Ok, girls. Get ready to freak out. (You're supposed to click on the "freak out". Just making sure you don't miss it, because I do realize that this is very high-tech blogger of me.)
That's right. The real "Kellerman's" offers Dirty Dancing Weekends. Get your girls together, and me and mine will meet you there. A good question arose, however, when sharing this with my sister in law. What boys do we dance with? I mean, this is the ultimate girl's trip. But if a bunch of girls go together, who do we dance to the Pechanga with? Kinda weird to do this with another chick. Which brings me to my next point: I would be very ok if my husband never wanted to do something like this with me. I'm just saying, if my husband wanted to take me to a weekend at the Dirty Dancing resort, I may or may not think he was fruity. Or that he loves me a whole heck of a lot...and then, that he's fruity.
I'm watching Dateline right now about Las Vegas sting operations to catch car thieves. They basically leave a computer-controlled car chilling, and then totally bust anyone that takes it. It blew my mind how many people actually went for it. I feel like a car would be the last thing I stole. Perhaps things that fit into my purse, the inside of my jacket, or a pocket. Some lipstick, jolly ranchers, or a lint roller, maybe. But a car? How the crap do you get away with that? I hope a lot of them don't. Idiots.
So, I bought a hat this weekend. I don't know why this is such big news, but I feel like it is. I'm not sure where to wear hats. My friend, Carla, and I said it was ok to wear this hat shopping during the day. So that, I shall. It's my shopping hat. Any other thoughts on hat occasions? I like this hat because I am able to tuck my ears into it. I don't know if any of you have noticed, but my ears and I have a huge conflict of interest. I don't, in fact, enjoy it when they stick out through my hair. This hat keeps them in check.
Lastly, I have a dead Christmas tree on my balcony. Don't judge me.