Red is soo my color
or “How I got what I deserved”
We’re suffering through yet another suck ass winter storm. Yes, yes I know I live in an area prone to winter weather, nasty winter weather. But enough already! Fucksake, I don’t remember what the sun looks like!
So I got the idea that a quick trip to the tanning salon was well deserved and absolutely in order. And don’t start with me, I know that shits bad for you, but so isn’t the glare from my pastey white body.
So after 5 minutes of the overly fake-n-baked sales chickie trying to sell me a year’s worth of UV wrinkle-inducing sessions, she asked how long I wanted to age-accelerator set for.
“How long did I have it on for last time?” I asked. After all, it was a year ago. I figured whatever it was, we’d double it.
“7 minutes”
“What’s the maximum?” I inquired. What the hell, the kids aren’t due home for hours. Being locked in a booth, uninterrupted, no screaming, no crying, no requests for more juice, no spills, no bitching, no asses to wipe… Do they charge by the hour?
“8 minutes.”
What? Was she still pissed because I asked her if she moisturized with saddle soap?
“OK, Let’s do that.” Fuck, 8 lousy minutes. It hardly seemed worth the effort of fumbling in the booth trying to scramble out of my clothes and slap on the fake-n-bake accelerator cream within the 30 seconds the front desk gives you before they automatically turn the laser beams on to ‘nuke’.
“I don’t recommend that, we just put new bulbs in that booth”
Fuck that! Fire it up biatch!
That’ll teach me. Fuck. Where’s that saddle soap?
