Saturday, A Photo Essay

Today I got a mass text from my cousin C asking if anyone wanted to join her at the South Beach Art Deco Festival. I had planned on lounging in my own filth and eating myself into a food coma, but seeing as how I've done that EVERY day for the last sixteen days, I decided to take her up on her offer. She asked me to bring Whitey so I packed him up and drove to the beach. Gosh, my rearview mirror is so dirrrrty!

There was a ton of traffic, but the ride was beautiful.It took me forever to park. But finally, FINALLY, I made it. But to my eternal, ever-lovin' surprise, guess who has two thumbs and was the third wheel? That would be moi. C brought her boyfriend M. And although I like M lots, I was the odd man out. However, M was very good with Whitey. If something ever happens to J and me, they would be great legal guardians. They, funnily enough, were not too thrilled about the idea.


Whitey was driving me nuts. Oh. My. Word. He is the worst behaved dog. EVER. He was barking all crazy and getting scrappy with every dog we came across.

But not this one. He was in lurve with her.

And EVERYONE wanted to ask me a bajillion questions about him. What kind of dog is he? What's his name? How old is he? Can I pet him? Blah, blah, blah. I told C that if one more person asked me about him I was going to get all bajiggity on them. But then, of course, who should walk by and point at my little pooch, who by then is in a Geico gym bag?

None other than:

This photo is airbrushed. Big time.

Brooke fucking Hogan. Shut your mouth!

There was lots to see. Nothing that I would've wanted to buy, though. I really think I have an aversion to "vintage" clothing. I read about a gazillion blogs about people who shop and wear vintage clothing, and they look lovely. So lovely, in fact, that sometimes I operate under the delusion that I too would like to wear vintage. Um, no. No. No. No.

It was a long day, and I'm happy to be home.