If You're Going To San Francisco...

Dearest crazies,

I'm back from the City of Angels; tis bitter, bittersweet. I missed you all and I'm bursting at the seams with holiday pounds gained  IDEAS. But, I fear the California comedown has plunged me into a spiraling melancholy. HELP!

As I write this, my skin still feels warm and nourished from the glorious rays of El Ay soleil. Every second I watch my tan fade slightly and the vainest piece of me, hiding deep within LAID OUT IN THE OPEN FOR ALL TO SEE, dies slowly. It reminds me of something my sister always says about flowers: "I hate flowers. Don't give them to me. They're temporary. They're just going to die." Well, duh... OBVI, POOKIE. But they look so beyootiful and they impart the most magical fragrance while they live. Isn't this worth the inevitable dry, scrunching brown buds? Isn't it worth the supreme torture of watching the life in your favorite peonies dissipate daily? Ps, lovers: peonies are my favourite flower... you know... if you're feeling generous and you really missed me/want to give me a cruel, temporary gift.

Who wants to live forever, anyway?

Where am I going with this? Who the hell knows. Oh wait, no, I remember. The tan. Yes - a tan is like flowers. It's batshit beautiful. You admire it so much. You smugly show it off to all your untanned, cottage cheese coloured companions. Until it fades. And leaves you with nothing but pallid, lifeless, white - the horror - skin. (There is a brilliant segway here somewhere, babies, I promise!)

I'll be the first to say it: THE FEELGOOD FEELING THE TAN GIVES IS WORTH THE TORTURE OF WATCHING IT FADE AWAY. AND the joy you receive from watching your flowers bloom is worth the bleaching/frantic scrubbing of the vase that comes after you (read: I) disgustingly leave my rotting stems to mould like Gorgonzola against the crystal. Yum. Feeling sexual yet?

For me: Flowers = Tan and Tan = Flowers. So, lately, given the presence of my temp-tan, I've been thinking - why not book the presidental suite, run the jacooz, pop the cork and let two, finally, become one? It's a pretty scrumptious combination. The PB & Jam (or if you're a little wopchild like me, PB & Nutella) of morbid, vain-seeking delights. What exactly do I mean by this, chickens? Well - basically, nothing goes more naturally with a tan than wearing some flowers. And by suggesting this, I do not implore you to run off and purchase floral clothing - this would not be so groundbreaking. Instead, I suggest a trip to the florist, your back garden, or, if you're like me, someone else's garden, to steal the fruits of their blood, sweat, tears and labour. In the words of my fave crazy songstress: I'm not THAT innocent. 

GET THEE SOME FLOWERS, KIDS. AND THEN PUT THEM IN YO HAIR. This is my favourite new accessory and, trust, it will soon be yours. Fashun them into a crown to sit atop your crazy little heads; shove some in your haphazard, sumo bun; pin them into your milkmaid braids. +500 points if you have a tan (from real sun or from, gasp, the bottle). Go all insane and unique with your florals. Need some inspiration:

If you aren't ready to do ACTUAL flowers, the marvelous people at Valentino have given you another chic option. When it comes to adorning your crown with buds, you can now do it by sporting wiry, floweresque headgear! No doubt inspired by our lord and saviour Senor Christo, I call this Catholi-chic.

 Kinda reminds you of this ol' thing, don't it? No?:

Would pinning daisies in the elastic make this fashun?

In conclusion, some of you may be wondering - what gives this girl the authority to say flowers in the hurr are cool? I bet this crazy bitch won't go buy flowers and pin them in her own damn hair!!!!

To you sassy skeptics I say: HA HA.

Lovers, I've been sporting the trend my whole life. Check out THESE flowers. Made even more sensual by the slick, synagogue-style sideburns.

Your crazy leader/blog BFF, age: ADORABLE.

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