Mostly Wordless Wednesday…

I’ve neglected this silly blog. Sorry about that. Now, in honor of Wordless Wednesday,  and clearly, too many empty bottles lying face down in my recycle bin, here’s this week’s contribution.

Somewhere in the PUNGENT zone sits "cat pee"

I suspect ‘cat pee’ resides somewhere in the PUNGENT zone, yes?

“Like” if you’re an Oenophile.


Wordless Wednesday

Is this you?

Can you resonate with this?

Do you wish you were this?


(Mostly) Wordless Wednesday

Does this guitar make my fingers look fat?

I recently bought this acoustic guitar (pronounced geeh-tarr) and starting plucking the chords. I suck at strumming for the record.

And I haven’t picked it up in 2 weeks. In honor of (mostly) Wordless Wednesday, I vow to pluck this sucker when I get home, after my final Zibu tattoo is inked. And after my first martini is shaken…


Winking, drinking, and giggling

Sadly, this is the final post in my series about tattoos. But this one – it’s all about me. MEEEEE. Just as nature *ahem* the bold Biscuit, intended.


So my fascination with tattoos began with my Dad. He was by no means Mr. Tattoo, but he had a couple that were just so HIM to me. He was a navy man, and quite ironic (like ME) it turns out.  You see, he put “anchor’s aweigh” on his right shoulder and on the left – “Popeye” smoking his corn cob pipe. To me this was so totally “Popeye, the sailor man!” and pure navy-man awesomeness. Popeye was even winking. Today, I sorta feel like all of this was telling me something. A symbolic totem winking and mocking. So totally me. And if you follow my main blog, y’all see the irony in my masthead.

Now, I hadn’t really thought about getting my own tattoo until after I was in my twenties and then I couldn’t decide what to get. Not cuz I’m fickle, but because I needed it to really be all about me. And who the hell was that anyway? Besides a smart ass with a great shoe collection.

Then, 9/11 happened and like a flash of bright light, my light bulb lit up and I knew what I wanted and immediately went for it. Like 2 days later.

Wallflower? Fucking irony bitches!

Those that know me know what a dirty vodka girl I am, but my first love remains with vino. Which is good, because had I first been a vodka whore, this tattoo would be wheat stalks. So not sexy.

BTW, the tattoo artist’s name was Curly and he looked like one of the dudes in ZZ Top. Long scraggly beard, jeans and leather vest. Ab-fab perfect! He told me this tattoo would hurt and as me and my half naked body dangled off a typewriter’s swivel chair, I did break a sweat and maybe once asked him to stop. I love this tattoo for a variety of reasons – but the one that sticks in my mind is this: I stopped waffling between “Can I?” and “I Can!”

Now, my second tattoo is also very special to me – again, for a variety of reasons. It represents a very special time in my life. You see, back when I was a badass teenager, my besties were T-bomb and Suz. You’d find us either rex-style rollerskating, dancing at Tiffany’s, or having huge parties at my house. (Rock the fuck on! \m/_._\m/)

Then we all got married, they had kids and we all sorta fell outta touch. Later, Facebook reconnected us back together within days (thanks FB!)

And we quickly made plans for a girl’s weekend. Suz flew out here and we spent the weekend pretty much drunk the whole time. For those of you who know me, this is so not surprising. 😉

As part of the rekindling of our “girl-fueled and girl-powered badassness” we decided we MUST get a matching tattoo. I even wrote a big post about it on my first blog so if you want the whole story – come check this out. Three stars woven together. To us, it means “Like stars in the sky, you can’t always see your friends, but they are there and share your hopes and dreams.”

We all put the tattoo in the same place. With the same colors. Suz is green (just cuz), T-bomb is pink (princess), and I am purple (royal bitch). For those that know me, this is so not a surprise.

It took 2 hours for our hot-as-hell female tattoo artist to ink T-bomb. TWO HOURS. T-bomb was panting and sweating and shaking. Poor girl. Poor wimpy princess 😉  *she’s with me right now and pouting over this comment*

It took 30 minutes to do mine. It might have been quicker had I not skirmed with a fit of giggles during the inking. Yes – I’m ticklish. I like anything that makes me laugh. 😉

Our bond is there regardless of where we are in our lives or in the world. Every time we pull up our big girl panties, wearing our matching Tiffany’s Eternal Circle pendants, we will be: Strong. Confident. Courageous. Outrageous. And yes, Badass!

