Miami sound machine

So just yesterday I was saying that if only I had an all-expenses-paid vacation to Hawaii or Japan, I could read a book through in one sitting. And then, just this morning I found out that I'll be going to Florida. It's hardly Hawaii, but it will be warmer weather than here and it couldn't come at a better time, given our sudden hit of winter, so I'm not complaining. Besides, if you're going to do Florida, does it get any better than Miami? It's so cheesy, I can't hardly wait to sit back with a cocktail and watch some sand studs working on their biceps, Venice Beach-style. Hours of amusement. Oh right, and check out the new product.

I'm not allowed to talk about the product because it's under embargo, but all I can say is that when I told my husband he looked at me like I announced I'd be CAMPING in Florida. Because it's THAT un-girly. Funny thing is, it's targeted at women. Specifically women my age. So we'll see. Hopefully I'll be able to excel at it more than I do at camping.

Not that there's anything wrong with camping. I've tried camping. It's just not for me. I went as a little kid with my parents. Then I tried again for one night at Girl Guides. After setting up the tent, my ghetto blaster and mixed tape selection, passing out the latest issues of YM, Sassy and Mademoiselle, I then grabbed a raw hotdog for dinner (because who has the patience to wait for a wiener to cook when there are mixed tapes and magazines to read?). I was the first one picked up the next morning, and in my rush, I lost one of the posts for the tent. Surprisingly, my dad didn't seem that upset that we'd have a legitimate excuse to never go camping again.

Then, last summer, one of my girlfriends from high school who lives in the country invited me to her annual barbeque. The invite said that if you wanted to sleep over (so you could drink) that beds were being reserved for pregnant women or old people, so we should bring our camper or tent.

Camper or tent? I don't even own a SLEEPING BAG. This means two things: either I am ill-prepared to have kids or I am ill-prepared to live in the country.

I thought about bringing a pillow -- to stuff under my shirt and pass myself off as pregnant -- but decided instead on a bottle of Diet Coke, which I nursed for the evening, then drove half an hour to sleep at my dad's house, in my childhood bed. Now that's my kind of camping.

So, un-girly or not, I'm much more prepared for this product launch than I am to camp. Now all I have to do is select a book to read. And finish.