Health Tips from Raggle, Part I: Tan Hard or Die Trying

Salt Lake City has earned itself the nasty reputation of being one of the healthiest cities in America.  This is wrong.  We are not California.  In this new installment, I’m gonna work hard (but not workout) to give hope to all those degenerates who believe that life without Whole Foods, Zumba dance and sunblock is still worth living! 

(For those of you that find malnutrition, cancer, death, and terrifying STD tests sticky subjects, please take all this advice with a boulder of Himalayan pink salt, and continue on sanitarily masturbating to Dr. Oz.  Also, doooooon’t get mad at me if my guidelines give you frown lines.  That just means you’re doing it wrong.)

No! I'm Too Young!

I almost spilt my beer when my mom called me out over the phone last week for not inviting her or dad to my wedding that happened nearly six years ago.  “That was so…mean,” she choked.  Seated cross-legged, I puffed on my cigarette twice before answering.  My eyes impulsively fixed on my own reflection in the standing mirror placed clumsily near the corner of the smoking lounge (read:  freezing cold ‘sun room’ of my apartment).  Only a minute ago, we were having such a great conversation about the Clutter family murders of 1959, one of those “we never talk, but Now. We. Are. TALKING!” type of tête-à-têtes only nearly estranged mothers and daughters can share.  Now my heart was racing, and a black hole was forming around the outline of my face in the mirror.  “Keep it honest,” I thought quietly.  “You’re never honest with her.”  Suddenly, for no good reason at all, I went into hyper-revelation mode that resembled something disturbingly like this: