Tag Archives: best friends

SURPRISE Dear Diary!

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See the sparkle on her head? That's not her halo, that's her awesome locally made crown.

See the sparkle on her head? That’s not her halo, that’s her awesome locally made crown.

Last night I went to a surprise party for one of my best friends. I met this guy years ago when our kids were in nursery school. I didn’t really know him too well, I knew his wife and I loved her. She was a RIOT! She made every field trip fun. After she passed away, my friend and his son moved in a few houses down from me. Since that time he has stepped seamlessly into the role of older brother to me and uncle to my children. He’s a real good guy. AND he has the only inground pool in the neighborhood. So, yeah, he rocks.

The party was excellent. I got to hang out with all of our friends from the neighborhood and his honey’s family. I really like his honey. She’s a good gal. Makes sense. For his gift, my kids and I thought of all sorts of things he will need as now he is OLD. We gave him a gift bag filled with ear plugs, ginko biloba, reading glasses, denture cleaner, prunes, and a bunch of other old people stuff…I labeled each thing with a tag explaining why he needed it. The funniest part was listening to him read the explanations.

After the party I came home, let the dog out to pee, patted myself on the back for not getting spaghetti sauce on my white shirt and worked on a present for my other best friend. I didn’t literally pat myself on the back because my neck/shoulder/nerve issue is ongoing. Yeah, thanks for asking. So, I wanted to get her a spa day package but  then I remembered I am poor. So, I thought a  singing telegram would be wicked fun! But I am a really bad singer and I don’t know anything about telegrams or Morse Code or knitting or football. Flowers? It’s February so there are none. How about…a sash, a crown and a box of matches???? Perf!!!! So, I cut up a bunch of paper, duct taped that shit together, added some stickers and BLAM! Birthday Girl sash!! But she would need a crown…a crown…ofcourse I know I have a crown or two somewhere in this house. I have 3 daughters. It’s sort of a law that girls need a crown/tiara in their possession at all times. My bff has all boys so, she needed a crown. Lucky for her, I know how to make one out of pipe cleaners. Even luckier, I had sparkly pipe cleaners!

So, this morning I woke up, showered, and the dog and I went to the bagel shop, Starbucks and then to the market where my bestie sells her incredible soy candles (wittywicks.com <— check it out). I walked in and taped her sash on her, stuck her crown on her head and we laughed and laughed. She is such a good sport. I love her so.

I left, came home, cleaned a bit, then went shopping. I went to the movies, I got a pedicure and then I had a lovely dinner with another friend. Now I am tired so the dog and I are snuggled on the couch in anticipation of the Stupid Bowl tomorrow!!! The best part of tomorrow will be the party that our friends throw every year. PLUS it’s Groundhog Day!!! Tomorrow is going to be EPIC! This has been a fantastic weekend despite my neck/shoulder/nerve pain (you really don’t care do you?).

There is one store I go to whenever I go to the mall. It sells purses and such. Every time I go in the saleslady greets me. I say hello back and proceed to check out the merchandise. When I stop to take a closer look at a pocketbook I might like, she swoops in and tries to sell it to me. I get so annoyed that I just leave. Just because I check a price doesn’t mean I need a tutorial on how this particular handbag was one price but is now another price. One time I picked up a bag just to see the other side, she came running over, talked it up and then took it to the register to check the price. I didn’t say one word. She just assumed because I picked it up that I wanted to buy it. I didn’t. So, I keep trying to shop there but I get so irritated with the help that I just leave. Today I wanted to tell the saleslady to step off and let me breathe. She is such a turnoff really. I wish someone would kidnap her and tie her up in the back room so I could just purse shop in peace.

I am an expert in making bad decisions.

Going into Pier One is like going into a bar I used to hang out at but stopped when I quit drinking.

 Lesson #1: when attending a surprise party and the guest of honor is arriving everyone should crouch awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Lesson #1: when attending a surprise party and the guest of honor is arriving everyone should crouch awkwardly in the middle of the room.

 

Dear Diary… Day One

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One of my fav Christmas ornament that hung on my dad's tree. It's really cool...and small.

One of my fav Christmas ornament that hung on my dad’s tree. It’s really cool…and small.

