After the wicked migraine brought on by drinking a half-bottle of Moët & Chandon with a jigger of Palma pomegranate liqueur in yesterday's 92 degree heat, I've decided to make today's field trip to the only pool in SW a little less Delta Delta Delta Vandy-chapter inspired.
So, instead of drinking $25 worth of Champagne from my out-of-town friend's fridge (kudos to R for his generosity), today I'm gonna just stick to Volvic and fruit punch Gatorade.
Instead of InStyle, I'll listen to last week's "Nightline" podcasts and read those three Dorothy Parker short stories I've been saving for a rainy day.
Instead of Akon and Britney, I think I'll revisit the soundtrack of my early childhood with some Everly Brothers, Dion, Fats Domino, Buddy Holly, The Archies and Johnny Rivers.
Instead of channeling Eva Mendes' hotness (I won't lie, that love-scenes-make-me-nervous bullshit she pulled in Cannes took her down a notch for me), I think I'll make a rare turn for a blonde with the recently-crowned "hottest damn woman period" by the sports show of similar name, six-year SI swimsuit issue veteran, Ms. Marisa Miller.
And just because I'm the kind of woman who likes to share the spoils of her Internet searches with her friends, here below are a few snaps from Marisa's most recent photoshoot.
I do warn you, though, check body-confidence at the door before you take a peek. I forgot to do so and am now bandying between a full-coverage one-piece and a makeshift burkha.
And because my Mom thinks I should talk about boys more...