And like all the others before me, and after me, I am hooked and love the tattoos I have and where they are and why I did this. If I had my druthers, I would get another. And no, I don’t give a rat’s ass what someone thinks of this old broad sporting some ink on my body. And finally, yes, for those of you who know me, this is so not a surprise. After all, I’m crazy that way.


Thanks for reading the tattoo series posts. I hope they’ve inspired, delighted, surprised, or even annoyed you. It’s been our collective pleasure to share our stories and art.

Come stalk my super awesome and super crazy adventures over on my main blog Boldly Mocking. And thanks for visiting Just Biscuit cuz … that is all…

About bomshells and flowers…

One of my dearest, sassiest, crazaziest and longest friends…. is the 2nd to last of this particular series on my fascination – errrrr – obsession with tattoos. The last one will be mine. And I suppose partly hers too. You see, we share more than just the bond of youth and badassness. Sisterhood and antics. We share the same tattoo. Aaaaannnnddd serious fucking secrets, dreams, wishes and whatnot that will last a lifetime. Our bond is THAT strong.

However, today, this is my friggin-a hottie bombshell real-life best gal pal T’s story. Oh, why do I call her bombshell? Oh yes, please click that link. Doooo iiiiitttt!!!! We are talking hijinx, mayhem, and abso-frickin-lutely antics with me and the mighty T. Cuz, after all, she’s my best friend!! \m/ ROCK THE FUCK ON!!


When T-bomb was about to hit a milestone age (yes, let the mind wander…), she decided she wanted to do something for her. Something colorful, bright and bold, like her!

She wanted hibiscus, because it reminds her of summer. It blooms when it’s hot. And that’s kinda sexy and definitely bold, like her!

She designed the art herself – a cascading pattern from her shoulder to her waist. Six flowers in all. And she found the place she wanted to “do her”. Yes, perverts, as in “ink her!” (Biscuit here: OMG, she’s sort of NOT a perv. Sort of.)

So back then, she was married, and the hubs rode her out there on the back of their Harley. She was badass.

And since she’s kinda a girlie girl, (Biscuit here: meaning, she’s a freaking wimp about needles. Yeah, I outed her), she decided to only get ONE flower done in this visit… (Biscuit here: I forgive her for reasons in next post!)

When the flower was done, she had the artist put her first initial under it, along with her husband’s and her two beautiful children.

Blonde. Freckles. Hotness. That's T.

And like most people who get inked, she knew it wouldn’t be long before she would want to continue the cascade of flowers.

This year, in special commemoration to her angel mother who passed away from a horrific struggle with brain cancer last year, she will place another flower in her chain because the love and importance she held in T’s life. She is her angel. And she will forever be on my girl’s shoulder.

And also, one more flower for T-bomb. Because, as her divorce is now final, and her life now begins afresh, she embarks on the most amazing journey. She’s not waiting for all the adventures to begin. She’s starting them. And that’s why she loves tattoos. They make her feel sexy and alive. And right now, she’s living.


My BFF is precious, priceless and a princess. Deserves the tiara and the happily ever after. If you ever get lucky enough to meet her, you’ll understand.

Until then, enjoy glimpses of her suddenly single side when I share them. Ala bombshell bravado and push up bras. Cuz. That’s how we roll!

And in about tw0 short weeks, she and I will be taking our hot asses to my cabin for a much needed sassy girl’s only weekend. And whatnot! *wink*

Cherry blossoms and southern comfort

Today’s tattoo pictorial comes from my twitter sister, I call her my #twister because we have so much in common. We both love stilettos and even have posted pics of the same shoes. God love this southern belle. But when she shared her story and tattoo pic, I fell just a smidge more in wubba with her. This is Cynthia’s story.


I’d always loved tattoos on others but never got one myself due to the old caveat “Make sure you get something on you that you’re gonna want to see the rest of your life”.  So when my mother passed away, I knew it was time and I wanted to memorialize and honor her in some way in an effort to humbly convey how very special her years had been.

