly accomplished.  Plus, hey, if you're going to get a tat, you might as well get it from the guy the parlor is named after, right?

In my case, I've gotten ink from Fatty in the past, and, given that it was an excellent experience, I saw no reason not to go with him again.  He is, admittedly, a bit more expensive than other area tattoo artists.  But he is a well-regarded tattoo artist as well.  And, truth be told, getting a tattoo is sort of like commissioning a painting.  If you want somebody who knows what they're doing, you're going to have to fork over more dough than you would if you go with your brother-in-law who took one high school art class 18 years ago.

When I arrived at Fatty's, he was running a bit behind schedule (a good 45 minutes, actually; but if you think about it, that's a lot more efficient than, say, the Georgetown DMV).  This gave me time to consider the waiting room accoutrements.  During my first visit to Fatty's, the waiting room contained two inexplicably uncomfortable couches and all sorts of tattoo samples-ranging from Jesus to lesbian demons-on the walls.  Today, the couches remain, but the décor now consists of Fatty's original canvases, many of which seem to apply a science-fiction-esque aesthetic to Hindu mythological subjects.  It's genuinely interesting stuff.

During the first part of my wait, Fatty was happily doing paperwork and stenciling out other customers' tattoo designs whilst listening to Marketplace on public radio.  Just after he started tattooing my friend, who had the appointment before me, the atmosphere changed markedly, as one of the piercers-I think his name was Jody-arrived.  Jody and Fatty are apparently long-time death metal fans, and Jody had just acquired a new album in that genre that he was eager to share with Fatty and, by extension, the rest of us.  And so we went from Kai Ryssdal's entertaining economic commentary to the chugging guitars, growling vocals, and rumbling double bass drums characteristic of death metal.

I've found that Fatty is an excellent conversationalist; indeed, his ability to talk about virtually any topic at some length goes a long way to offsetting the discomfort associated with the whole process.  I'm pretty decent with handling pain, but, honestly, the tattoo gun sounds like a dentist's drill and feels like a belt sander.  You want to have a discussion to take your mind off of what is actually happening.  When it came time for my tattoo, we began with a discussion of how Rogaine, applied to the chest, apparently increases the chance of a heart attack, progressed through an assessment of Pro Tools and digital 8-track recorders, and considered the ramifications of the previous day's election results.  Through it all, Jody occasionally commented on his sister's drinking patterns and downloadable content for the PS3.  And the death metal churned on.

When all was said and done, I had a lovely, sharp, well-defined custom tattoo.  Out of two longhorn bull skulls, Fatty's Custom Tattooz gets two-the exact number of such skulls that stare out from the walls of the tattoo studio.

This brings us to the close of the semester.  Tune in next time, when I will review the Amtrak dining cars!