Michael gerard bauer author just me rabbiting on coolest 3d tattoos ever

That’s the trouble with life. It’s never just one type of thing, is it? Not like films. With films, you sort of know what you’re in for. If it’s a sci-fi film, you get space, the future, or aliens. If it’s action, you get gun fights and car chases. Unique tattoo designs for guys horror, you get monsters and ghosts and basically shit-scared. Comedy, you get laughs and happy endings. Romance, you get the girl. Or the guy. Depending on your preference. See what I mean? But it’s not the same with life … oh no. With life it’s all over the place. One minute it’s tears. Next minute it’s laughter. Then, just when you think you’re headed for a happy ending, the monsters turn up. Or the aliens. Or someone with a gun. And sometimes there’s a car chase. With a crash.


And someone dies. Yeah, films make a lot more sense to me than life. Plus, they’re a lot easier to walk out of or turn off.

From the bench we have a wide view of the lake. It’s ringed with reeds and water lilies and dotted with ducks and other waterbirds. Cool female back tattoos over near the far bank a series of fountains spray misty columns of white water into the air. In the middle of the lake is an island draped over by a clump of large weeping willows. A flock of white birds are gathering in and around the branches. In the sharp afternoon light they glow like they’re lit from inside. Frida and I take our time to soak up the scene before us. She is the first to comment.

We both look inside. It’s a big space. We’re right at the back of the room and curving rows of padded red and black seats slope down to an elevated stage area with a long bench, a lectern and two massive screens. A few people are still coming in through the lower entrance but the room is almost full. There must be close to three hundred people waiting for a talk to begin.

I follow the girl I now know as frida into the darkened cinema. We enter at the back on the right-hand side. There are plenty of empty seats. Up on the screen the credits of the black and white short are rolling to the sound of a tinny piano. It looks like we’ve actually timed it perfectly. Frida trails a hand on the brick wall as she takes some careful steps down the aisle. She stops a few rows from the back.

Inside the cabinet is a tall bell-shaped jar. Inside the jar is a glass funnel held in position by a metal tripod. The wide mouth of the funnel contains a black substance. A column of the black stuff fills the narrow section of the funnel and a blob of it is hanging off the end. There are also blobs of the black stuff in a bowl sitting directly below the end of the funnel. The whole thing looks like some kind of weird still-life art installation. There’s quite a bit of detailed information on a number of panels behind it, including one entitled the story so far, but all I take in is the main heading.

Now some of you might recall that back in 2011 when my book JUST A DOG was up for a CBCA award in the younger readers category I wrote a blog entitled: blog 17: in which I give some helpful advice to the CBCA judges. And you might also recall that in that blog, mainly as a result of youthful enthusiasm, I may have attempted to boost my chances of winning, by engaging in some very minor character-assassination of my fellow shortlistees.

CONS?: are you serious? Where do I start? It’s a story about a highly strung, possibly unhinged, drawing-obsessed rabbit who loses his favourite pen and then goes ballistic. That’s it! It has no redeeming social values at all! Honestly I tried to look beneath the surface for deeper meaning but all I found was the bottom of the surface. And as for different levels, forget it. It’s all basement, rising damp and exposed plumbing! And to make matters even worse, the disgraceful tantrum that the main character throws is almost directly responsible for him finding his precious pen. What sort of message does this send to children? Lose control, throw a tantrum, go berserk and everything will work out just fine? It’s a disgrace I tell you! And then there’s that ending! Has the world gone completely mad? Surely a kiddies’ book should provide some kind of hopeful and happy resolution? But no. I mean, what sort of a bitter, empty shell of a human being would even consider writing such a thing for impressionable young minds? Seriously, if it wasn’t for the wonderful illustrations I wouldn’t have had the strength to drag myself kicking and screaming through to the final page.

James scobie, ignatius prindabel, bill kingsley and I were sitting at one of the lunch tables in the school yard. James and I were discussing the english homework miss tarango had set us. Across the table, ignatius was hunched over a copy of an extreme mathematics magazine while bill was sucking on a large carton of low-fat low-cal sugar-free vitamin-enriched chocolate milk and staring into deep space.

‘yo dudes! Man you gotta hear this! Come on. Best lower back tattoo designs shove over you guys,’ he said as he straddled the bench, elbowing himself in between bill’s large body and ignatius’s thin one and splitting them apart like bowling pins. While razz made himself comfortable, bill wiped chocolate milk from his chin and ignatius glared at the half page of extreme mathematics that razz’s elbow had caused him to tear off.

‘none of the above,’ ignatius said. ‘it happens to be the number of countries in the world. You said there were thousands of girls in the miss world competition. That’s incorrect. If there’s one contestant from each country, there would only be 196 because there are only 196 countries in the world. Of course, I admit there is some disagreement over the exact figure since the independence of some countries is open to question and debate. Cool first tattoos for guys therefore some reliable sources might state it at a few more or a few less. However 196 contestants would be a very acceptable figure to most people and very close to the mark. In any case, there certainly wouldn’t be thousands.’

‘billy-boy! Good to see that you’ve finally beamed down to join us. Welcome to planet earth! An excellent question from our interplanetary visitor here. Well, all the – one hundred and ninety-six – drop-dead gorgeous chicks are lining up on stage and I’m getting ready for the judging, when someone taps me on my shoulder. But not just any someone. It’s pele himself! I’m not kidding. PELE!’

‘well iggy, the good news is that I’m pretty sure you’ll be the unbackable favourite to scoop the pool again this year at the golden nerd awards. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they give you the life-time achievement award for services to nerdism. Oh and for your information, pele just happens to be the greatest football player who ever lived.’

‘well, in the dream I must have been at a fair of some kind because there was a man selling balloons and he was pumping them up using a large cylinder of propane gas. While I’m watching him, he fills up a big red balloon, ties a string to it and hands it to a little girl and she runs off with it to show her parents. BUT, on the way the little girl trips and falls and she lets go of the string and the balloon floats off into the air. Then the little girl starts crying.’

‘yes. But not what you’re thinking. Real stuff – toys, pictures, books, shells, clothes, even tiny people. Awesome cross tattoos for guys they were all things and people from my life. And when something fell out it turned to smoke and disappeared, so I had to try to keep my head level and still. But the longer the dream went on, the harder it got. The ground became more and more rocky and uneven and there would be big holes everywhere for me to step in. Sometimes the ground just gave away under my feet like ice. And if I tried to just stand in one spot and not move, everything would start shaking and jumping around like an earthquake. The dream always ended the same way. Eventually something would make me trip and fall and then everything in my head would spill out and disappear in a puff of smoke. When I stood back up I couldn’t remember anything, not even who I was.’

‘it’s like I’m in lord of the rings or the hobbit or something because I’m on this long journey. Anyway, at one point I’m right at the top of mount doom and all I have to do is throw the one ring into the fiery pit in order to save the shire and defeat the forces of darkness. But then I look down and the one ring isn’t a ring anymore – it’s a super jumbo-sized cream doughnut. And I’m starving. So before I throw it in and save everyone and become a hero, I just take a few tiny nibbles from around the edges. But when I do, I can’t stop and I end up eating the whole thing! Then mount doom erupts like a volcano except that soft serve ice-cream comes out instead of lava, and I have to start swallowing it to stop from drowning. Then everything gets mixed up because all these spaceships fly in only they’re really giant pizzas and when they land, chocolate-coated star wars storm-troopers charge out and start firing french-fries and tomato sauce at me and I end up catching them all in my mouth …’

I gave razz a pained look, but to be honest, I have had my fair share of kelly faulkner dreams including one where I was a ninja and I ended up saving her from a dangerous gang of evil peg-people. Once I even had a dream about barry bagsley. He wasn’t a bully in the dream like he is in real life. He was a really nice guy and we were good friends. I was kind of sad when I woke up. But I didn’t feel like sharing either of those dreams so I picked a different one.

‘sometimes I have this dream where I’m stuck on the side of a really high mountain and I’m trying to hold on but my fingers are slipping. It’s pretty scary. Then I start to wonder what in the world I’m doing way up there and I realise that of course I must just be dreaming it. So I decide that all I have to do is jump off and let myself fall and nothing will happen to me. The only trouble is, I’m not one hundred percent sure it actually is a dream because it still seems really real. It takes me ages and ages to finally let go and drop. When I do, I wake up.’

When it started I was inside a big, white dome, and the walls of the dome were covered with millions and millions of words. I even found my own name ISHMAEL LESEUR in amongst them in big letters. Then the words started peeling off the walls and they began swirling around everywhere like a snow storm. Some of the words joined and clumped together and they formed into shapes like statues and then the craziest thing happened. Those statues turned into scobie and razz and bill and ignatius and kelly faulkner and lots of other people I know! Then I saw that there were two oval-shaped windows at the front of the dome and I went over and looked through them and there was a whole world out there. Awesome mens tattoos and that’s when I realised that the windows weren’t actually windows at all. They were eyes. Which meant that the dome wasn’t just a dome. It was a head. And we were all inside it! It was like razz, scobie, ignatius, bill and I were running around in someone else’s mind. And that someone had dreamed us all up!