The Young and the Cynical: Miu-izzlin' in 2012

Maybe it's because all I've been doing the past week is watching terrible, TERRIBLE excuses for movies (rom coms) sobbing into a tub of ice cream (low fat soy, I'm not a complete monster) about how I'm never going to get married because, let's face it, no one can deal with this much crazy. I jest guys, I'm a complete catch. Too much of a catch in fact, which is why I am currently, get ready for it, single. Pick your jaws off the ground, people, It's not that far fetched. Some just find that this much woman is too much. So, as I've been stuck at home recovering from the evil operation that has plagued my life the past 2 weeks, I've been making myself feel better by dressing up in pouffy sleeved frocks, white and pink, high pony tails and jewels. Many jewels. So many jewels. ACRES of jewels. Maybe not that many jewels. Some traditional and some perhaps not so (are rope necklaces a classic yet?). I feel like a damsel in distress awaiting her knight in shining armour. But as that cliche makes me want to vomit tulle underskirt onto the screen and my knight would obviously be wearing an Armani suit not armour (HAHA Funny designer oriented lol right there.) I will rethink this. I'm actually waiting until my throat has healed before I'm able to re-attack Sydney and get my minx on, perhaps not finding myself an appropriate husband but definitely someone to keep me.. occupied.. on one of these balmy summer nights.

Smut! You people are disgusting. I was merely suggesting a raucous round of scrabble, you know how I like me a play on words, and perhaps some cluedo. Good lord, I'm a lady. And on the topic (sometimes I try to keep on topic) of ladies I bring ya'll Miu Miu 2012.

Firstly: this guy gets it. This is what I'm talking about (what the hell am I talking about). Miu Miu has brought us what Prada started in 2011. Diamond vom. The truly fabulous clash of modern kitsch (lighting bolt earrings? Ah yus) with ultra fem and traditionale. Lace gloves? And Pearls? AND BLINGIN' BOWS? I hate bows. I hate bows with such a passion. But I am made, as fashion always does, to eat my words. Now every time I see a petiteley tied ribbon in a young girls hair I won't feel the need to rip it out, stamp on it and spit on her shoes. No, that 12 year old will go unscathed another day. Instead I'll link her arm, and skip into a field of daisies and ponies while she cries in fear because she doesn't know who the frick I am. That's just how I do. This year I am feeling it guys. I'm feeling pretty. I'm feeling flirty. I'm feeling a little bit kitsch. I'm gonna mix in the bling and the bows and the pearls and fuck it man I'm throwing in some lace for the first time since I was 15. This shit is happening AND I'M SO DAMN EXCITED. Who needs a husband when you can be having this much femmy fun and promiscuous sex.

Did I really just say that.. fuck it no one reads this shit anyway.