The Squirrel Chronicles

One of the radio stations here in town is doing a Shuffle Weekend, and playing Old School pop crap mixed in with your current typical Beyonce and Brittany pop crap. I was barraging myself with Old School weekend during my morning ab workout, when VANILLA ICE blasted into my sweaty world.
Not that long ago my friend Catherine and I attended a Vanilla Ice concert. And by "not that long ago" I mean 3 years ago.
Yes, we went to see Vanilla Ice when he was NO LONGER cool.
Tickets were only 10 dollars, and as pre-teens, we had both been shafted, and had not seen Vanilla Ice Live when he was at the top of his fame and fortune. We also figured that, since the music would most probably BLOW, there would be a lot of white trash to entertain us while we were there. We, in fact attempted to blend into the crowd, and dressed like white trash hookers. I have a distinct memory of Catherine's ample cleavage popping out of a Hooters tank top. I cannot remember what I wore, and it is probably better that way.
The concert was mostly unmemorable. I DO remember that they played the Vanilla Ice song TWICE, and we thought that was extraordinarily amusing. I also remember quite a few male attendees were quite appreciative of Catherine's cleavage.

So that was my morning. It was really nice in comparison to my afternoon, where I searched for hours on the internet for cheap wedding ideas, and found that NO MATTER WHAT, my fiancee and I are being raped by the industry.

So check out the hook while my DJ revolves it.