My friend, Robin, and I are taking a mini-vaca to Seattle. We are both really excited to see things like the market and the first Starbucks (that might be me more than Robin). We had both wished we could travel to Europe, but traveling to Europe can get really pricey, so we settled on Seattle for the first week of June, and our excited to enjoy cooler weather and the city which was the invention of grunge.

My seventeen year old nephew, David, as a former Northwest resident, gave me some tips, but the only one I remember is: "Watch Sleepless in Seattle, while in Seattle."

I'd kind of like to do this, but I'm scared airport security might confiscate my cheesiness. Until then, I'm going to be listening carefully on the airwaves for any lonely, non-creepy men who might want to meet in Seattle--or at the top of the Empire State Building.

By being a naturally pale person, I qualify to be a spokesperson for the Unofficial Fake Tan Society.

I have been fake-tanning for several years. I was first exposed to fake tanning at about 7 years of age when my sister purchased a bottle of QT by Coppertone (Quick Tanning). I quickly learned through her example that the misapplication of the liquid or failure to thoroughly wash hands afterwards can lead to a fake tan disaster characterized by the classic "orange palm" syndrome. Orange knees, orange elbows and ankles, and also strange streaks can also be attributed as side effects of misapplication.

The hard part about fake tanning is waiting for the after effect. You can follow all the directions perfectly, and still have weird things happen.

A few mistakes I've made through the years:

1) Not applying the "lotion blocker" to my feet in a spray tanning booth. My philosophy was that my feet weren't being sprayed...why did I need to put it on the bottom of my feet? I neglected to think about all the spray that had collected onto the floor of the booth. And I wound up with my co-worker deemed "Kroger-feet"--how a child's feet look after walking barefoot through a grocery store.

2) Post airbrush tan, I got splattered with water drops from the sink. Also, please note, avoid rain like the plague. Every drop will equal another mess-up to your tan.

3) Don't exercise post-spray tanning until after you've showered. I went to a spin class and discovered that I was sweating off my tan onto a white gym towel. I tried to keep folding the towel so no one would notice. Not sure I pulled it off.

My most preferred way to fake-tan is the airbrush tan. It does require a time period of inactivity and water avoidance (if you follow the rules of Gremlin care you should be okay). And it's a bit expensive to do on a regular basis. It's the perfect bridesmaid dress solution, but don't ever forget the rules--or your expensive fake tan will be ruined!

I have fake tanned at home by using a Loreal aeresol spray, which is much less expensive than other spray brands (such as Fake Bake), but the other spray brands do a better job and the color looks like the fancy airbrush tan.

The most simple and full proof way to get some color (when you are the lighter shade of pale anything helps) is Jergens lotion that has a bit of self-tanner. You're less likely to have a mistake that will last for a week in spite of scrubbing and praying.

So, please heed the words of tanning wisdom I have offered--it could make your dark days less embarrassing and much more attractive.

Happy fake tanning!

Who would have ever imagined that the stars would align and the year that UK went to the Final Four tournament, it would be in Houston, and I would get to go?!

I was very nervous on Friday debating if I should/should not go to the tournament. Friday night, I navigated my way through what I hoped was a reputable website, and I got some nosebleed tickets. It was hard finding a Texas friend that would tag along with me, but my sweet friend, Wendy, was up for the adventure.

Saturday felt like it was going to be prom night or something. Wendy and I went to a sports store to buy binoculars and blue shirts. She kept showing me blue shirts to which I would reply, "No, not the right color. It's not Kentucky blue."

I found that finding Kentucky blue in Texas is a difficult task.

One of the coolest things was getting to sit with my old high school classmate, Paul, at the game. He and his cousin had driven all night from Kentucky to see the game. Through the wonders of text messaging from my brother in Kentucky to Paul (who attends my brother's church), we found each other in the sea of 75,000 and were able to join our parties. Their seats had a much better view of the court than the ones Wendy and I had.

It was good to have Paul's commentary for the game, which I highly respect since he was the high school star for us back in the day and currently serves as our alma mater's head coach. He was busy text messaging his family, his team from home, and teachers, whom I'm sure also wanted his commentary. I bet he felt like an ambassador from our home county for the game. I kind of felt like that, too, for my family. It was an honor.

All in all, the Cats played hard, but shot too many bricks in the beginning. It reminded me when I would play games of Horse with my cousins, and be stuck on the "H" for what seemed like eternity. I thought that the refs made some not so great calls, but that's basketball.

I directed Wendy's attention to the UK cheerleaders. They are, and will always be, awesome. They are classic, and perform to perfection--syncronized backflips, a rotating pyramid, flawless handstands--they are the untouchables of the cheerleading world.

I'm sad to say that next year, the Final Four will be in New Orleans. It was so great having my home state and my new home state meet together. Good times. Good times.