What's this white stuff?

So, I went tanning the other day. I'm not like a big tanner, nail getter doner, or anything of the type. (I'm the girl who wears her "good pajama pants" to the store remember?) Anyway, like I said I decided to go tanning.

You see we are leaving Thursday for Disneyland and then a cruise and I want to look cute. Shame me if you like but I would prefer that the glare off of my transparent skin didn't compete with the glare off the ocean.

So I go tanning. I'm wearing my red and blue plaid pajama pants and one of Jon's old shirts with a big old spaghetti stain on it. I walk in to be greeting by two enthusiastic high school girls in their bikinis and board shorts. They were behind the counter surfing the Internet and eating veggies out of a plastic sack. It was these two geniuses who were running the shop.

Genius #1 says: This white stuff is SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO good! What is it?
Genius #2 says: It's broccoli, no, it's called cauliflower.
Genius #1: Cauliflower?
Genius #2: Yeah, you should ask your mom about it. She probably knows how to make it.

At this point I interrupted the cuisine lesson, paid $6.50 for 6 minutes in a ruva bed and then trusted said rocket scientists to light up the bazillion watt bed I was about to crawl inside.

Safe? Of course I felt safe. Who wouldn't with those two at the wheel? In fact, I felt so safe I've yet to return. So much for looking cute.

My Tribute To Micheal Jackson

So in elementary school my best friend and I entered the talent show with a rockin routine. We wore matching red and white braided headbands then I dressed in a red leotard, white tights, and red leg warmers while she sported a white leotard, red tights, and white leg warmers. We were so cool.

Then, as if the coordinating outfits weren't enough to highlight our talents, we did an aerobic Jane Fonda style dance routine to none other than Michael Jackson's "Beat It". (Right now both of you who read this blog are hearing the Dun da dun dun dun, DUN da DUN DUN beginning of the song playing in your head. And if you weren't you are now.)

It was pretty awesome. Too awesome actually because we didn't win. Those teachers had no appreciation for talent, or they were just jealous. Yeah, that must have been it.

Anyway, thank you Micheal Jackson for giving me the sound track to my talent show debut and for the hours of entertainment you provided my friends and I as we watched, paused, and reviewed my VHS copy of Thriller in an order to memorize every single dance move. You were indeed bad, you know it.