When I was younger and had considerably less tattoos, my grandmother sneered and told me never to get anything on my arms. At the time, I told her that would never happen because I thought it looked trashy. I was lying. I badly wanted to get my arms tattooed, but sometimes lying is okay if you want your grandmother to stop bitching at you about something.

Now I’m 29 and have a half-sleeve on one arm with a 3/4 sleeve being started this May. I’ll probably get one of my forearms done in the near future, as well as my thighs, my left calf (the right is already done), and the few other places that are either still bare or have older pieces on them that could be covered up for something better. The piddly little one-off pieces of my youth have long since been traded in for large scale custom pieces, which is the only way to do it if you’re older than 22 and still being tattooed. I don’t know why I like tattoos so much; I just do, and right now I really can’t conceive of a time when I’ll stop wanting more. But there are a few places on my body that I won’t tattoo.

My hands, for instance. Look, if you want your hands tattooed that’s fine, but as someone who has a semi-impressive collection herself and is pretty liberal about body modification, I still think that tattoos on your hands or knuckles make you look like an unemployable serial killer. You’ve clearly never had a second thought about getting a job that provides health insurance or is at all realistic for your education level, which, let’s face it, is either “high school and some vocational/technical school” or includes a completely useless online degree in something like Philosophy or Comparative Literature. I don’t even know what Comparative Literature is and I don’t have hand tattoos.

Another place I won’t get tattooed is my chest. Chest tattoos aren’t as bad as hand tattoos for employment and I have seen some very impressive pieces, but personally, my tits are just fine and don’t need to be tattooed, thanks very much. If you’re going to get a chest piece, I’d recommend getting something that does not include words or phrases. It’s a bit of a cry for attention, as it’s not enough to see the tattoo on your chest, now you’re asking strangers to read it, too. Oh, and if you get “Carpe Diem” scrawled in cholo letters across the tops of your boobs, I’m going to assume that you spend less time seizing the day and more time seizing dicks. Multiple dicks. At once.

If a tramp stamp is a bullseye for getting a cumshot from behind, then a face tattoo is an invitation to take one in the eye. Sorry, everyone. It’s practically bad judgement science.

Sharing the criminal aspect of knuckle tattoos is neck tattoos. Also, I don’t need to prove to the world how much I love my kids, so I’m not getting their names tattooed on my neck.

Pubis. Seriously? You need some decoration in order to get someone to pay attention to your crotch? Ladies, I don’t know what you’ve been told about what you’ve got down there, but being slutty is fine, okay? You don’t need a tattoo that says “Shangri-La” above your vagina for some guy to enjoy fucking it. Don’t let Dave Navarro tell you any different.

From what I’ve seen in the magazines at the supermarket checkout, lots of young girls in Hollywood are tattooing their ribcages. I guess it’s an easily hideable place and the tramp stamp is over, so why not, right? Well, really, why not. It’s not an unreasonable place to be tattooed, but now that it’s been beaten to death by 19-year-old career bulimic cokeheads, I think I’ll just move elsewhere.

I also won’t tattoo my ass. Who do I think I am, Cher?