1. I forget the fake tattoo is there. Several times a day, mildly alarmed, I examine the terrible bruise on my forearm.

2. I take long breaks from my chores to muse about getting a real tattoo. This requires me to sit down and think for a few moments, wondering what I would get, remembering the interview with Don Ed Hardy that makes it clear that all tattoos eventually fade, which I guess I knew, but hadn’t ever really thought about before. Could one design a tattoo that looked better as it faded? I’m getting very little done.

3. I waste additional time Googling “temporary tattoo” and find this site. You can now slap a temporary tattoo on your kids for safety reasons! I particularly like this line (emphasis mine): “CHILD TEMPORARY TATTOO – an un-losable, unobtrusive way to attach your emergency contact information to your child. The child safety tattoos are not meant to replace parents and caregivers taking basic safety precautions when traveling or in the community with their children.” I have no children, so I have no idea if this is useful or if anyone is actually attaching information to their progeny.

I would have liked a warning tattoo on some of the progeny that have come to my house over the years:

Warning: this child will drop one of your favorite sake cups on a marble floor, but it will be your fault because, against all your better judgment, you wanted to appear “child friendly” and let a kid handle your good stuff.

Warning: this child likes to throw grapes at the shoji screens, which will leave a giant purple stain.

Warning: this child will jump on the couch repeatedly, and when you mildly suggest that he stop, he will yell back, “At home I’m allowed!”

Warning: this child, the cutest, most delightful baby in the world, will betray you by remaining perfectly contented all afternoon while you babysit him, and then, just in time for the arrival of his nervous parents, deciding to cry in an anguished and horrifying back-arch and snotfest.

4. Severe depression sets in as I realize that I know nothing, create nothing, all my ideas are shit, my blog sucks, and Ai Weiwei is vastly cooler and smarter and more productive than I will ever be. And I’m stuck with his face on my arm for the next 5 to 7 days.

5. I waste a few minutes each day squishing Ai Weiwei’s head.

6. When the fake tattoo is gone, I’ll miss it.