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What do you think of when some­one says they want to pam­per you on a night out.

Food, wine, mas­sages, etc?

How about watch­ing prac­ti­cally nekkid men get­ting spray-tanned?!

Yes, maam!  And for the record, they were no George Clooney, but enter­tain­ing all the same.

Last night I went out with some friends to a “Ladies Nite Out” affair.  It was being hosted by 417 Mag­a­zine.  It was a night of pam­per­ing.  They had a plas­tic sur­geon there, a vari­cose vein doc­tor, lots of wine and cock­tail tast­ings, furs to try on, a fash­ion show, and of course the male tan­ning booth.  It was really fun and the gals I went with were a hoot.  But obvi­ously I couldn’t quite get over the orange men.

I mean really.  How cocky can you be to stand in a room full of women, aged 30–50, with noth­ing but your red boxer briefs on and let some chicky-mama spray tan on you?  One dude had a ton of pur­ple in his hair, if that tells you any­thing.  Wait…my son has a pur­ple streak in his hair…*shudder*.

All in all 417 did a great job on the party and I had SO much fun…just some ran­dom, weird dreams.