When I was 19 I kept a diary for a whole year. That impresses me to no end. I am not very good on the follow through. I am a great starter and then I try to hand off the project onto someone else. But no one wanted to take over writing my diary for me. So,the year I was 19, I made a commitment to myself to write every single night even if it was just a list of what I did that day. And I DID it!!!! I remember some days having to go back and fill in the previous day but so what! I wrote every single day!!! Sort of…

I found this diary a few years ago and it was boring. I mean, most of it was “went here with soandso, then went there with whatshisface then came home”. The only thing I found really intriguing was that I ended every single entry with my desire to stop a bad habit that I had acquired. I guess I didn’t realize how much I hated doing what I was doing but there must have been some part of me that didn’t want to be doing it.

So,today I decided to write every day. And share it. Just daily stuff. Just for kicks…my kicks. You have to find your own kicks. Here goes :

Today, I woke up with my 10 year old snuggled in bed with me and our cat Eddie purring like a machine on top of my head. The sun was shining in my eyes and my head and neck hurt. I got up, took Tylenol and went back to bed because I know for a fact that my 10 year old is not going to want to snuggle forever and because it was cold in my house.

Got up, woke up the 15 year old. Told her to walk the dog who has been in his crate for 10 hours and put my bra on to go to the bagel shop. Went to the bagel shop, came home, showered. Had a kaniption fit because NPR was rehashing the Baby Veronica story and adoption is a subject close to my heart. Dropped the 15 year old off to her babysitting gig. Took the 10 year old to go see The Hunger Games- Catching Fire for the second time.

The movie was as good as it was the first time we saw it last month. The audience was PACKED. Sold out. The lady behind me kicked my seat over 43 times in the 2 hours we were there. That’s the one thing that can make me go postal instantly…anyone kicking the back of my seat. At the movies, in the car, at a restaurant…like bizzerko. About the 20th time I raised both of my arms in the air and sighed with loud exasperation. The 40th time I sort of scream/shouted “ARE YOU REALLY?” I then came up with a kick ass idea to have business cards printed up saying “I am not crazy. If I start acting crazy it is because YOU are doing something so insanely rude/annoying/inhumane that my only option is to act crazy. Just a friendly FYI if you can’t be in society then you should not be in society.” or something to that effect so that the idiots will know that I am not just a lunatic and my behavior is a direct result of them being an asshole.

Took the kid to Applebees because we had a gift certificate and had dinner. She got wings. They were awful. We  found out how to play the gambling game at the table but didn’t play it.

As we were leaving, my 19 year old came in with her bff. That was fun! Gave her a hug on our way out. Stopped at Taco Bell to get the kid a soft taco so she didn’t starve to death and came home.

She took the dog out for a pee and they came in and snuggled on the couch whilst I debated about actually starting this Write Every Day Even If It Is Nonsense thing.

So, here we are, in the year 2014. I might continue this, I might not. From what I have heard, watching Sesame Street as a child gave me a short attention span.

NYC has a new mayor.

I love my dog.

My favorite candy since I was 15 years old. Prior to that I was scared to try it

My favorite candy since I was 15 years old. Prior to that I was scared to try it

Little Black Dress + Gorilla Glue Duct Tape = 50 Shades Of Ow

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So this past weekend an old friend got married. Ok, we aren’t old, but we have known each other for many years….well, not many years because that would make us old. You know what I mean. We did theater together as teens and were both part of the punk scene. I love this guy! He is funny and stunningly beautiful and kind and talented. And he’s my friend. I am so lucky to have the coolest friends in the whole world. I know this. For many years I put my friends aside, not that I wanted to but because my attention was forced to be elsewhere. Despite my dysfunctions, when I got free, my friends were right there, along with a whole bunch of new friends.

Look! No duct tape involved....

Look! No duct tape involved….

This weekend was the first time in years and years and years that I have traveled sans children! I was SO EXCITED!!!! I drove to Albany then took the train to Penn Station, met my girlfriend who I was staying with and who was my date to the wedding!! I felt so grown UP!!! Just like I used to when I was a teen who would hop in the car and drive to where ever whenever. Or check the bus schedule and take off to another state or jump on a plane with my Walkman and dramamine….When I had kids and got married that all stopped. We traveled but it was with kids ofcourse.