I wanted something worthy of defining the woman, sister, mother, and grandmother she had been.  And so I waited for that moment – that strike of lightning to fall from the sky to let me know this was the image.

As I approached my 35th birthday, it struck.  You see, my mom had been in picture perfect health until she turned 35.  Two weeks after her birthday she drove herself to the local urgent care center for what she thought was a broken rib. Within 24 hours, she was transferred to a high-risk cardiac unit, diagnosed with cardiomyopathy, and told that a transplant would be her only hope of living beyond the next 4 months.

So as I approached my 35th birthday, all the memories of what happened to her began to surface and it seemed like she was on my mind and in my heart even more than usual.

One afternoon, while absentmindedly googling who knows what, I stumbled upon tattoo images of cherry blossoms, which represent the fragile, fleeting nature of life, as well as a symbol of power and feminine beauty. I knew this would be my memorial tattoo.

I couldn’t get it inked fast enough – but knew the whole symbolism of the experience meant I would do this exactly on my 35th birthday. I went alone, partially because I was afraid I may cry (I’m such a wuss when it comes to pain) and also because this was a moment between my mom and I.

Just stunning

My artist, Eric, understood that I wanted it to be kind of sad but also kind of hot – I mean, come on, I’m still a girl and wanted it to be physically attractive too! He traced out our own abstract representation of the cherry blossom flowers with no definite outlines and a winding, bent tree. He also placed a little petal along the bottom and came up with the part that is my favorite aspect of the tattoo by far…the word FOREVER – in her handwriting, inked beneath the cherry blossom tree. Lifted from a note she had written to me for my high school graduation – a little part of her that will always be with me.

Five hours later, no tears but a lot of “Oh hell Eric, can we take a breather” requests and my artwork was complete – and it was simply perfect.  Exactly as I had imagined it in my head and in my heart.  My trial by fire (because that’s exactly what that damn needle felt like every time it went into my ribs) was finished and I had a memorial tattoo for my mom that was worthy to represent all those wonderful memories of such an amazing woman.


Now you see why I love this girl. Her story gave me chills and her art is simply stunning. She is as whimsical as she is gorgeous, both in body and spirit. You can get to know her on twitter by requesting to follow: @cynthiap713

That’s not my ass

Today’s tattoo post showcases a terrific lady I met jeez about a year ago now. She is an awesome writer and story-teller. She agreed to share the story about how she broke the news about her tat to her mom. This is @thenicknick‘s story.


So I went and got a matching tattoo with one of my best friends when I was 19. Needless to say, I don’t even speak to her anymore. 😉

But that’s not the story.

The story is really about my mom’s reaction when I told her six months later that I got a tattoo. We were just grabbing Dairy Queen and I knew she was going to pay, so I left my purse at home.

Well, she hadn’t said much about the tattoo, although I could tell she was thinking about it and possibly stewing. But, we get through the meal okay, and I go to get her a free sundae. Except she wanted nuts, and I didn’t have the quarter. Like a nine year old, I had to go get a quarter from my mother. That’s when she lost it.

MOM: WHAT? You can afford to get a tattoo on your ASS, but you can’t afford to get nuts on your mother’s sundae?

My sister shot soda out of her nose. My mother NEVER curses, and there she was shouting out ‘ass’ in public. I slid into the booth and looked at her very calmly.

ME: It’s not my ASS, it’s my hip. Do I need to get you a copy of Grey’s anatomy? I swear it’s my HIP. MOM: It’s covered by your pants, isn’t it?

ME: Well, no wonder my thighs are so big, by that definition, they’re part of my ASS!

She reluctantly gave me the quarter and I reluctantly got her a sundae with nuts. Then it hit me. My mom is crazy, which explains the nuts.


@TheNickNick is the first blogger I met. She added me to her blog roll and for that I will forever love this crazy southern hussy. Not to mention she’s a kickass writer and all around joy to be around. You can read more of her adventures on her blogs:

Suddenly Single Journey
What Dreamers Do
And her new business… Rentable Me