Uitstekende alligator dragen- $495, Uitstekend Skins.com

Iedereen wie u geld vertelt kan geen geluk kopen heeft een prijsmarkering.

De persoon die geld haat weet niet het geld enkel een hulpmiddel is u terwijl het werken bewerkt voor wat u houdt, dat het contante geld een geheim voorgeheugen voor onafhankelijkheid is, die document bedekt de uitbreiding van uw horizon, dievan het geld voor pret maakt wanneer u het voor een uitstekende alligator dragen-op uitwisselt, plus kaartjes aan Hong Kong voor uw 20 iets' Thverjaardag drukte.

Samen met Chinese hookers.

Ik beteken hookahs.

De bikini van Missoni $345 $207, Net-a-Porter.com

Het leven zou een investering moeten zijn: de verhoudingen zouden u rente moeten betalen, zou één werkuur u twee meer uren van genoegen moeten kopen, en -

Deze bikini Missoni zou meer dan voor zich moeten betalen.

U kent, terwijl u vacaying, één of andere Katholieke Papa zult zien u zonnend, Missoni bikinibovenkant die aan de kant geworpen, en de vader zal uren met u willen doorbrengen.

Het spreken over Jesus over een diner dat inbegrepen $207 kost, belasting en verschepen niet.

Dat is wat ik, u bedoel Mooie Vrouw.

Disney Couture “Mirror Mirror” necklace $65, ShopIntuition.com

“What do you want to do today?” asks The Boy.

I look up from my laptop, my eyes trailing from the toe to the head of his figure stretched out on our hotel bed. “How about Starbucks?” My only real interest in Orlando, in most of Florida, was The Boy in wrinkled sheets on a work-day morning, between his business meetings. “What do you think?”

“I think we’re 30 minutes away from Disney World, so we’ve got to go. Have you ever been?”

“Disney Land, yes,” I say. “But not Disney World.” I see a flash of sticky heat, sticky hands, sticky public seats, but I blink, and decide, “Let’s do it.”

He buys the tickets online, and we shuttle over to a car rental company. The Boy feels his pants’ pockets at the counter. “I forgot, I don’t have my license,” says The Boy. “You’ll have to rent the car.”

I hand over my driver’s license. “So long as I get laid for this.”

KEEP READING »

Zoe & Morgan cloud necklace $180, Net-a-Porter.com

“Mind if I sit near the window?” The Boy, my boy, nods his assent, so I squeeze his ass and slip into the leather seat.

The jet slides inside the sky, and gravity pushes me against my chair: soft as a bed, I feel it from heel to head. We’re angling into the air, entering the blue blurring with the Pacific. I watch the earth fall off, like a silk nightie slipping to the floor, and the outside shrinks: the ocean waves smooth into regular rolls, then tiny splashes, and finally just a pretty pattern played up by the sun. Just a product for my pleasure.

We keep climbing.

KEEP READING »

Celestina mother of pearl clutch $1,160, Vivre.com

Lazy waves hum, cars chuckle over cobbled streets, and layered thick above this I hear tinny music piping through the hot air. I take The Boy’s hand and we walk deeper into Puerto Vallarta, the music growing fatter. Soon we intersect a parade swaying towards the chapel tower we’d heard ringing in the morning. I step in line with Mexican kids that barely hit the hem of my skirt, and a priest splashes holy water on the children, on me.

“Watch out that it doesn’t burn!” The Boy calls across the river of people.

I smile and nod, teetering into the church on vintage hooker heels. I stare up towards heaven, and see centuries-old paintings of Christ suffering, watching over a naive scene of natives singing his praise. I feel a presence focus on me, and I turn my eyes earthward: there’s a teenaged boy eying my legs.

KEEP READING »

Missoni sun hat $210, Net-a-Porter.com

“Wake up, baby.”

I blink away a dream of hard blacks and whites, and the Pacific sun dances on my face and bells’ bright noise bounce through the room.

“Listen, it’s that church,” The Boy says. I look out the window, and over hotels crumbling into the blue air, I see a green hillside tiled with soft white homes, setting off the rusting iron crown of a church tower.

“Very charming,” I say. Then I sit up, listening more carefully. “That’s my iPhone’s alarm.” I turn it off.

“Oh,” The Boy says, and his voice is an echo of mine from last night, when we taxied into seaside Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, and passed my personal North Star, Starbucks. “La estrellas bucks!” I cooed. “So we’re still in civilization.”

KEEP READING »

My vacay is almost ended.

One more seafood burrito and not-so-skinny dip in the roof-top pool with The Boy, and we’re flying back to Cali.

Thank you, baby Jesus. Relaxing is too stressful.

Stories about El Nino’s and my Mexican frolics to follow.

XXXO,
K

Chloe “Myrte” sunglasses $290, Net-a-Porter.com
Though I practically live there already since I’m in Los Angeles, The Boy, my boy, is taking us to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico this weekend.

It should be exotic to be around so many people speaking English.

“The Boy’s taking you to Mexico?” my brother asked, on instant message. “Who’s paying?”

“Well, The Boy is, but it’s not like he’s a real sugar daddy,” I typed back. “I think he wants to sell me there.”

I’m trying to lay my Splenda daddy during our lay over, but he’s politely declined.

Details on all the carb-free tacos I eat and sunshine I block off with SPF 45 to follow.

XXXO,
K

Diane von Furstenberg suitcase $200, eBags.com
Even a boyfriend who hit 50 countries in a year was impressed with how I stuffed my “Betty Boopy shit” into a single bag for our one-week trip hitting four cities.

While flying buses aren’t excepted from my uniform of hooker heels and flapper frocks–

I pack like a dude.

And I always carry on. When you check in, you’re check yes to a risk of losing luggage, you check yes to your goodies getting fondled worse than you on prom night, you check yes to at least a half-hour that could be better spent with $10 on an iced soy latte at the airport Starbucks.

So check this carry-on Diane von Furstenberg luggage. The expandable suitcase is lined with DvF logos and a detachable toiletries kit, the pretty pewter makes the Diane von Furstenberg suitcase hard to lose sans shouting “Steal me” like a Louis print, and the boss DvF suitcase has rolling wheels, a necessary convenience when you travel alone and–

Haven’t eaten anything since yesterday.

Have a happy Labor Day weekend jetaway, lovelies.

XXXO,
K

Urth man skin care travel kit $59, GetUrth.com
While your K never wants to meet another KRiSTOPHER prettier than she is -

I don’t think women should be the only beauties.

Handsomies?

Get your boy to invest in his gorgeous face, be a sugar momma to your eye candy and gift him some Urth man skin care product. First class ancient Asian herbs, purest essential oils, all green and red and white teas, Urth skin care cleanser, scrub, shave cream, and SPF will keep your boy beautiful outside and -

I’d add “in,” but I know that’s no incentive as your boy’s already got a golden heart, of course you’re not dating your arm candy just for his looks.

Of course not.