The barbed wire tattoo on your bicep was the result of too many kamikazes in Cancun. That ruby-red puckered pout on your neck was a gift to yourself February 14, 1998. And the teardrop on your cheek — well, if we said it, we’d be considered an accessory to the crime. No matter how corny or creepy, each inch of ink has a story. Once you’ve gone under the needle once, it’s hard to stop. This Friday through Sunday, tat addicts... More >>>