|Life is better in flip flops. Unless you lose them in a bar.|
Of course, that plan only works if I don't lose my flip flops in a bar. Which I actually did on several occasions but only confessed to once in my book. Here's an excerpt from Confessions of a Paris Party Girl:
I walked home barefoot from a bar, having lost both flip flops in two separate incidents. Dirty from the dance floor, my feet were in embarrassing shape. Yet I miraculously arrived home with feet cleaner than I'd ever seen. The fresh rain combined with the abrasive sidewalks gave me a free French pedicure.
What's your favorite thing about summer? Flip flops? Frozen drinks? French pedicures?