Let be honest here.
The idea of attending the opening week of the Venice Biennale can be pretty intimidating.
There’s the art of course.
And as if that weren’t enough, along with the art come throngs and throngs of people. Good-looking, well-dressed people. Most of them are Europeans for god’s sake, with their good health care, bicycling-to-work, and months-off-hiking-in-the-mountains lifestyles.
It was enough to make us want to stay home under our blankets eating Pringles.
But THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN WRONG, I TELL YOU WRONG! We were not about to rest on our considerable laurels when there was so much art to be seen and so many fabulous receptions to be attended!
We refused to let the scale (or time, or American health care) keep us from our rightful places frolicking with the well-healed and glamorous masses. No, we took control of the reigns of fabulousness, and dedicated ourselves in the weeks and months prior to our Venice pilgrimage to our task with our customary resolve.
We got rid of the bad skin!
And those rotten wrinkles!
We committed ourselves to various scientifically proven replenishing regimes!
We adorned ourselves with the most glorious embellishments!
We polished our pearly whites until they sparkled!
We got the most perfect highlights in our hair!
We ironed our seductive yellow attire and painted our digits to match!
And in one truly impressive case one of us actually did something of substance,
Losing SIXTY POUNDS in time for the trip!