The Spritz Hits The Fan
When it comes to Coachella, I am nothing if not prepared. After all, I have plenty of Coachella experience under my fashionable studded belt, since I've attended the fest every year except its kickoff in 1999. (My sister had the gall to get married that particular weekend, AND request that I be her maid of honor--where are her priorities, I ask? Plus, she eventually got divorced, so I missed Coachella '99 for nothing! Sheesh.)
Anyhoo, I've been gearing up for Coachella '07 for some time now. First, I've been slathering on the self-tanner daily, in anticipation of baring an uncharacteristic amount of flesh; of course, after that week of fake-baking, I ironically spent all day today slathering on SPF 70 sunscreen to avoid getting, you know, an ACTUAL (read: melanoma-spiked) tan. How effed-up is THAT logic?
(By the way...yes, the blindingly WiteOut-white photo of me above is what I look like AFTER self-tanner has been applied, repeatedly, to my fishbelly-pale complexion. Kinda sad, isn't it?)
Also for the last week or so, as further prep for all that flesh-baring, I've been pretty much subsisting on a diet of sugar-free Red Bull, and, um, air. Lemme ask you, is it neurotic that I actually packed a SCALE in my Coachella suitcase? Er, probably. Yep, I need help. But please, readers, postpone the intervention until after Coachella--I swear I'll go back to solid food then.
Anyway, I was happy with the number I saw when I stepped on my travel scale this morning, so I confidently donned the slinkiest, most revealing outfit in my luggage (this hawt strapless green number) and headed out to Coachella with my always well-stocked duffle bag: Baby wipes? Check. Phone charger? Check. Hat, sunglasses, sunscreen, windbreaker? Check, check, check, and doublecheck.
But there's a new item in my bag this year: This fabulous portable device, a recent purchase from CVS, which you can see me enjoying in the photo above. It's a fan! It's a mister! Wow, kids...it's a MISTER-FAN! Best. Invention. Ever.
Yes, this battery-operated miracle doohickey doused me with a fine ocean-like spray while simultaneously blasting a cool mechanized breeze in my face all day long. Genius! And this mister seemed to attract the "misters," too, if ya catch my drift, since many dudes approached me to flirtatiously ask for a spritz. Too bad they were all lame, though...but I stayed cool. Literally!
