Have you not seen Final Destination 4?

I was on the T (Boston mass transit) last week listening to a real balloon of a bitch braying into her blackberry about her problems at work.  Actually, I was listening to NWA on my ipod byt the loud cow easily overpowered my apple earbuds.  To be fair to Steve, people outside the train were within earshot.  however, readers, my hearing was hardly the only sense being offended; this ho had a glow.  She was like the sun- when I shut my eyes I could see her through my eyelids.  Imagine Ralphie May stuffed with 10,000 kW of halloween lights: 

Ralphette was bitching to one of her trough buddies about a "client" at her employer, "Darque Tan", a tanning salon near my university.  While the nature of the blog is to be open to everyone, the following is addressed specifically to the chin strapped bastard asshole who founded and moronically named this place.

Dear Guido,
Fuck you.
-Mr. Dean

There is something gravely wrong with our culture. I made a rare appearance in class the other day, and I was really oggling one particular sorority girl (I'm not generalizing, she had the sweatshirt on).  I could not focus. This wasn't your typical in-class fantasizing. I wouldn't have hired the girl to blow me in pesos. It was a unique allure, even prompting the Nick Cage face of quizzical confidence:



Then it hit me. My female classmate looked like the ass of a 100lb firefly. She had such a glow I could almost hear it. With great pleasure I introduce the first addition to Mr. Dean's list: the hundreds of metros and whores countrywide that frequent tanning salons.

You were not tanning. What you meant when you said you were "tanning" is one of two things:
1. You just spent 10-30 minutes in a UV casket.
2. You just got buck naked and blasted with hi-liter ink.

Either option leads directly into a third conclusion-
3. You are an ugly jackass

Now you might think that no one really notices your polka dotted arms, or that it will fade into something resembling a tan in the near future, but you're wrong. Not soon enough. The good thing about real tanning is that idiots get burnt by the sun. It's natures way of telling you that you've done something wrong. Luckily for darque tanners, there's Mr. Dean's list to similarly read you the writing on the wall, until you pull your heads out of your radioactive asses and can read for yourselves.