Friday, April 03, 2009

Ill-Advised Decision-Making

As I mentioned in yesterday’s blog I had all day Thursday to myself while everyone else was working.

I made the most of it. I hit up Taco John’s and Jimmy John’s and Mazatlan and had breakfast pizza…thus knocking four things off my list of “stuff to eat in Mankato” in one fell swoop. I also managed to have a few beers at Mankato’s finest bar, Blue Bricks.

I dropped some money on some compression shorts at WalMart (I know, I know…don’t be hater) that would have cost me at least double in Boston. I decided to take a gamble that a massage would help remedy whatever seemingly irreparable damage I’ve done to my back in the past few weeks. So I wandered into the local massage school and got a cheapo massage that was quite pleasant, but didn’t do much to help with the achin’ sacroiliac.

Then, when I was going to purchase some beer for that evening…I wandered past a tanning salon.

Here’s the thing, I’m pretty white. In fact, I’m so white that albinos often approach me on the street and thank me for supporting “the cause.” I usually then wander home and cry.

Anyway, I wander in--still not quite sure why--and I asked for the basic tan. I figure that I’ve got a wedding coming up in a month and a half and a lil’ color couldn’t hurt. Let’s be honest folks, I’d had a few beers and for whatever reason tanning seemed wise.

Well, here’s the thing, I don’t tan. I burn. I can get a solid farmer’s tan and little else. Yet, that logic never clicked when I wandered in and handed over my cash. So there I sat, in a tiny UV-laden tube thinking that it felt warm and nice.

Then a few hours later, I started to feel a little warm. Perhaps a little too warm.

When we got back to Mike’s place after eating supper and kicking back some monster margaritas I finally took a peek and found out that I was bright red. Just about everywhere.

So apparently instead of the nice golden shine I was expecting when I wandered into the tanning salon with a buzz…I’m as red as Hellboy and I can’t help but think this will go the way most of my burns do. I’ll be bright red and in pain for like three or four days and then I’m promptly return to pale white and it’ll be like it never happened.

So in the end, I paid someone $10 so that I could be in pain for a few days.

I gotta be honest, I probably could have just given one of The Boys $5 and they could have punched me in the nuts and it would have had the same overall effect and saved me some cash.

Needless to say, my entire day of awesomeness in Mankato was somewhat dampened by my ill-advised decision-making.