I realize that if you are not in my band, you do not understand that. But that is A-OK, because I will explain the HEY LADIES** story. If not today, maybe another day. We'll see how much I want to explain.
So I went on a band/chorus trip with my school. It was awesome. Actually, awesome doesn't cut it. I spent four days with the people who make me laugh the most, while on five hours of sleep on every day. Me with not enough sleep means freaky shit happens.
Here are examples:
1. I spoke in an English accent for five hours while in Epcot, waiting for someone to call me out. It finally happened in Morocco. I laughed.
2. I danced with a belly dancer in Morocco as well. I sucked ass. What do you expect? I'm not only white, I'm Irish and have no rhythm whatsoever.
3. Me and my friends sang while walking around the parks. Loudly. I am in the band for obvious reasons.
4. I stalked princesses.
5. My friends and I talked to more people who worked there than I think anyone has ever done. I like to think I made their day. Probably not.
6. I nearly missed getting picked up. Here is a text my band director sent me.
Yes, that is me in the background. Yes, I'm not wearing makeup. Yes, I slept for thirteen hours today. Yes, my band director's name in my phone is Reel in the Sea Bass***.7. My friends and I played Kill Fuck Marry around Epcot and I can never look the same way at a guy in my grade ever again thanks to my friend Alli. I also kind of want to know what a 6' 4" penis looks like now. DON'T ASK!
8. Here is a picture of me and my friends on the Dinosaur ride in Animal Kingdom. Ain't gonna lie, we look like we are about to die. Except for my friend Faith. She's laughing. Jill is the one who looks like she just saw the end of time itself (DR WHO REFERENCE HAHA! FOUR DAYS!). Holly is the one who looks like she is about to be eaten alive my giant squids of anger. I'm the one with short hair who looks terrible in this photo. I always do. But my shirt is pretty damn awesome.
10. On the plane down there, I nearly broke the person sitting next to me's hand while I said the Sh'ma* about five hundred times. I just about OD'ed on prayer, yo. It was bad. But I survived, and I'm TAN!
9. The waffles at the place where we stayed were AMAZING!!! Also, they had these apples with caramel dipping sauce that were possibly the most delicious thing on the face of the earth. Besides the chocolate pudding. Alli (otherwise known as friend who made me want to know what a 6'4" penis looks like) said that it was like God's jizz. Alli is possibly my most vulgar friend. I love her to bits.
To allow the title to be relevant to this post, I shall embark on a small tale of how me being tan is truly statistically impossible. It's short, I promise, so stick with me, yeah?
It all goes back to my roots. I have always wanted to say that. Anywhoozle, it really does go back to my roots. On my dad's side, I'm Russian and Romanian. On my mom's, I'm Irish, and everything but Scottish, German, and Italian. I'm Native American, but not Italian. I mean, like what?
What does this all mean?Well, in addition to having genes that make me more predispositioned to be an alcoholic than anything, I also don't tan for shit. Really. My mum freckles. Like really freckles. She is one big freckle. Not joking. She'd kill me if I put up a picture of her, but truly. She freckles like a champ. My dad burns, also like a champ.
What does this mean for me? I have the skin color of a sheet of paper/cadaver and I burn, then freckle and go back to being pale. Hoo-fricking-ray, yeah? But last week I got more sun than I've gotten in probably seven months, so not only am I on a Vitamin D high I'm also a love shade of burnt coconut. Here's an idea of what color I am right now.
This is what came up when I typed burnt coconut into google. No I am not this color, but yes, I am disturbed as to why people think that this woman is burnt coconut. Because burnt coconut is not that color. She's tanner than I am. Sad face.
Anyway I think I wasted enough of your life, so if you read this whole post, I owe you a cookie. If you did read all the way to the bottom, say so in the comments, and email me to say that you need a cookie. I might send you one ;)
*The Sh'ma is the holiest prayer in the Jewish religion. You say it when you get up and before you go to bed. You are supposed to say it before you die, so you can see why I was praying like a maniac, yeah?
**I realize that the asterisks are out of order. No hating, k? The HEY LADIES story will be told at another time
***Reel in the Sea Bass is also another story for another day. I like to keep some mystic around my life.