so tomorrow i make my pilgrimmage to the city of angels to worship at the feet of the almighty silicone implant, the fearsome botox king, the collagen queen. my stout figure will wend its way through the streets that shun a size 12, mock yankee candles, and turn a blind eye to those who do not represent the utmost in laid back cool that can only be purchased for $$$$ on robertson blvd. the upper echelon understand that beverly hills is gauche, darling, and lisa kline is where it's at!
i quote my pal jez williams when i say, 'words they mean nothing so you can't stop me.'
yankee candle that goes best with a week's vacation: shores of tripoli
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