Summer Can Suck It

Ok, I took a bit of a hiatus from blogging, but it’s summer, right? We’re supposed to be friggin’ lazy. Well, let me clarify: my cyber sloth did not stem from lounging poolside slurping down butt loads of spiked lemonade and eating sushi at 10pm followed by throwing back shots in an open-air rooftop lounge until 2AM. (FAKKK MY LIFE!!!). I’ll just burst this strapless rompered- and-espadrilled bubble for all you Summa’ Lovahs out there: being Preggers when it’s 95 degrees OUTSIDE and 120 degrees INSIDE YOUR BODY does NOT feel like life at the closest Malibu beach house. Actually, it feels more like HELL ….with no alcohol sponsor.  Hot flashes could come with a hormonal disclaimer: YOU WILL WANT TO KILL EVERYONE IN SIGHT, especially anyone sporting a Margarita, a flat stomach, and a smile (salty, tequila drenched elixirs become more desirable than a new Celine bag). So screw all of y’all, AND YOUR POOL PARTIES. I’ll be holing up in my biological crack den until further notice.

PS – My husband made this. Yup, he ROCKS (and so does the fact that our grill is 12 steps away from central air conditioning and our TIVO). So who the f*ck needs Malibu and Beach Bunny branded ass floss? I got  a hot man piece who knows how to ‘twerk a spatula.


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