I sat down last night and then again this morning prepared to write a what-to-wear-in-99-degree-heat post complete with an unrelated picture of the baby lovepuff sleeping on top of my wallet - his way of ensuring I don't leave without arousing his "you're-leaving-me-alone-again??" fury - and more topic-appropriate recommendations from both "If I had a sugar daddy..." and "Since I don't (yet)" price points, but on both occasions, I got as far as promoting a threads-free Tantric Sunday, tissue-tees and v-plunge linen cover-ups before the AC-free stifle of my apartment (the pup and I both prefer jungle hot over a faux cool) caused a complete creative-writing meltdown.
So while I'm out doing my best poolside impression of Eva in Capri (coinslot included), do me a favor and grant me a teensy bit of slack on the minimal creative output you'll see here today.
The kind of slack, I guarantee you, I won't be granted elsewhere...
6 comments:
Anyone, hot or not, who talks about her dog this much needs a boyfriend.
Perhaps...but the thing is, when I *did* have a boyfriend, I still talked about the pup this much -- perhaps even more.
Anyhoo, off to the pool!
J
if you had Monte, you'd talk about him this much, too. He's to die for.
Go to the pool! Take a break! But I'd love to see that list of recs upon your return...
I had to look up "coinslot" on the web. Does that mean I'm too old to be reading your blog? So depressing...
If you get any tanner, you'll look like a Jersey girl. STOP NOW!
DC people sure do think your ass needs a boyfriend. Come to L.A. -- no one here has respect for or the desire to be in a relationship!
The Eva Mendes' coinslot pic is money, btw.
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