It's About Time!!

Laura and I have been best of friends for years - interrupted by a space of time when we lost touch, but we picked up right where we left off.

The best thing about US is that we can be ridiculous together, and we each push the envelope just a little bit futher...and further...to see which one will give. It's usually a toss up.

So, because we have nothing better to do (yes, t'was a joke), it was my brilliant idea for us to blog together. We think we're funny, and if nothing better comes out of it than us laughing, then our work here is done.

If anyone else chooses to read our banter, great! If not, well, we wouldn't know the difference.

So in order to consolidate my life a little bit, I've taken posts from my personal blog and added them in as some "starter posts" but I'm convinced that our best work is still to come.

So check back & keep laughing.

Your Comrades,

Amber & Laura

Pathetic Pastimes

Okay, I might lose friends over this one...

Pathetic Pastime #1

We were about 12, my friend Megan and I were bored and it was really hot! Inspired by her previous year's homemade Halloween costume, we stripped down to our underwear, cut head-holes in Hefty bags, and became California Raisins...with the help of some duct tape.

Then we cleared the piles of horse poop from the front lawn and stretched out the big blue industrial tarp, turned on the spiggot, and voila!

The birth of poor-kid Slip-n-Slide!

Pathetic Pastime #2

Speaking of Hefty bags...had I asked my parents for a kite I'm sure they would have obliged. But I was a crafty kid. I tied some bailing twine to a Hefty bag (secured with duct tape) and let it fly! While it really picks up with a good gust, it quickly spirals to the ground within moments. Sadly, it still kept me entertained well into the evening.

Pathetic Pastime #3

We had a great big 6x6x6 wooden box out back, with no bottom, just dirt. That is where we threw our aluminum cans for recycling. When the box got full, Amee and I would grab our tools and head out for can crushin' time!

We found many ways to crush cans. The easiest way is to lay it on its side and step on it, then fold each side in and stomp it again. If you were lucky the can would wrap around your shoe and make fancy footwear for awhile.

If you were really strong you could stand them on end and crush them into neat little discs. Very fancy! I would sometimes sneak little rocks into the cans so they'd weigh more at the recycling plant. Don't do that though, its dishonest. If our Dad knew that I did that he would've been so mad! But hey, anything for a buck!

Okay, back to crushing...Amee always took it a step further. From her tool arsenal she pulled two 2x6 boards. She would put one board down, line it up with cans, lay the next board on top, and using one of her fancy cheerleading jumps she would jump on the board and crush them all. Into neat little discs. I always envied that talent, I would practice when she wasn't watching.

But now the fun part! All the cans are crushed, neatly put into garbage cans and, what else, Hefty bags! All the bags and cans were settled neatly into the bed of the truck.

The bottom of the dirt-bottomed can box was peppered with slugs...and so out came the salt.

Now those were good times!!

She Sells Sea Shells

My friend Megan moved after the third grade, so she only came to visit during the summer. Well, one summer after my family had taken a trip to the ocean, and come home with a surplus of seashells, Megan and I had an idea.

We lived on the intersection of a very busy highway and a not-so-busy side road, with our home facing the side road...which is where the fun takes place.

Being entrepreneurs, we decided to make our own little store front and perch it next to the mailbox. It consisted of a giant cardboard box with a handwritten sign (in pencil, mind you) on the front: "Seashells for Sale". As the cars rolled by we would dance around and yell, trying desperately to lure customers to what was to be a potentially unbelievable sale. Of seashells. We were going to be rich!

After several hours of marketing ploys, the only thing we managed to do was get tired and dirty, and not get hit by a car. Not a single shell sold. We went home (34 feet) discouraged, but not defeated.

There was always next summer.

A Case of Mistaken Identity

Behind the trailer by the "can box", there was a menagerie of odds & ends. Early one summer, after a rain--I was about nine--I found the most amazing discovery! In an overturned trash-can lid full of water, there were hundreds of tadpoles (or so I thought).

I put some in a Mason jar and brought them into my room, to raise on my very own. I was so excited at the prospect of mothering these frogs. (Again, I was going to be rich by selling them to the pet store.)

Within a few days my "tadpoles" developed into adults. Adult mosquitos that is...everywhere!

Needless to say my mother was quite disenchanted with me.

Politically Correct?

My daughter (at 5) was singing a song and one of the lines she was singing was "we're on the planet of the sun." I thought that was an odd thing to sing and I asked her where she heard it.

