If it comes in a tub ...

... it can't be good for you. At least, that's what Beth and I discussed over a tub o' Coldstone Creamery Peanut Butter Cup Perfection ice cream a few minutes ago. Other examples? Tub O' Lard, Tub O' Butter, Tub O' Indian Food. See what we mean? And, although everything we've eaten and done this weekend hasn't come in tubs, it might has well have. We've done everything in excess, nothing in moderation. And what fun it's been!

I mentioned Thai food Friday night after my day wrecking the car? and Indian Food (A Taste of India, the place was called) after art museuming and coffee shopping? Well, yesterday morning, we woke up around 9 and were at the beach less than an hour later, soaking up a Tub O' Sun on Tybee Island. Lunch was a brief, hot walk on the sand later at 1, where we dined on Pina Coladas and Tubs of Plantains, Corn/Avocado Dip, and a Crab cake sandwich at the North Beach Grill. Then it was a tub o' sleep (naptime) before we went to a tub of parties (two, actually, but within a 5 hour span of time and only disturbed by a delicious seafood dinner somewhere in the middle, it was more partying than I've done in longer than I can remember.). The seafood was found at AJ's, a little hole in the wall joint on the Intercoastal Waterway, where you can eat on the dock, watch the sunset, and listen to a musician who could make a very good living in Vegas as a James Taylor impersonator. Oh, and one of the parties included a tub of EMS boys. Not literally a tub, before you all get too jealous, haha. I think they were highly flattered that Beth the Surgeon showed up, and we both felt REALLY old, but they were all quite adorable. There had to have been a million of them there, for real.

Today, after waking up at 11 (see? nothing in moderation!), we headed to a place called the Firefly Cafe for brunch, which was great. Then, if our tub of water wasn't full enough after yesterday's morning at the beach, we rode Jet Skis all afternoon. No, not all afternoon. But a few hours, leaving enough time for us to get pedicures at the nail spa. Beth had a tub of pumice stone ... the lady scraped her feet so much, they started bleeding! Gross, I know. Sorry.

After pedicures and showers, we went downtown to eat sushi, then out to Target where we spent TWO tubs of money (I got a cool Beatles t-shirt, though), then to Cold Stone Creamery where the idea for this blog came about in the first place.

So. Tubs. The more I think about it, they aren't always bad. You get in them, they get you clean. However, you stay in them long enough, and your skin gets all weird and wrinkly. You get waterlogged. you look like a prune. What's my point? My point is that this bath of indulgence has been great. Could I live like this? Not a chance. So tomorrow, when I return to my landlocked Macon, step on the ominous bathroom scale, cook my Weight Watchers dinners, get a dose of reality at the car body shop, and log my multitude of purchases in my checkbook, I'll be happy and not disappointed. Because what's the point of a tub, if you don't ever get out of it and experience the refreshment gained from your time spent there?