Chris May didn't find tattooing, it found him. Perhaps the planets were aligned or the excreted pheromones of two locusts fucking sent a deer on a rampage, 100 miles from a 19 -year-old kid looking to get a tattoo of a flaming ant. Probably not. One thing is certain, May considers himself very lucky. It was his first few trips to a tattoo shop that sealed the deal; May would bring a sketchbook full of tattoo ideas to his local artist who thought the drawings inside were "pretty damn good". After...
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erin_broadley
NEWSWIRE
Los Angeles, CA
NOV 27, 2007 06:00 AM