Her response: "A black human."

"A black human?" I questioned. It's the word "human" that's caught my attention.

She said in her explanatory voice, "Yeah, you know, they're really brown but people call them black. Like Kiaya [her cousin] and Uncle Mark."

She cracks me up. What little kid calls people humans??

Apparently she saw a woman singing the song with Elmo on Sesame Street...that was the black human. Oh, and if you're curious the song is called "We Are All Earthlings".

Yo, Adrienne!!

Okay, this one is my husband's #2 favorite of my stories. I don't think its really THAT funny, but I'll share it anyway.

I was about, oh, thirteen, and I decided one day I was going to get in shape. It was raining that day, but I was going to go for a jog. So I put on my sweat suit, including tight hoody like Rocky Balboa, and went outside.

Now, I have always been an introvert and somewhat terrified of people and I thought that venturing outside of our 1-acre chain linked plot and jogging on the road (like normal people) was way too dangerous. So I did the next best thing.

I did laps around the trailer house.

There is really nothing more to say. It is sad and pathetic, and I'm sure drivers by felt very sorry for the poor mentally stifled girl running circles around the trailer.

The Spice Girls

My mind is flooded with memories, all of which I've shared with my husband. Today I asked him what he thought my best white trash moments were. He came up with two, here is number one...

My sister Amee is about four years older than I. When we would get home from school we were bored. We did what most kids would do...we headed straight for the kitchen cabinet and played a spirited, and appropriately coined, game of "Name that Spice."

"Okay, close your eyes and stick out your tongue!"

Ahh, those words still ring sweet in my memories. And the taste of basil, thyme or oregano sprinkled on your tongue. Eager anticipation while the other person tries to guess.

Don't underestimate the hours of enjoyment that Name that Spice can bring. Try it at your next family get-together! Remember, cayenne pepper is off limits, but alum or cream of tartar can bring just as much fun and laughter when added to the mix.

I know what you're thinking, but you're too late. We've already signed with Milton-Bradley!

The Big Blue Beast

In high school I often drove my mom's huge Monte Carlo. It was a great car, smooth ride, cushy interior. Really very nice. But HUGE! It was by no means a "cool" car in the early '90s. Keep in mind, that's when Yugo was popular. Compact cars were IN...barge-sized cars were OUT. As was I.

Well, one day I pulled into the school parking lot, full of students, and as I go to park what I called "The Big Blue Beast", a kid jumps into the parking space and starts directing me in like I'm an airplane coming in for a landing. He was doing all the arm motions and NOT being quiet about it. All the kids were laughing. Nice.

Yeah, well, keep on laughing you Yugo drivers! I dare you to play chicken with The Big Blue Beast and see if you still think its funny!

Yes, kids are cruel, and I was apparently a very easy target!

Burn Barrel Epiphany

Let our memories mimic the sun at high noon,
For that is when the shadows disappear.

My mind is usually plagued with my childhood stories to tell you, but for some reason I'm running low. And I think I know why. It's because what seemed like a "white trash" thing to do to other people, seemed and STILL seems perfectly normal to me.

For example, I was brainstorming in the car for new material. :) I asked Luke if he could think of any good stuff. He was hesitant, but he said something about having a "burn barrel." What? I think that's perfectly acceptable! As a matter of fact, we're building a new house and I was truly expecting to have a burn barrel in the back yard. I told him that and he laughed at me--he said it was fine for a farm, but not for suburbia. Who knew?! Then I read my sister's comments on "You MAY have been white trash if..." and SHE even mentioned a burn barrel.

So, wait a minute! Am I more white-trashy than I think I am?

I suppose it depends on who's doing the judging, because I wouldn't change a thing. In retrospect I realize that everything we did or didn't do, and everything we had or didn't have molded me into who I am. And I like me. And almost as important as liking me, I get to tell awesomely funny stories about growing up!

You didn't have to grow up in a trailer to understand what I'm saying. You just have to love yourself right now. Pay your respects to the hard times, because they made you strong, and lay them to rest. Then you celebrate and cultivate the good memories, because those are the thoughts that you want to carry you through life.

So due to my recent "burn barrel epiphany," I now get to reexamine my past and laugh at even more memories.

And I'm really looking forward to that!

Humiliating.

Okay, I was always picking on my friends. They must have kind of liked it because they're still my friends! But they got their revenge.

