I'll take my crack monkey slightly toasted, thanks.
Quality daytime pool-side chilling is in severe order for the weekend. Seeing how I'm still in the dark as to how much the insurance will pay to have my car fixed ($1000 worth of damage from a 2mph parking lot bump - OMG!!1), I'm trying not to dip into the pocketbook as much in order to pad the savings account for what could be a major blow to its figurative solar plexus. Scrimping & saving + pale skin from being in an office too much + catching up on snoozes + pile of books I need to finish reading = the perfect excuse to wear an ass groove in a plastic lounge chair, methinks.I will, however, dip into the pocketbook for a tube of sunscreen*. Healthy, protected glow good. Searing pain bad.
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*File under "Stupid stuff I did as a Wee Crack Monkey"
During the summer in the early teen years, Moms would be at work and we'd take full advantage of our bitchin' house. Stocked freezer full of pizza pockets and ice cream, plenty of Dr. Peppers, and a friggin' huge pool complete with diving board, basketball hoop, volleyball net and spa.
So, the gals (and the boys, teehee) would come over so we could work on our tans and show off on the diving board and in general be little kids trying to act older. My friend Wendy and I realized we had no tanning oil one day and it was unfathomable to lay out without being coated and glistening in oil. We raided the panty. And grabbed the Crisco. Not the oil. The solidified lard in a cylindrical container.
I'm smarter now. No, really. It was a little disconcerting to feel and smell like fried chicken. But damn, we were hot.
picked from the vine by sv @ 5:29 PM
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