Just booked a trip to Can-freaking-cun. It's no Greece, but it'll do. So psyched to do nothing but lay like broccoli for 4 days with a fruity frozen beverage in one hand and an Us Weekly in the other. Swim-up bar? Check. All-inclusive resort? Check. Getting kidnapped and not having to come back to my job? Not gonna check it, but really wouldn't mind.
Reminds me of the last time I was at the beach, in Destin two years ago. My bottom lip got so sunburned (shocking, I know) that it blew up like a trout pout. It was the closest I will probably get to having restalyne injections, and I have to say, it looked GOOD. I couldn't stop checking myself out in the mirror and putting lip gloss on it. And then it burst. Bye-bye, pretend plastic surgery.
Look out, 'Coon. (Does anyone actually call it that? Maybe offensive?) I'm comin' for ya.
No comments:
Post a Comment