lundi 20 août 2007

"Don't tempt me, I can resist anything but temptation."

Q: What do you do when the temperatures start to approach the triple digits?

A: Why, you go to where the temperatures are already in the triple digits.

Seems a bit counter-intuitive, yes. But a friend's parents were out of town, so a gaggle of us went out to their house near Palm Springs to spend some time in the blazing sun. After all, there were tans to be worked on, and no place better to do it where the temperatures don't get much below 80 degrees at night and there's a lovely pool to be laying next to.

And you know it's going to be good times when within the first half hour, the following was said:
"It's not actually the size of your ass that determines if it is porn or not."

"What are signs of sex?"
"You mean, like physical signs?"
"You feel it in the poonanny."
So, yes. Anyways.

A typical day consisted of rolling out of bed, perhaps a wee bit hungover, then going straight to the pool and contemplating how we could heckle the golfers (The house was located near the 8th hole of a golf course). We made ourselves "spa lunches" - for instance, like the ridiculously healthy mayo-less chicken salad over grilled zucchini. But "spa lunch" needs to be in quotes, because they were usually served up with "spa water", which looked like club soda with lemon and cucumbers, but with the addition of a healthy serving of vodka. This was, of course, followed by returning poolside with a bottle or two of wine for the rest of the afternoon.

We're just working on our own Valley of the Dolls type scene. But with alcohol instead of pills.

And no computers were turned on during the entire duration of the stay. It was bliss.

One favourite night was when we headed over to a friend's parents' house for afternoon cocktails... only to end up staying there the rest of the night, as they grilled steaks and other delectable treats while we all worked our way through another case of wine.

Or perhaps it was the night we ran out to Wal-mart to get fake eyelashes, so that we could drink champagne and stage a pillow fight photoshoot whilst all made up (you know, to make the guys in our lives happy).

There would be perhaps more incriminating pictures, but I'm saving those for blackmail purposes. Or, also, saving myself from potential future blackmail.