I packed lightly, a couple of dresses and shoes to choose from. Silly because I totally knew which dress I wanted to wear to the wedding. One that I had bought but really was never going to have an opportunity to wear it cause it is rather funky. But this wedding called for funky. I was going to be with friends who actually remember me when I had half a head of hair and combat boots and dressing up meant a prom gown from the 50’s and Converse. But this dress has an issue (ofcourse it does).

Let me explain, the dress is black, with a tight, spandex-y tank dress underneath that comes to mid-thigh and a very sheer overlay that comes to above the knee in the front and longer in the back. It’s really a great dress. But like I said, funkier than what would be expected of this single mom of three daughters in my little world. And….it rides up. Yeah, like…way up. There is no bending over in this dress which wasn’t going to be a problem as I had no kids with me. Kids are usually the reason moms have to bend over. BUT, walking also makes the dress rise. And dancing. And breathing. And standing still. Ok, so obviously I need some duct tape.

I ask my girlfriend and she runs down the 4 flights to her friend who owns this super cool Japanese antique store just next door. She comes back with packing tape and Gorilla Glue duct tape. I choose the Gorilla Glue duct tape because it was black and Gorilla Glue is superior so their duct tape will probably be also. I fold the tape over on itself and stick it to the side of my bare thigh and then stick the dress to the tape. I do the same on the other leg. It isn’t really working as well as I thought it would. So, I do a piece on the back of my thigh. Hhmmm….well, even though it isn’t really working to keep my dress down I just leave it because well, because I THOUGHT it was a good idea and I am just not willing to give up on my theory. Meanwhile, my girlfriend and I are deciding what she is going to wear, checking jewelry and shoes and doing our hair. We look good. Her boyfriend offered to drive us to the event! Score!!!

We totter down the four flights of stairs in our highest heels and plop into his car. At this point I am sort of bummed that my tape idea wasn’t really working but I figure it is night time, no one is going to notice or care if my “mom” panties are showing are a little. Maybe they will think it’s a new cool trend (yeah…for 40 year old single moms who NEVER leave the house…cool “trend” Lady) My girlfriend and I renewed our long standing promise (me:you tell me if my panties show! her: yup. You tell me if my boobs are hanging out) A promise we made and have kept for over 25 years now.

I'm actually glued to my seat here...I would like to say it is in anticipation of this incredible union of souls...but mostly it is because of the damn duct tape....

I’m actually glued to my seat here…I would like to say it is in anticipation of this incredible union of souls…but mostly it is because of the damn duct tape….

We get to the venue and as I get out of the car I realize the heat from my leg and the pressure from sitting on the duct tape has activated the Gorilla Glue and it is stuck! MY PLAN WORKED!!! HA HA HA!!!! I AM A GENIUS!!!!! Except…wait….when I sat down in the car, the dress rode up, as did the tape and now it is stuck just below my ass. Oh this is bad. It is really bad. You can SEE the under dress and the hem is down in the front and WAY UP in the back. I look like…well….like I have stuck my dress to my butt. EMERGENCY!! EMERGENCY!! I grab my girlfriend and as we are standing on the sidewalk outside the venue, I pull up the sheer overlay dress and say “Do it.” She looks at me, I look at her and we know. This is going to hurt. Alot. I have basically superglued my dress to the bare skin just under my ass. As I am standing there with my dress hiked up and my best friend ready to rip it off of my leg, I realize that this is my life. This has always been my life. I am friends with women who would have never thought to duct tape their dress to their leg. Some of them would have actually bought special skin tape to do it and some would have never tried to wear the dress in the first place. But me? Me I wear the dress, with the Gorilla Glue duct tape, and I know that not only will my girlfriend will rip it off fast, but that my friends inside will not judge me on my duct taped dress. Hell,  my friends actually used to have  entire wardrobes made out of duct tape no doubt. We are a very creative bunch.

She rips, I cry. I was shocked at how bad it hurt! I think I am going to need a skin graph….luckliy it wasn’t bleeding. And then we start giggling because really, who would have thought we would be standing on a sidewalk in the middle of Brooklyn, going to our dear friend’s wedding, with my skirt hiked up and her ripping duct tape off my ass…If anyone had told us this is where we would be 25 years ago we probably would have…..believed them….

Best friends have rules. We tell each other if boobs are hanging out, if underwear is showing, if we have something in our teeth, if we have a booger, and if we have lost the plot….new rule: friends never let friends use duct tape in inappropriate places on their body. Now we know.

