Opening the scrapbook...Panama City, FL

Me (top left), Morgan, Katie, Emma (bottom left), Kaylee

Meet my best friends,

aren't they gorgeous?

(Inside & out)

They make my laugh a little louder,

my smile a little brighter,

& my life a little better.

Pop, Lock & Drop It

My friends and I have never been "partiers."

Being from a ridiculously small southern hole-in-the-wall town, "parties" consisted of beer, a bonfire, perhaps in an open field, or to be fancy, a barn.

Yes, I wish I was kidding.

No, I am not.

Not our chic scene, might I say. While our class of high school morons were taking part in the field/barn/beer bash, we were reading Cosmo and painting our fingernails. We were feasting on cookie dough while they were drunkenly trying to tip a cow.

College wasn't much different (for me). I go to a private christian university, and while I'm not naive enough to believe there aren't any parties, I definitely don't hear about them. Or participate.

The only thing that could ever call me to party would be dancing. The girls, too. We love to dance. Funny thing is, I can't dance. I don't have too much expertise in the rhythm category, but I do it because it's FUN.

So while in Panama, we hit up (that's my gangster talk) a very popular club. One you might have seen on MTV's Spring Break special. Don't worry mom and dad, we did not participate in the wet t-shirt contest.

But we did dance. For hours. Two nights in a row, actually.

And we did make some friends.

And then, alcohol and drug free, we went back to the hotel and took a dip in the hot tub.

Which is very chic, might I say.

Pictures worth one-thousand words

My plan to update daily while in Panama was, well, an epic failure.
Quite frankly, I was having too much fun to worry about my silly computer.

I wish I would have updated daily for my own personal recollection, but you know what they say- pictures are worth a thousand words.

Thankfully, five girls with six cameras (I had two) means a lot of "words" that will certainly last a lifetime, as will the memories.

So what did we do? Woke up around 9 a.m. every morning and laid on the beach, swam in the ocean, picked up shells, and worked on our cannon bombs in the pool until 2-3 p.m. Then we headed upstairs, dolled up, and hit up Panama's night life. It's not MTV's Spring Break city for no reason. Let's leave it at that.

You should see how tan I am.

Flat. Busy, Tired, Tire.

Katie laying out

After leaving the hooker hotel we finished up the drive to Panama.

View from our condo


We went to the beach as soon as we checked out our room!

After beaching it up for a few hours, we came back to the room, showered, and got cute for the night. We planned on eating at Margaritaville but then this happened:

A flat tire.

We went to Walmart but they were unable to fix it, but they put the spare on. By then the line for Margaritaville was out the door, so we ate at Reggae J's Island Grill.

It was good!

More later.

Road Trip & Hooker Hotels

Sunday afternoon, me and four of my best friends (Kaylee, Morgan, Emma, Katie) began the 12 hour road trip to Panama City Beach, FL.

The road trip was like all others- loud, fun, complete with lots of snacks. And lots of road. Around 11 we decided to stop for the night in Pensacola and finish the drive Monday morning. Mistake.

What did five girls book because they had a really nice condo waiting for them in Panama? The Budget Inn. For the very low price of $45 dollars, we got:

1. The repulsing & nauseating smell of moth balls mixed with the heavy stench of cigarette smoke

2. A lamp, brown and stained

3. Disintegrating ceiling tiles

4. Hair in the shower. Not the kind from your head.

5. Did I mention the smell?

The smell. Oh, the smell. There aren't words to describe it. Overpowering fits best. We could smell it from outside before we even went in the room. Once inside, Katie gagged a few times.

None of us could breathe.

And let's be blunt, this is a hooker hotel.

And let's be honest, I probably contracted a viral disease.

Or at least Hepatitis.

Unable to sleep in our hooker room in our hooker beds, we talked until 3 a.m., "slept" and "woke up" at 7, and left.

You better believe we got a refund.