There was this boy that I had a crush on, though I didn't really know him. You know how it is, if he's cute you love him? Anyway, in light of my social anxiety disorder, I had my friend call him because I was a big chicken--and it was one of those things that we were pretending that I was oblivious to her phone call to him. He asked if he could see a picture--you know, to make sure I wasn't a freak of nature.

So I told Michelle & Nicki to leave me at my Grandma's house and they could go drop off the picture at his house, but they convinced me to go with them and they would just park on the side of the house. Well, we pulled up and I was still nervous about being seen (because that would have looked desperate), so they told me just to lay down in the backseat and they'd cover me up with clothes (my backseat was full of them.)

So I layed on the floor of the car, all covered up, and they took off to his front door to give him a picture. Then I hear them giggling, coming back to the car.

The door flings open. I am laying under a pile of clothes on my car floor in a sort of fetal position, and HE is standing there staring at me like I'm the biggest idiot in the entire world.

And I certainly was.

Give a Penny, Take a Penny

On my first day of high school--already very intimidating--I was in line at the front office to "check in". Well, I was wearing a coat and I ALWAYS had pockets full of change. Don't ask me why, I just did.

So as I'm waiting in line with my friend, Michelle, change keeps falling out of my pocket, and I keep picking it up and putting it back. It's getting really frustrating, I'm starting to wonder where the hole is in my pocket!

Well, Michelle is looking at my like I'm crazy...and its then that I realize that NOTHING is falling from my pockets. There was a group of Seniors on the balcony dropping pennies on the Freshmen...and I'm frantically picking them up!! When I realized what was going on, I looked up and they started yelling, "Scrounge!"

Now, isn't that awful??

The Mad Hatter

Michelle and I had this neighbor and he was always high - always! I can't remember ever seeing him with his eyes fully open. But, aside from his "partaking", he was a really nice guy (aren't they all?). And he didn't have a car, so we drove him now and then. It was better that he didn't drive, believe me.

Michelle can fill in the blanks, but one night Aaron had hit the Jaegermeisters. He was running through the parking lot like a wild person and he had this 16 year old kid with him who thought he was going to "tame" his drunk friend. That part was comical. Well, somehow he gets us to drive him to Sherry's restaurant - open 24 hours. We're hungry and could use a laugh so we take the bait.

Oh, let me mention first that Aaron is wearing a big cat-in-the-hat style top hat. Why? No idea. So, we're seated at Sherry's. Michelle, me, Aaron, 16 yr old kid and some other guy. We're in a booth by the kitchen. Aaron is giving the waitress a hard time, but she's still got a smile on her face so we're in the clear.

As soon as the waitress leaves he gets on the floor, legs crossed, and starts singing. 16-yr old kid is trying to calmly talk him down, which only makes things worse. Aaron then jumps up, runs into the kitchen, and swipes a bunch of bananas and a can of spray whipped cream.

Michelle and I are straight-laced, and I don't know about her but I'm in a panic thinking we're going to go to jail or something. Aaron is shoving bananas in his mouth and squirting the whipped cream between bites (all the while with the top hat on).

I have no idea how he eluded the vision of everyone else in the restaurant, but I was glad to get out of there. It gave us a good laugh, and reminded me why I didn't drink.

Monkey See, Monkey...ATTACK!!

I think everything traumatic happened to me when I was about nine years old. Why is that? Well, for THIS particular story it's likely because my sister AMEE was just entering her hellatious (word?) teen years....and she hated me.

We were at John's Pet Shop here in Spokane (now Trade-a-Game) and they had a caged monkey in the back. I think it was a chimpanzee, probably the size of a 2-year old kid. It had toys. It HAD toys. But my loving sister, Amee, TOOK the chimp's toy from him. Okay...no big deal. Yeah, right, tell that to the monkey!

The monkey freaked out...I mean really! He couldn't get to his toy (as Amee is laughing) and so he reached out with his long, gangly arms and grabbed me by the hair. Of course there are bars separating us, and he's trying to jerk me into the cage, but the bars are stopping me...slam after slam. Klunk. Klunk. Klunk. Nope, my little screaming head will not fit through the bars. The whole time my Mom is trying to pry the monkey's fingers off of my hair...EVENTUALLY with some success. The pet store owner, of course, is in a frenzy...probably thinking "lawsuit, lawsuit." Finally, Mom yells at Amee to give the monkey his toy back. And all is well.