I swear, I can't take me anywhere...

I swear, I can’t take me anywhere…

 

Getting To Know You….

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This is not me. But it gives you an idea..minus the sword and the boob....

 Perhaps a little too well. I had the first legitimate costume malfunction….Way before Janet and Justin made it a “mainstream” thing to do. I’m no sell out, I am the originator.

When we were 19 (I think…it’s all a bit hazy…read on, you’ll understand why), my best friend and I were in a production of The King and I. This was before she was famous. We were just kids. Anyway, she was Topsy and I was Simon of Legree. We didn’t do anything until the big ballet of The Small House Uncle Thomas. I choreographed the whole ballet (I think, at least it feels like I did). Topsy had pigtails and was the funny one. Her movement was mostly done in a wide second position stance, like a sumo wrestler, with alot of head wobbles to make her pig tails bounce. My best friend, who is not a dancer, did this particular move with such precision that it was as if she were born to be Topsy (she still does this move with hysterical accuracy). I was the bad guy, I had a sword and a mask that I couldn’t see out of, and alot of lifts. I was being lifted by two huge, local, body builders who had no clue how to lift anything except a dumbbell (wait for dumbbell joke…it’s coming).

Anyway, the show opened and we had a pretty good crowd. Backstage was hopping with two body builders and the promise of doing the show ON TOUR!! I am ready for my entrance, which consisted of me being carried out by the two body builders, tossed into the air, and landing in a second position with my sword in the ready position to attack…. I proceed on with my dance and then I am eventually carried off, as I am dead. Sounds like a good outline of the way it was supposed to go. Backstage, good thoughts, visions of how it will all come together, total trust in the body builders, and no thought about the mask I was wearing and not having any peripheral vision. I am carried out, I AM Simon of Legree, the music swells, the body builders toss me into the air….. and….. accidently throw my legs out from under me. From a height of about 8 feet above the stage, I drop like, well, a dumbbell (there it is… ha ha) and hit the stage with a crashing thud, on my ass. My plastic sword breaks into pieces and goes flying into the front row. A little old lady was hit by the shrapnel, had a flash back to WWII and ran screaming for the bomb shelter which was still open in the basement of the theater. After her scream subsided, you could have heard a pin drop. There was total silence from the audience of 200.The music stopped, the director, who was in the audience, starts to run towards the stage, and Topsy, backstage, is in a fit of hysterical laughter.I am sitting on the stage where I landed, spread eagle on my back, with just the handle of my sword hoisted in the air. I got up, nod to the orchestra, all of whom were frozen with silent looks of horror on their faces. I nod again, and they still are not playing, I clear my throat…if this wasn’t awkward before, now it is. Finally, the musical director regains her composure and begins the music. I do my dance faster than any dance has ever been done in the history of dance, because I am embarrassed and I have totally lost my composure, not that anyone could see because I have a mask on, oh yeah and my ass is killing me! The musical director was having trouble keeping up with me as she was damn sure I wasn’t about to keep time with her. And I exit stage left, not dead, not carried. I get backstage and Topsy is literally rolling around on the ground, tears streaming, hands stuffed into her mouth so as not to make more noise. I stuck my sword handle at her butt and tell her to quit laughing. This, ofcourse, makes her laugh harder. I had a few others ask if I was ok, which I was, but for the most part, everyone backstage was in giggles. It was pretty funny.

