In the meantime, electric Pop Tarts...

Sorry, y'all, my post-NOLA recap is taking a lot longer than I expected.  Probably because I haven't been working on it and instead chose to take another short vacation and start watching Supernatural from the beginning so you can see why that's more important than blogging. 

It's a glamorous life.

Replace the pickle with a Hot Pocket and it's like looking in a mirror.  

In the meantime, please enjoy these hawt pank landscapes by Chris Wainwright.  It's not quite like a beignet... more like an electric Pop Tart.

Mmhh... electric Pop Tart art...

via My Amp Goes to 11

I'll be back soon with travel stories and then we can talk about makeup.  

Because this is a Design blog.  

About Pop Tarts.

Would Kendrick Lamar like to dive into one of these?

If you live down South you know that we are experiencing one of nature's finest gifts right now: Spring.  This environmental phenomenon is actually a beautiful Trojan horse that brings with it the pollen plague which is straight from the pages of Revelations.  

Pollen, locusts, Amanda Bynes... shit's gettin' real, y'all.  And it's fucking disgusting.

Everything is coated in yellow including Charlemagne and the only thing more obnoxious than how dirty everything has become is the yellow-tinted snot that is coming out of people's orifices.

Even Charlemagne has one leaky eye.  Don't worry, she wipes it on the furniture because ew gross not even animals want snot running down their faces thanks cat.

So as I drove through yellow parking lots and tried to find the sun through the yellow haze, I've been having spiritually pornographic daydreams about the cleansing power of water.  A bath, some rain, a very large sprinkler hooked up to the Tennessee river...  anything.  

I'd even take a baptism by a bottle of Dasani with some holes poked in it should things get any worse.  But I'd rather have a dip in one of these:

here

Pool porn.  Just when you thought you were immune to the power of interiors porn, landscape architects grab you by the balls and remind you that your outsides are shitty and you better step up your game if you are to be a functioning member of society.

A few flagstone paths courtesy of a weekend DIY class at Home Depot ain't gonna cut it anymore.  Pinterest has moved on to this:

here

Gawddamn them.  Just for spite, I hope they are Left Behind like the rest of us heathens.  Spite is probably the kind of sin that'll make me Left Behind.  

Worth it.

here

I would also engage in many, MANY more sins if it means I could have a swimming hole like that one above with what I'm going to label a crude torii but someone please correct me.

here

Forget those boring McMansion pools, I want a pool that looks like Zeus himself sent down lightning bolts of landscape design and carved a crater out of granite just so I can soak in the fresh dew it collects.

here

here

Bet when you swim here you don't have to fight that horrible vacuum thingy that always tries to drown me.  Asshole.

here

Please no one say in the comments how dirty these pools would be without the vacuum and filter.  These are my explicit XXX fantasies of pool porn where there are no such things as the floating dead frogs you find in the morning or the bugs that always get stuck in my hair.

Oh... I guess *I'M* actually the filter here.

here

Worth it.

here

I'd even accept a swimming hole not created by Zeus in the middle of a rock paradise... perhaps the top of a skyscraper.  I don't know, I'm open.  As long as night swimming is involved I'll be fine.

Night swimming is one of my favorite things in the world right up there with mashed potatoes or someone playing with my hair or eating mashed potatoes while floating in a pool while someone plays with my hair.  (While hopefully getting out any dead bugs)

here (Sorry, just liking to the pins today. I'll be better in the future.)

However, swinging over the ocean might just eek out mashed potatoes.  It depends on how much cheese we're talking about though.

And after the terrible start to this week, I think I might like the simple, naive comfort of some mashed potatoes and just floating for a while.

Since all the pools are freezing and have so much pollen in them as to become a thick paste, actual floating seems out of the question.  So I've decided to indulge myself in a mini vacation to New Orleans this weekend.  Prepare for tales of beignets and voodoo next week.

Probably gonna get Left Behind for that too.

Worth it.

The additional skills section on my resume includes Microsoft Office Suite and exceptional laziness.

According to my exaggerated internet resume (the only one that ever counts) I'm a design blogger but I have failed you all because I never seem to do anything to my own house.  

Other bloggers make abstract art from all vegetable paints grown from their backyard garden and reupholster furniture with dirty socks but I'm still working through junk mail on my coffee table from February so let's just call that 'master tablescaper' on my resume.

So if you've been wondering why I'm blogging less it's because I've spent more time this Spring thinking about lipstick and The Walking Dead than what manner of DIY project I'm going to fail at for my resume.

If you don't count the massive amounts of laundry I did during the 7th Generation of Holy Hell weekend 3 weeks ago, the only home-related activity I've engaged in was a little tweak to my dining room.

That being I did some shooting at the range and added my target (In Hermezz orange?) to the right side of the China Cabinet of Curiosities and Shit.  I believe in balance when it comes to decor.  

And discipline and accuracy for proper firearm proficiency. 

I should probably put some art or sconces up there but the souvenirs from the shooting range are more fun and remind to keep practicing.  What have sconces ever done for you than helpfully illuminate a space and not scare your dinner guests?

But I didn't stop there.  I pushed forward with monumental changes the internet would love  like organizing my blankets in my linen closet.

It's a shopping disease.  I'm only one person with an animal that already comes with a permanent fur blanket but I have at least two dozen throws that I have arranged into chromatic families.  Somewhere Martha Stewart queefed a butterfly of happiness.

Is it a freezing winter night and you're drunk on cheap wine and haven't shaved your legs in 6 days and want to walk around in a cocoon of fleece?  I've got you covered. 

Is it dusk during a Spring rainshower and you need a gentle layer on your extremities?  Try these chenille spreads from my grandmother.

Going on a picnic? Need to look like an Anthropologie catalog spread? Choose which vintage quilt top goes with your olive tapenade.

Other bloggers probably only have one tasteful blanket they knitted from their shaved pubes but that doesn't really work with my next picnic theme.

I may not have fancy sconces but I have a linen closet that makes me swell full of fuzzy pride and dining room wall art that I have a sneaking suspicion Martha would approve of too.

So I apologize for being a bad design blogger but I'll never apologize for my badass hobbies and OCB.  

That's Obsessive Compulsive Blanketing.