My scalp was so sore that day. So, so sore.

He Married Me Anyway

Pretty Funny

On our first date, my husband took me to Saltys--a seafood place overlooking Spokane Falls. It was semi-fancy, and I was trying to make a good impression.

Before the meal we were served sourdough bread with oil & vinegar on the side for dipping.
Well, while we were eating, I dropped my napkin on the floor. I leaned over to pick it up, and as I leaned my long hair pooled into the vinegar & oil dish. I realized what had happened a little too late as it was dripping down my absorbent WOOL shirt! And of course the napkins they give you in those places are polyester, and wouldn't soak up any of it.

We both had a good laugh, and I spent the rest of the evening with a dark oil stain down the front of my shirt, and stinking like vinegar.

Runner Up

Luke and I were at my parents house when we were dating, and we were in the kitchen making something to eat. There was a box of plastic wrap on the counter, and somehow I turned around and raked my elbow across the serrated edge. It REALLY hurt, but I didn't want to look like a big baby. He kept saying "Are you okay?" but I was playing it cool saying "Oh, it's fine, it doesn't even hurt."

Little did I know, I was bleeding quite profusely, and my act didn't fool him, which made it even more embarrassing. He started laughing at me of course, because who do you know who has managed to sever their elbow on a Saran Wrap box?

I still have a scar.

Mango's Passionate Adventure

My husband's and my first child was a little blue Chihuahua named Mango. Mango's favorite pastime was to play with Humpy Bear, who earned her name from many a love session from the dog, who I nicknamed Sir Humpsalot.

For anyone who's first child is a pet, you understand how important they become. If he was sick I would stay home from work. He went everywhere with us, I even had a special purse made with a hole in it so he could go with me and poke his head out. We loved him like a child.

Late one evening, about 11:00, Mango was having his nightly rendevous with Madame Humpy Bear. He had a routine, he would pull her of his toy basket, shake her around a bit (she was a naughty girl!) and, shall we say, commence.

Well, this particular night I noticed the two lovebirds under the end table, but Mango was unusually out of control. I decided to intervene before he gave himself a heart attack, and as I reached for him I noticed that his "part" was extended several inches from his body and had no intention of going back to the mother ship. Apparently he had been sharing special time with humpy for so long that he'd actually dried himself out.

Well, anyone in my situation would have done what I did upon seeing such a large projectile attached to such a tiny dog. I screamed!

Of course my scream startled the dog so badly that he started to run. I immediately worried that he might poll vault across the room as he wasn't used to sporting such equipment. He made his way under the couch, terrified. I called for my husband as I was coaxing poor Mango from his hiding place.

My husband, at my direction, called the vet and woke him up. I heard him telling the vet our plight in the most discreet and polite manner possible..."Our dog was playing with his teddy bear and he got his boy part stuck out."

While he received medical advice, I thought of the best solution possible. I remembered that Seinfeld episode..the one where they talked about shrinkage...so I took the dog into the bathroom, turned on the cold water, and proceeded to manually apply cold water to the unit.
Eventually it returned to its proper place. I informed my husband of the good news, he passed it on to the vet and hung up the phone.

"What did he say?" I asked.

"He said to take the bear away!" he answered.

Needless to say, after Madame Humpy Bear's hiatus, Mango became more of gentleman.

Strip Tease

When I was about 14 and was starting to get "bosoms", well, my hand-me-down bras didn't really fit all that well. Half the time they rode up around my neck because there was nothing holding them down!

Anyway, I came home from school one day. My Mom was on the couch, and she did this really neat little trick (we all do it) of pulling the bra out the sleeve. So I decided that not only would I copy the fancy trick, but I would give my mom a show as well. So I pulled the bra out and started whirling it above my head in attempts to make Mom laugh. Well, my trick apparently worked because she started laughing hysterically...not at my pretty dance, but rather the shower of cotton balls I sent whirling around the room.

Yep, I had forgotten that I had "stuffed", and, in horror, told her that I had JUST put them there to "see what it looked like."

Sad, sad girl.

Sweet, Sweet Prevenge

It was a hot summer day. I was sitting in the dining room. My sister, Amee, was at the typewriter (this was before computers came along) and she was wearing an open-backed swimsuit and shorts. That was her normal attire for summer.

