Vacation ruled! It wasn't the same without my sister, Jennie, there, but since she was unable to attend because she finally got accepted into med school, it was hardly a regrettable absence.
That didn't make much sense, but if you think really hard, you'll get the gist of it.
So, anyway, we hit all the main attractions, i.e., restaurants, I wanted to while we were at the shore. I got some reading done: the first Sandman trade, Transmetropolitan, and Death the High Cost of Living. I also got a pound and a half of peanut butter fudge. Mmm!
While on vacation, however, (and here comes the short rant) I was reminded of something irksome that first occurred to me before my lovely Kennywood birthday surprise a few weeks ago. You see, though I was at the shore for an entire week, I managed to maintain my pallid complexion. Hold your applause. I can't take all the credit; chalk it up to spf 45.
So, am I ticked off at my Irish heritage? Not at all. It's nice; I like it. Besides, it made me the drinker I am today.
Am I frustrated by my proclivity toward freckles and complete inability to tan? Nah. I don't like heat, anyway, so it's no great loss. My tattoos look better on a stark white background, too.
How 'bout the inconvenience of slathering up with that good ol' spf 45? Is that what irked me? Nope. I used the good stuff: non-greasy, noncomedogenic, lasts for some ridiculous number of hours. It's Coppertone.
And there you have it! Coppertone. ... Coppertone? Shouldn't they be required to come up with an alternate label/brand name for this product? Coppertone is a swell name for the Crisco tanners baste themselves with to ensure even cooking. It's even okay for any single-digit spf sunscreen used for ... used for ... well, I don't know what the hell it's used for! Absolving one's self of guilt in the case of any future melanoma, perhaps?
**PLEASE note here that I would NOT and do NOT wish ANY form of cancer on ANYONE for ANY reason, sunbathers, smokers, saints, and serial killers alike.**
My point is that an spf 45 sunblock -- the equivalent of three hats, a muumuu, and a giant, multi-colored umbrella in a bottle -- is the farthest thing from Coppertone I can imagine. Call it Fishbellytone! Call it I Can't Believe It's Not Albino! Market it under any SUITABLE name you like, but don't slap a big ol' Coppertone label on the bottle.