That might make for a good story, but wait! There’s more!! So, we did take the show “on tour”, a few towns up, about 3 hours from home. How fun!!  Now, here’s the twist. Topsy had a wedding to go to. So, I had to do her part as there was no understudy for such a tiny part and I had to do my part too. That meant one of those lightning fast costume changes backstage. Her costume consisted of a long scarf that wrapped around her upper body. She had plenty of time to wrap and pin it so that she could move and not be exposed. I had to do my part, then her part, then my part again. My costume was a zip up the back jacket type thing. And the mask. So, night of the show, I go do my part, run backstage, I am stripped and I have her costume underneath. I had people switching my pants and mask and shoes. I make my entrance as Topsy to do her dance and I see one of the chorus girls giving me The Eye. The Eye is when someone is trying to tell you something is amiss with your appearance, such as a buggar hanging out of your nose, or spinach in your teeth, or your right boob is fully exposed, you know, The Eye. I notice her giving me The Eye, but I am concentrating on this dance that I barely know. Doing my oh- so- important- job of furthering the story, the reason for me doing this dance. She is still giving me The Eye and I begin to feel a slight breese…I look at the other girls on stage and they too are giving me The Eye. I look down but I can’t see anything because of the mask. I finish my dance and run off stage for my last lightning fast change and one of the dressers has tears streaming down her face, laughing (I am nothing if not a great source of  unintentional entertainment for others) and before she slips me into my jacket she repositions the scarf that was not positioned correctly, re-covering my exposed right boob (or lack of boob as the case may have been. I was a 19 year old dancer… built like a 12 year old boy). Yes, that’s right, I single handedly made The King and I into soft core, live action porn. I think my only response was “Are you kidding me???” Then, as she was zipping me into my Simon of Legree costume, the zipper broke which left my entire back exposed. So, the audience was going to see Topsy’s costume hanging out of the back of my Simon costume. That meant that there was no way to disguise that it was me fully exposed out there. The audience was going to connect that Topsy was Simon was the choreographer was me. On the upside, maybe I would finally get my big break into movies!!

So Janet had to pay fines and make apologies and excuses. Me? I was congratulated on yet another entertaining run of a show. Topsy went on to eventually star as Anna in The King and I. I have gone on to tell this story to countless legions of dance students to illustrate my point of remaining calm when a costume malfunction happens. Words of wisdom: never allow amateur body builders to lift you, no matter how cute they are and if sitting in the front row, and I am dancing, bring a camera and a shield.

P.S. My best friend had to cover for me during this run as I had some prior engagement to attend. She had to do both her part and my part. She didn’t expose any body parts or land on her ass…but to see her do her interpretation of my dance was so funny that to this day, 18 years later, I ask her to do it at cocktail parties and random social events…sword and all. Western people funny 🙂

Fer cause then you might marry a goat!!!

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where is the controversy?

I went to my senior ball with my best friend. She is a girl. I am a girl. We are girls. No one said a thing about us going to our senior ball together. Not the teachers, not the students, not our mothers. No one. Maybe because we both wore dresses? I don’t think anyone thought we were gay, and I don’t think it would have occurred to us to be offended if they had. We both had many gay friends so being included in that clique was pretty normal for us anyway. We went together because 1: we were best friends, 2: I was living in Texas at the time just home visiting, and 3: her live in boyfriend had just moved to South Carolina. Really, if you don’t have a partner, who better to do something special with than your best friend? 

We both wore black cocktail dresses and we had our pictures taken by the professional photographer. I think we probably even danced together. No one shut down the ball or kicked us out or condemned us to hell for having fun. That was 1991. Now, in the year 2010, a girl was not allowed to bring her girlfriend to her senior ball. I don’t get it. I mean, I do. I hear bigoted, ignorant, people who try really hard to force others to conform to their rigid ideas of humanness. I know they exist and I know they hold positions of power in society. What I do not understand is what exactly were they trying to accomplish by canceling the entire senior ball and blaming it on this girl who wanted to go with her girlfriend? Maybe they thought all the kids would hate her and attack her like some scene out of Carrie? How sick are these freaks who “run” the school, state, country? 

I watched a few interviews with the girl who was at the center of the controversy. It really didn’t seem like she was asking for anything. She just wanted to go to her senior ball with someone she liked. And, of course, the students would blame her for the cancellation of her prom…cause they are kids, without fully developed frontal lobes, so, they are not fully rational humans yet. Unlike the school officials, who decided it would be a good idea to ruin every kid’s prom experience because one kid wanted to bring a girl as a date and wear pants. Cause those school officials have fully developed frontal lobes and well, ok, maybe they don’t. 

It isn’t suprising but it is sad. I don’t ever remember caring if someone was gay or straight as a kid. It was just a non issue for me. I mean, for my gay friends it was an issue, I don’t discount that they went through their own private hell in coming out. But when they did come out, it certainly didn’t make me love them any less or change my view of them. They are beautiful people no matter who they hold hands with. To be honest, I don’t want to think of anyone having sex….not straight people or gay people or people I know or people I don’t know. Other people’s sex lives do not interest me. Why do they interest government officials? Because God told them to be interested? Ok, but we have separation of church and state so if God is talking to the elected officials then they should pick a new profession such as priest where it is perfectly ok to think about kids having sex. 

