The whole gang.
Find the one you think is the most astonishingly gorgeous.
I know you've been waiting for the report on our annual girls' weekend, and instead I kept the story of my kreepy karma kicking my kiester on my blog for over a week.
I believe that if you can't share your innermost rottenness with the world, then why bother blogging at all.
But we did indeed have an awesome time on our weekend.
There are no stories to tell.
I know! What family was I in Park City with, anyway??
First, the weather was glorious. And what with it being the first of October, Deer Valley was totally showing off.
Second, we were staying in a beautiful home, owned by my dear friends, Walt and Karen.
This is, like, a fifth of the house.
We're that tiny group on the right of the screen, doing crafts or talking about boys or something like that.
Third, and this is the last time I use a numbering system to tell a story, we were only moderately wacky.
We all got Halloween socks...
Mine are the black ones.
No, wait. Mine are the purple ones.
No, that's not right, either.
Mine are the ones with Halloween stuff on them.
Yeah. That's it.
...and some of us had to show how tricky we were...
...and my 68-year old mother.
She's very, very tricky.
And of course, we did the tram and the Alpine slide and all those things you do in Park City when you're with a bunch of girls and the weather is perfect and everyone is showing off.
We can't figure out if Amber is the youngest aunt or the oldest niece.
She's the most fun, either way.
I think we took these from the tram.
Or from one of several balconies.
Or perhaps from the master bathroom.
And the photographers of the family took fancy pictures...
My daughter Vanessa took this with her little point n' shoot.
The hairdo lineup. Guys, I bet you do this when you go hunting.
Admit it. You totally do each other's hair.
Amber, Kim, Jill, Me, Mom.
Sorry. We're all spoken for.
Avery, Vanessa, Karyn, Sally, Madisson, Corinne, London
How cute are THEY??
And of course I had to rebuff Amber's advances...again. We had hoped the electroshock treatments would take this time. Alas. They did not.
What might have been a lovely glam shot...
...becomes one more reason for therapy.
BTW, check out that giraffe tongue on the perp.
And the umpteen chins on the victim.
Hard to know who to feel sorrier for, huh?
And we generally just lazed around and ate and crafted and hot tubbed for three whole days. I know. It sucks to be us.
And then, it was time to go home. But before we did, I had to take a bath in the master bedroom's gloriously gigantic bathtub.
Yes. I took pictures. Duh.
This tub was twelve feet deep if it was an inch. And a good thirty feet long. Seriously, I could have surfed in there. There was a tidal schedule posted on the door.
Now, I don't have to tell you, being in that tub was as close to being back inside the womb as you can get without things turning awkward at family reunions.
But...there was one hitch: How, exactly, did one get into the tub? The idea is that, once you are ready to actually bathe, you are -- and I don't want to shock my more delicate readers, so close your eyes if depictions of graphic nudity offend you -- naked.
However, scaling that rock wall and then rappelling down the polished interior was ... um ... rather ... you know ... adventuresome.
As if that weren't enough, I no sooner got settled into this haven of watery bliss than I felt a sneeze coming on.
That's right. A sneeze.
Look at the first picture, the one depicting the Lake Michigan half of the bathroom. Do you see the tissue box? Can you tell that it's 3.8 miles from the tub?
Have I mentioned that it's sometimes hard to be me?
So, out of the depths I rose, like a sniffly, snuffly movie monster, and made a damp and desperate attempt to reach the tissues in time to thwart the aforementioned sneeze.
To no avail.
So then I nearly drowned trying to ... oh, never mind. Just picture the drain at the bottom of the tub and my hands and nose up above the tub and twelve feet of water between them and work it out for yourselves.
Anyway, the rest of the bath was uneventful until every single female in the house decided to come looking for me and almost beat the door down -- clearly out of their skulls because they hadn't considered what they would do if they'd succeeded catching me in my Godzilla suit.
And then it was time to tree-frog my way out of the tub, mountain-goat down the rock face, and officially declare Girls' Weekend 2011 a raging success.
You know it's been a perfect vacation when the only story you have to tell is the one where you slimed Tokyo.
I gotta say, I could get used to that.