A Quote by Katherine Moennig

I went to this tattoo parlor in the East Village and I got an outline of a violin on my lower back. They call them tramp stamps now. — © Katherine Moennig
I went to this tattoo parlor in the East Village and I got an outline of a violin on my lower back. They call them tramp stamps now.
What really takes me back is when I'm walking around the Lower East Side, because we went to so many places [there] - the bakery, a mannequin store, all these factories with mice running around. That also is very visceral and takes me back. Pool halls, tattoo parlors, all kinds of stuff like that.
My grandfather and his wife came to America at the end of the 19th century from Hungary. Everyone started out on the Lower East Side. They became embourgeoise and would move to the Upper West Side. Then, if they'd make money, they'd move to Park Avenue. Their kids would become artists and move down to the Lower East Side and the Village.
My favorite tattoo right now is the one on my lower stomach that reads "Almost Famous" because as my career grows I'm still humbled every morning when I look at that tattoo, and I'll always remember how much it sucked to ALMOST be famous.
I got my first tattoo when I was 16 years old and I went with my mom to get it done - she has a bunch too so we're tattoo buddies now.
Tattoo on the lower back? Might as well be a bullseye.
One of my favorite facts about Jason [Benjamin] is that he collects shirts from tattoo parlors. He has a bunch of tattoo parlor T-shirts, but no tattoos. And then he wears, like, vans and jeans. My boyfriend said he looks like a modern Bruce Springsteen, which is a pretty high compliment.
I can't think of many places I'd rather spend Saturday afternoon than in a tattoo parlor.
I see a kind of thirst in her expression, the same one I saw when she told me about her brother in the back room of the tattoo parlor. Before the attack simulation I might have called it a thirst for justice, or even revenge, but now I am able to identify it as a thirst for blood. And even as it frightens me, I understand it. Which should probably frighten me even more.
I would say my favorite tattoo is my first tattoo of my father, you know, just the remembrance of him, his legacy and impact that he's had on my life. He passed away when I was a kid, you know, I got the halo with the angel wings on my back.
As hipster chicks age, and their skin starts to sag, tramp stamps sink below waistbands, like the sun slipping into the sea.
I dropped my pants in a tattoo parlor in Amsterdam. I woke up in a waterbed with this funky-looking dragon with a blue tongue on my hip. I realized I made a mistake, so a few months later I got a cross to cover it. When my pants hang low, it looks like I'm wearing a dagger!
I got my first tattoo when I was 14-years-old. Unfortunately I didn't need a signature, which I probably shouldn't of got done, because, you know, it was one of my friends who was a tattoo artist.
These are such First World problems, but there's a certain claustrophobia to New York. You don't escape in the East Village, but it at least feels full of camaraderie and youth - or full of camaraderie and youth in an East Village that is as full of Chase banks and Starbucks as the Upper West Side, or anywhere else in Manhattan.
What are you going to do now? You'll collect loves like stamps. You've got doubles and no one will trade with you. And you've got damaged ones.
I'd spent my first 12 years in New York in an East Village walk-up. The upstairs neighbor was the cowboy from the Village People.
Always watch your back - when I was fourteen I got a tattoo of an eye on the back of my neck, so I could say I was always watchin' my back.
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