Surrender, Dorothy

Let's Check In With the Ultra-Pool

On Tuesday, my co-workers and I ambled over to the windows to fill our gaze with Missouro-trash twentysomethings.  This is what we saw.

It made me happy. Next time I'll bring an actual camera with zoom.

New Feature: Let's Check in With the Ultra-Pool

Yesterday after a crazy-frustrating conference call, I put my head on my desk and let out a sob.  The Editor Across the Aisle came over immediately.  "You know, it's time to go look at the Ultra-Pool," she said. "It'll make you feel better."

So we headed over. I didn't have my camera with me at the time, but it DID make me feel better to see all those beautiful people running for shelter as it began to rain. Their little dog ran, too.

The Ultra-Pool is a combination nightclub/pool located on top of a grocery store next door to my office building. We've been eagerly watching it get built.

Who could wait?

One of my co-workers who sits conveniently near the window has even started a feeder business.

Next thing you know, he'll be buying California IOUs.

Yesterday, there was one guy who refused to get out of the Ultra-Pool, even though it was raining pretty hard. Which led Beloved and I to spend some time thinking about why anyone would join the Ultra-Pool to the tune of:

Membership Info:

• Platinum: $1,000 ($400/3 months)
• Executive: $750 ($300/3 months)
• Premium: $400 ($150/3 months)

I mean, it's okay, but some dude left a shopping cart there last night.

Must've been really hungry for Fourth Meal.

But, really, I do understand. There just aren't enough places for beautiful people to go here in Cowtown.

It's difficult to be young and hot so far from LAX.

So, Beloved, me, my co-workers -- we all put our heads together and came up with our collective Top  Reasons to Join the Ultra-Pool:

I dropped my kids off with my baby-daddy for the summer.

I love to show off my barbed-wire-armband tattoo.

I just spent $100 on this faux hawk.

We’re out of Zima, how about a Smirnoff Ice?

The warranty on my breasts goes for another ten years.

My spray tan wasn't working for me anymore.

This Speedo is much too vibrant.

The kids are at Montessori.

I'm just not meeting quality men at America's Pub.

“Whose visor is this?”  “Mine!”  “Mine!”  “Mine!”  “Mine!”  “Mine!”  “Mine!”  “Mine!”  “Mine!”  “Mine!”  “Mine!”  “Mine!” 

My life coach told me to.

Getting an STD was one of my New Year's resolutions.

I haven’t done a body shot this time of day since Spring Break in Padre ’92.

Stay tuned. Next time I'll photograph one of the beautiful people for you.

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In other news, miracles really happen. Read reader Exile on Mom Street's unbelievable Adoption Day miracle here.