I hadn't been tanning for a while (or, for that matter, been in the sun any longer than it might take one to get from the house to the car). Because I have the rational thought processes of a used tissue, I told the very nice tanning person that I'd like to go in for 18 minutes. 18 minutes used to be my time. I would go in for 18 minutes and come out with my desired shade. I'm Italian, Greek, and Portuguese so it doesn't take long.
Hi. When I came out I looked less Italian, Greek, or Portuguese and more crustacean. Now I've been peeling for about a week. Attractive.
If I really wanted to, I'm sure I could twist this into some metaphor - shedding the layers of my old life, revealing a newer, healthier one - but, hello, my skin is falling off and that's just plain gross.
Also, for the record, I would much prefer the beach to a tanning salon. Despite hating the sand and the water, I do like the beach. Having been fresh off of The Discovery Channel's Shark Week, though, I was in no mood to be eaten by a great white and, thus, opted for the more artificial method.
Two more nights.
Posted by Taylor on August 13, 2005 @ 12:11 pmI'm actually going to miss a handful of people a lot.
Everyone else, as far as I'm concerned, is just a filthy cake-grubbing whore.
Posted by Taylor on August 10, 2005 @ 10:49 amtomorrow is now today and Wednesday is, in turn, tomorrow and tomorrow is my last day of work. I'm inclined to believe that it was this bit of information that caused me to spring out of bed and skip up the stairs into the shower at 5:30 this morning.
Okay. So. I am going camping. I have never been camping in my life. Sometimes, when people ask if I've ever been camping, I say that I have, but what I'm really referring to is the time I stayed in a cabin in Oklahoma when I was very young. The cabin had a full kitchen and two bathrooms, though (it also stands to be noted that I accidentally left my new blue crayon at that cabin. I think I cried the whole way home. I was tight with my crayons).
This time, however, I'll be sleeping in a sleeping bag inside a tent. I'm going because I think this is my last chance. If I don't go camping this Sunday, I may never be able to go camping ever again for the rest of my life (how often does the opportunity to camp come up?). Also, Angel with be there, along with our friends Vodka, Rum, And Tequila.
There will be a girl on this camping trip who is rumored to be painfully snobbish. It is my goal to out-snob her.
I will do whatever it takes. I will bring 6 different pairs of shoes and 4 different belts for the one-night stay ("Which combo says 'Trees are hot, but not so hot that I would actually touch one' more?"). I will bring my own cooler for my own personal top-shelf vodka. With it I think I'll bring a shaker and a martini glass ("Oh, no, I wouldn't drink your Smirnoff, but if I knick my knee I might need some to sanitize the wound."). I will bring an entire rucksack (because that's what you bring when you go camping, right? A rucksack?) full of Aveda and Kiehl's products ("I just don't know what this gorgeous, woodsy air might do to my skin and hair!").
Wait - I forget. Am I trying to out-snob her or out-gay her?
I may have spent a little extra quality time with the toilet bowl, but, much to my own disbelief, I did not die.
You might have thought that was too much information, but it wasn't. I could very easily have told you what color it was or what it tasted like. That would have been too much information.
In related news, I'm leaving in one week. To say that I'm packed and ready to move across the country would be akin to saying that I'm a mathematical genius or, for that matter, that I could even do simple multiplication. That's to say that it would be a bald-faced lie. I am not packed. I am not ready to go. If I talk about it too much, though, I'm going to either a) stop breathing or b) stop breathing. So, yeah.
In further related news, I've shortened my stay here at work by two days, bumping my final day up to Wednesday. For those of you who might need it broken down, I've created this schematic.
And here's the part where I do my little dance. For those of you who might need it broken down, I've created this schematic.