We went to Washington Park, which is like the Central Park of Denver. It was amazing! I was so impressed by the size of the park, all the little areas: the lake, the croquet field, the hedge maze, the volleyball park....and how many people were out! Everyone had dogs, and kids, and was barbecuing and toasting with frosty adult beverages. Everyone had pinatas and it was just so....awesome! Like an idyllic scene out of a Noxema commercial. We drank mojitos, and beat the shit out of a defenseless neon paper mache donkey, we played volleyball and I had a hot dog for the first time since I was 5yrs old. Well, Mojito me did. Regular me wouldn't go near one of those god forsaken nitrate bombs. So, I guess you could say it was karma for my carnivorous misdemeanor that the volleyball pole fell on my foot giving me a massive bruise and prompting many compliments on my fashion forward makeshift ice pack made from a Glad bag elegantly entwined around my ankle like the daintiest of gladiator sandals. Very McQueen.
Word of advice to my lady readers out there: Fake tans, much like fake nails, fake boobs and fake LV are always a bad idea. In preparation for my summertime debut, I caved and bought some bronzer so as not to blind innocent bystanders with the startling white of my casper like legs. So, I arrived at the park in all my freaky streaky Snooki like glory. And, try as I might, there really is no covering up that unmistakable smell. I should add, for those of you living under a rock, that Saturday was also the day of the Kentucky Derby. I have waited all my girlish little life to be invited to a Derby party (attempts at hosting my own never being successful). The day finally arrived, and lo, my giddy heart to finally be able to wear my big floppy sun hat and do my best Duchess of Cambridge! And then imagine, immediately ensuing, my massive disappointment when I realized that my fabulous hat -in a moment of what was no doubt once considered a stroke of genius- had been misplaced somewhere along the move and in in its place in the box wherein I believed my precious treasure was placed, were instead warm winter caps and fuzzy hats. Great. I can show up for my Derby debut in a fur lined Elmer Fudd hunting cap. It's only 94 degrees!
However, despite all the obstacles, we still had a grand old time! Life is what you make it, friends. And when life hands you limes you make yourself a good margarita.
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