Seriously, some days it’s just better to shut your mouth. Of course, I didn’t because why would I? That wouldn’t be any fun at all. Nooooooo, Twitter is for fun and being inappropriate and saying whatever you want. Right?! Please tell me you’re agreeing right now.
Now I’ve put my foot right in it. I’m all blah blah, glitter and baby oil… all over the place…and they’re like, you have to tell it and I’m like, hmmm, well…should I?
And then …somebody always mentions ‘band camp’, all stories are ok until someone says ‘band camp’…
So now I have to decide if I’m gonna let it go or tell the story from my deep, dark past, where it should stay because, well because as Rafiki said, and who doesn’t trust a talking baboon with a shaky stick, Not me! I trust whatever he says… the past is the past…
Keep the past in the past? Apparently not!
And so to answer Lucy’s question… The best way I can…
It was long ago and it was far away…we were on the road…like ‘band camp’ but for grown ups and somehow, I’m not saying how, to protect the innocent , there was a hotel room and in that hotel room there was a bag and in that bag there was stolen glitter.
Stolen glitter you say? Who steals glitter? Again, being in the past, I must refrain, however packed in that bag with the stolen glitter was legally purchased baby oil. Baby oil, for those of you younger than the moon, was the sunscreen of choice for all good 80’s sunbakers and this theory lived on into their adulthood.
But those poor sun worshippers could no long lay out in the sun, for fear of rebuke from the suntan nazis and so like all good 80’s children, they took their baby oil to bed.
A bed, in a hotel room, on the road, like ‘band camp’…An idea was hatched and plan was set and that baby oil was used.
But the glitter you see, felt left out, lonely, so it popped out of the bag to see what was going on. And that glitter was shocked, cos the baby oil rocked and he wanted to be in that action.
Ever so slowly and timidly, the glitter joined the fun and before they all knew it, the damage was done. The glitter exploded in too much excitement and stuck to the baby oil everywhere!
Laughter insued, well, what else could they do? T’was a hotel room for fairies to come…..
And that my dear friends, brings my story to an end, of the original vajazzled vajajay.