Beautyscopes – August 2007

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August is the epicenter of summer, the real show of strength, the race to the finish. Truly and sincerely, my sisters-in-sweat, we’re in for a rough patch coming up – and it won’t be no Country Time lemonade children leaping through starry prairie fantasies, no one-horned horses roaming free ranges with fairy-dust sifting from glistening manes, no Sugar Plum Fairies skating to Ice Castles’ theme (major throwback to ’78 – you know what I’m talking about, old timers), nor romantic visions of Snowflake Queens dancing across Fudgie the Whale’s tale. Truth be told – it’s shaping up to be a messy affair (hot mess, in H’wood terms). I’m sorry, do forgive oh-mighty-August, I’m sure you know what you’re doing and all, but 98 degrees is a tad extreme (don’t cha think?); 2000.5% humidity seems a gross violation of some law (of nature or human capacity or whatever); and sweating clear through my gorgeous new H&M-looks-o-so-expensive-little-number at schmancy Kenneth Cole cocktail féte is a major faux pas I decline to repeat. So what to do? Oh the agita! Just plaster on your party grin, remember that we’re all in this together, it’s a team building exercise and such (oh God, are you buying into this?).

Is it truly all that heinous in the belly of this frying pan? Indeed it is but NYC we love, so we shall resign to our collective fate in this searing cauldron we call home – throw a tofu steak on the Barbie, blast the air, sweat it out to the oldies and just foggedaboutit, I say. Indeed, what would the Wicked One of the West or that squawking YouTube Snowman think about all these scalding waves? One can only imagine…


  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  
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