i heart hot tubs

Dear Albany Sauna staff,

I honor the safety-first motto just as dutifully as any other "early years" Burning Man attendee. And your commitment to my health and well being, as evidenced by the hose on the wall (in case of fire, I'd have guessed I'd be okay in a hot tub, but you're ahead of me), the no-slip strips on the stairs, the help-me-get-up handles everywhere, well it is all sincerely appreciated. But given this:
I question the need for this:
Otherwise, bravo for a no-fuss, Poconos-resort-nobody-puts-baby-in-the-corner, golden-era-of-American-lodge-life spa experience. And the copper pipe that waterfalls into the hot tub? A+ inspiration right there.

a rarity

Here, I'll say it. I want this dress. As in, would spend a stupid amount of money to get it. I want it. I should have it. The world owes it to me, and what's more, the thing was built for me. In fact, Katie here is probably my size. So give it over, girl. Don't make me come down to Santa Monica to get it.



That's your June post of vanity and materialism. You're welcome. (Oh and Kate, I'll take the shoes too, honey. Thanks.)