Well, she was typing along, minding her own business. I, however, was looking at her smooth, mocha-colored, inviting back-skin. I stared at it for awhile, but the urge overtook me. I walked up and whacked her right square in the back with my open hand, as hard as I possibly could. The sound rang through the trailer.

Amee immediately arched her back in horror and gave out a shriek that could be heard around the world. She started to cry--I think she cried because she wanted to get me in trouble--but she said it burned with a fiery rage.

So realizing what I had just done I, too, started to cry (for fear of our Mother) and I ran and hid. Honestly I didn't know it would hurt her THAT bad. I was grounded for a week and Mom took my cowboy boots away (that hurt).

I don't regret it, but rather remember it with sweet satisfaction. For all the mean things she would do to me in the future, that one memory made it all worthwhile.

It was preemptive revenge...."Prevenge" if you will.

Bus Stop Blues

Okay, riding the bus in high school is not something that anyone looks forward to. Either you drove, or you had a friend pick you up. That was cool.

Well, before I had my license I, of course, rode the bus. I always hated the first couple days of school for this reason. We lived at an intersection. The school always told me to wait for the bus that came down the highway instead of the side road--wrong.

Well, two years in a row I stood on the side of the highway...the bus would come...and ZOOM...the bus would go. Leaving me there on the side of the busy highway with my school bag, looking like a complete idiot.

So I'd go tell my Mom what happened. She'd call the bus garage and yell at them, then drive me to school. When I got to school the other kids from the bus would make fun of me.

I'm surprised with all of my high school trauma that I came out reasonably sane.

Gettin' Hammered

I must be some sort of sicko because I'm posting this in the "That's Hilarious" file--but it's really very disturbing.

When I was about nine I was helping my mom put up a wall. My one task was to pound a nail into the ceiling. So, with all of my might, I swung the hammer...missed the wall...and pounded my mom right square in the forehead. She grabbed her forehead and was very obviously stunned, not to mention the likely pain that ensued.

Now, I think that I must have watched way too many episodes of Loony Toons or Tom & Jerry, because I started laughing hysterically. I couldn't even stand up. And in cartoon fashion, my mom sprouted a giant purple knot on her forehead that she sported for the next couple weeks.

We've retold this story many times, and each time (including now) I find myself laughing. And when my mom remembers it she shudders--she laughs too--but mostly she shudders.

Isn't that horrible??

A Brow Beating

In high school my friend Michelle was always trusting me, I don't know why. We (okay, probably me) decided that she needed her eyebrows plucked, and I offered to do it for her. Well, after the first couple of plucks she totally wimped out, she said it hurt too much. So I had a brilliant idea! I got out the Nair (probably in our drawer for 10 years) and carefully applied it to her extra eyebrow hairs, disregarding all warnings on the bottle to keep it away from your eyes.

As we were waiting the designated amount of time, she started complaining that her eyebrows were burning. Now, considering she was wimpy about pulling a couple hairs out, I said "Stick your head out the window you big baby!" I thought the cold winter air would help. (I know...dumb!)

So when the timer went off, we wiped off Michelle's unwanted hair, as well as some not-so-unwanted eyebrow skin. Oops!

As if high school isn't intimidating enough, poor Michelle walked around the next week with scabs under her eyebrows, courtesy of yours truly. Though I will say she did do a fairly decent camoflauge job with the blue eyeshadow.

Poor Michelle. No wonder I hardly have any friends!!

Chopsticks

Laura and I were at the mall with our kids. We were in the food court deciding where to eat. I chose Edo, it's one of my all time favorites.

So I order and as the gal is cooking my food there's a guy standing near the register leaning against the wall. He was chatting with the cashier. Now let me just describe him:

He's about 50, slicked back gray hair, black leather bomber jacket with zippers, very obviously a smoker because he had yellow teeth...some missing. He's about 6' tall and weighs about 140 lbs. Scrawny.

So that's my first impression and he hasn't said a word. Oh, and he's leaning against the wall like he's in a Calvin Klein underwear commercial.

So I'm making my way to the register, pulling out my cash to pay, and this conversation ensues...WAIT...I have to also add here that Creepy Pete had a voice that did not match his persona, he looked like a biker burn-out and sounded like a drag queen...I mean flamboyant. (STOP IT! I'm not insulting anyone, just painting the picture.....sheesh! Gimme a break!) So, onto the conversation...

HIM: (real creepy like) "You know how they make money dontcha?"

ME: (politely) "Um, with linen."

