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This Issue 02/17/2005

Also in this issue

• Back up in yo' Face
• Wait, Where's Jim Carrey?
• Shoutouts
• Sex, freud, and disney
• Keanu Reeves still can't act

It's probably a good idea not to get tanned before you get tanned (and by tanned we mean tanned and also drunk), as was initially the premise of this pre-Spring Break tanning investigation, because the whole thing is a lot more complicated than you might think. Both of us, one experienced, one less so, set out to see how brown we could get sans sun. Tanning is a secretive ritual, and here we are, bringing ultraviolet light to light.

Tanning is a very subtle art I (Gena) have learned. I went for the old school, but arguably more authentic, ultra violet cancer ride. Though my fingers are practically too sunburned to type, I feel I owe this account to Spring Breakers in training.

The process is deceivingly simple. Strip down, lather with moisturizing bronzer cream and step into the illuminated coffin, which I like to think of as Spring Break in a box. The music and lights in the box are mesmerizing enough to make you think that you are at your own club Hollywood tan -- but take care not to bump and grind to zealously.

Unlike an authentic spring break tanning experience, one should not get too comfortable while soaking up the U.V. rays. The HT-60 is NOT a vertical lounge chair. Lean up too closely against the floor to ceiling bulbs and you will be limping around with over exaggerated stretch marks on your ass -- the same one's you tried to tan off to begin with. Looking at the world through "Winkies" (overpriced foil eye protection you can buy at the front counter at Hollywood) has made me see things in a totally different light. This may also be because the little guys protected shit, and let the tan bulbs scar my retinas. The HT-60 is a serious piece of machinery and should by no means be operated while tanned.