I do not understand who these officials think they are saving or helping. I do not understand why it is ok to discriminate. Since when, in America, the country that fights wars for peoples civil liberties, is it ok to make laws against an entire population? I know we have a long history of doing this. To African-Americans, to women, to Japanese, to Irish, to kids. We have blemish marks on our record as a country that is all for human rights. But we learned from our mistakes, right? Now we know better, therefore we DO better, right? 

Not yet. Apparently we are still screwing up. I can only imagine how ashamed we will feel in the future(not that many of us don’t already feel ashamed) when we look back and have to teach the early 21st century history which will include bans against same-sex marriage or gay adoptions. We will feel the shame. The same shame that we feel today when we teach about slavery and discrimination against women or against black people and white people marrying or child labor. It was wrong, we learned our lesson, we will not do it again. 

Except for the gays…they can’t get married. Cause that would be wrong? Gross? The beginning of the end of our society? Because gay people are LESS than straight people. That must be it. They don’t count. Gay marriage will hurt US!! In fact, they really don’t deserve any rights what so ever!! Not to vote or attend school or ride the bus. Oh now come on! That is taking it too far!! Just not to get married and we should make it really hard for them to adopt. After all, if the gays adopt all the kids, they could start a gay army and then take over all of us straight people and make us gay!! 

Gay isn’t contagious. You can’t catch it or “make” someone gay. I don’t get the discrimination at all. I can kind of understand the warped mentality of discrimination against women….we look different from men. Or blacks….they are a different color. Or kids….they are smaller than grown ups. But gay people? Gay people look exactly like all of the other minorities” we” have already decided to accept. How can we justify withholding basic human rights from a human being

But we do. And some of us yell and scream about it and some of us quietly protest. There are some of us who will love and accept our gay friends but when it comes down to it they will deny them, just like Peter denied Jesus when confronted. Why? How can anyone possibly believe that it is ok to discriminate. We are in the 21st century in a country that was founded on the idea that we should be free. I won’t argue with you, try to change your mind. But I know, from personal experience, that gay people live and love just exactly like you do and they make great parents and they have healthy, long-lasting relationships. I wish the powers that be could have had my upbringing because if they had they would have no fear and they would do what is right and good. 

But they didn’t. Although there has to come a day when we get over the tainted messages we were given as children and become adults who can incorporate the ideas and philosophies other than the outdated ones that parents, church or bigoted peers taught us. Just cause my great great grandma said it doesn’t mean I have to live my life by it. 

Today, my best friend and I are looking forward to our 20th high school reunion. She is married with 3 kids, I am divorced with 3 kids and we will go together. I said that everyone will think we really were a couple back then, and that we still are. And they will think that her husband is just our baby maker. We laughed at that idea. Who cares? I mean really, if you have time to worry about who your next door neighbor is doing then you have far too much time on your hands. Get some Pride.

Lucy and Ethel Got Nuthin On Us

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Thank God this was before the Spray Tan Fiasco...

A few years ago, spray tans were the new “in” thing. So, being all sorts of hip and cool that my best friend and I are known to be (she even has a pair of Crocks) we drive our white asses straight to the spray tan salon. And we are a couple of White Chicks with a capital W. Although, my best friend does have some italian blood in her, it doesn’t really show. Maybe in her freckles. And me, I am translucent. You can practically see my organs I am so white. Perfect candidates for spray tans.

We have both tried to tan over the years. She freckles and I turn pink, like a medium, shiny pink. Like salmon. It’s not pretty. We both have red hair and although we look nothing alike, we are mistaken for sisters all the time. Pale skin, red hair…we must be related. Anyway, we get to the spray tan salon and all of the tan people inside have to shield their eyes from the white glow emanating from us. We are fake tan virgins. The likes of us are rarely seen.

After the tan people get over the shock, we tell them we are there for spray tan. The friendly counter girl shows us to the basement and sits us in front of a small tv. She pops in a dvd and tells us it will explain the entire process. Being the more studious between us, my best friend listens and pays attention to all the directions the girl on the dvd is giving us. Me? I sit there and think all sorts of silly thoughts like “really? how hard can this be…we need directions? I don’t need directions, I wonder if her boobs are real. I wonder how much she got paid to do this dvd. I wonder if this is her day job and at night she is a host on QVC….oh look, my best friend is paying attention very intently, maybe I should listen too…naw, I’ll just ask her what to do…”

And so when the dvd ends, my best friend gets up, confident that she knows the steps to take to ensure an even, realistic looking fake tan. Me? I get up and ask her “So, what are we supposed to do” at which point she gets exasperated with me. I mean, it has been since 7th grade that I have been asking her the very same question before every test. She rolls her eyes and does what she has always done and explains to me what I need to do. Thank God for my best friend. I’m never sure how exactly I enhance her life, but without her, well, I would still be failing 9th grade math.

So, we go into our separate rooms with the booth inside that looks like the teleportation machine from Star Trek. I vaguely remember hearing my best friend say something about lotioning up the dry areas like knees and elbows…ok….check. I see a shower cap, so I put that on….ok…check. Really how hard can this be? I say “beam me up Scotty” and giggle. I hear my best friend yell “Push the button!!” Oh yeah!!! It wasn’t a voice activated fake tan machine. I wasn’t going to disintegrate into a thousand million particles then reassemble magically with a fake tan….although that would be so cool….

And my best friend yells again “PUSH THE BUTTON!!” Ok…button pushed!! And I am blasted from every angle with brown mist. It was awful. And it went on forever! Like a whole 20 seconds!! I remember the girl on the dvd doing some really awkward chicken dance type movement. So, I do that. Then, I hop out of the futuristic teleportation fake tan machine and stand there and wait for this brown dye to dry. I guess I missed the part about rub the brown dye in vigorously or you will be very sorry.

A few minutes later, I am dry. I pull on my clothes and stick my head out the door. My best friend goes hustling by and says “Hurry up! You have to wash your hands or you palms will stain….you seriously didn’t listen to anything the girl on the dvd said did you?” Big sigh…eye roll. As we are washing our hands, she looks at me and say ” OH MY GAWD!!! You didn’t rub it IN???!!!” I say “No. No one told me to rub it in!! The girl on the dvd said to NOT touch myself!!” Yup, smug as Dr. Spock. “Oh MY GAWD!!! She said make sure you rub it in!! Otherwise you will spot and streak!!!” At which point we both look into the mirror and with utter horror realize that I am already starting to spot. All over my face.

Now, this wasn’t just a spur of the moment “let’s get fake tans” type of thing. She had a wedding to go to the next day and I had our annual spring performance. We did this fake tan with our very important events in mind. And now here I was with dark brown streaks and spots all over my very, very white body. The dye had pooled up at my feet, which are ofcourse the dryest part of my body so they were black. Literally black. I wish I had pictures of how I looked. Like I had some sort of horribly disfiguring skin affliction. It was bad. My best friend, on the other hand, looked like perfection. Just like the girl on the dvd. Bitch.

I go home and I showered 5 times. Then I sat with my feet in a bucket for the rest of the evening. Nothing worked. It just got darker. Which I would have known would happen if I had just payed attention to the damn dvd. Or better yet my best friend’s instructions. I was miserable. The one event that I look forward to all year and I look like I have leperacy. And I’m not talking about just some cocktail party where it is my choice of who I get to mingle with. I had to be up on stage in front of hundreds of people,in a skin flaunting costume, proving that I am a great dancer worthy of teaching their kids. With my skin falling off. After hours of scrubbing in the shower, all my white spots had turned pink. So, now I was a lovely combination of pink with brown spots. Nice for a bathroom wall paper pattern, but really stupid looking on my entire body.

In the morning, my best friend called. I was a little pissy to say the least. She tells me that she has a rash from head to toe. Red bumps everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. She is miserable with itching. She is having a total allergic reaction!! I swear, despite my disfigurement and her skin reaction we never laughed so hard! We deserve our own show. Cause this isn’t the only really stupid thing we have done together…who else besides your best friend will go fake tanning with you and have a full body allergic reaction just so you don’t feel so bad about being to stupid to follow the fake tan directions. I love you best friend!!!! Cause it’s friendship…friendship…just the perfect blendship…when all the others have been forgot….our will still be HOT…A-lottle-dottle-dottle-dig-dig-dig….

(c)sparklingbytheway