Tattoos

A woman walks into a tattoo parlour.

'Do you do custom work?' she asks the artist.

'Why of course!'

'Good. I'd like a portrait of Robert Redford on the inside of my right
thigh, and a portrait of Paul Newman on the inside of my left thigh.'

'No problem,' says the artist. 'Strip from the waist down and get up on the
table.'

After two hours of hard work, the artist finishes. The woman sits up and
examines the tattoos.

'That doesn't look like them!' she complains loudly.

'Oh yes it does,' the artist says indignantly, 'and I can prove it.' With
that, he runs out of the shop and grabs the first man off the street he can
find; it happens to be the town drunk.

'Well, what do you think?' the woman asks, spreading her legs. 'Do you know
who these men are?'

The drunk studies the tattoos for a couple of minutes and says. 'I'm not
sure who the guys on either side are, but the fellow in the middle is
definately Willie Nelson!'