HIM: (alluringly) "...and"

ME: (irritated) "and ink"

HIM: (alluringly) "...and"

ME: (giving up) "No idea."

ANYWAY...he opens up his wallet, with his really long and creepy fingernails, and pulls out a big wad of neatly folded cash and kind of shuffles it--so I can see that there is a lot there--then he reached down and grabs his pant leg (wearing jeans) and shakes it around.

I'm thinking...what the HECK is this guy doing?? And he says "denim".Okay, of course I'm SO fascinated by this guy's knowledge of money. All I want to do is run far and fast, and eat my dang Teriyaki Chicken! But he's pulling out all the stops. He reaches in his inside coat pocket (at this point I think he's probably going to stab me) and pulls out a set of chopsticks. And they are FANCY chopsticks with seashell inlay! Then he grabs a set of wooden ones from the bin and says, somewhat offended, "I NEVER use these..." and he waves his fancy sticks around and says "They gave me these special because I eat here EVERY DAY!"

By this time I'm chewing my own leg off to be released from the freak trap, but realized I needed to have compassion--probably for him--but instead for the poor people at Edo that get to hang out everyday with the man that I will always refer to as "Chopsticks."

Geriatric Gropers

Today I was in the grocery store at the checkout line--completely tuckered out. I had Emily in the cart and I was carrying Joe in a sling. Now, Joe is 7 months old and about 21 pounds, so I think I looked the way I felt. I was exhausted!

There was an elderly lady behind me in one of those electric scooter carts, with a permanent grimace--but friendly--and she looked at Joe and said "WHAT are you FEEDING him?!?!" and before I had a chance to say anything she grabbed her boob, shook it around and gave me a devious look, as if to say "Is this your secret weapon?"

It was SO funny, she didn't even crack a smile while bouncing her boob about. Then I yes, "Yeah, that's what I feed him!" and she says, "Ahhh, Jersey cow."

It was great!

On a side note, what is it about old ladies and boobs? Just a couple weeks ago I gave my Grandma a hug and she reached up and grabbed my boob, bounced it, and kind of giggled. ??? I know its the Altzheimers, but good grief! I just laughed...cute little Grandma.

Whaaat??

Awhile back I was reading some magazine and in it, it talked about how celebrities are “going green”.

Do me a favor. Go Google this topic: “Jennifer Aniston 3 minute shower” - there are 115,000+ posts about how Jennifer Aniston is doing her part to save the planet by taking quick showers. Favorable? Sure, why not.

Firstly, I think global warming is a farce. I have proof, but that’s another topic. I respect those who are manic about being green, because really, it’s a beneficial habit regardless of what you believe. I recycle by the way.

Digression: Overall, we’re not trying to save the earth. We’re trying to save ourselves. If for some reason we all go extinct because Mama earth just couldn’t hack our sinful ways, then what happens? We go extinct…and who’s holding the ball? You got it, the big ball herself. Doesn’t matter what we do, she’ll still be here. Kind of a funny twist on “saving the earth”, right?

So back to Jennifer’s 3-minute wash-ups. So we Googled the shower topic….now let’s Google this one (I haven’t done it yet): Jennifer Aniston vacation. Here are some excerpts:

• Jennifer Aniston relaxed in a bikini while on vacation in Mexico
• Jennifer Aniston and Courteney Cox vacation in Hawaii
• Jennifer Aniston And John Mayer’s European Vacation

You get the picture. Let me also add that I have nothing against Jennifer Aniston, it was the 3 minute shower that caught my attention, not necessarily who was taking said shower. Like I care.

The last time I went on vacation it was to Seattle, WA. Not too exciting, especially since I already live in Washington state. And it was the first “getaway” we’ve had since our kids started making their way into the world over 7 years ago. Pathetic, maybe. Realistic, I’d like to think so.

So on the topic of showers, I get a little sensitive I guess. When I take a shower, I stand there until the water gets cold. I turn the heat up to scalding, close the door and just stand there.

Sometimes I even sit on the built-in bench. For me, THAT is my vacation. The water drowns out the sound of screaming children, Ultimate Fighting Championships on TV, and whatever else may be going on in the real world.

For that 20-30 minutes I don’t have to think or do a thing. I endulge is some of the magnificent offerings found at Allizon.com, sugar scrubs and bathtime yummies.

So am I destroying the planet with my too-long shower? Probably, but certainly no more than the exhaust from a private jet headed to Hawaii.