One doesn't have to read The Darlings of Orange County during the summertime, but it's certainly the best time to do so! Author Jennifer Susannah Devore, best-known for her Savannah of Williamsburg historical-fiction series, waded deep into the skanky end of the pool for this bikini-and-martini novel. She tried something different, stretching far out of her comfort zone.

Drawing on inspiration from, among myriad, other sources, Arrested Development, 30 Rock and Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic series, Jennifer S. Devore has crafted a seedy, surfy, silliy, sandy and sexy Orange County: a gauche glimpse into the O.C.'s (Don't call it that.) nipped, tucked and royally %ucked underbelly. If you think Bravo's The Real Housewives of Orange County is a tacky, cautionary tale, take note. The Darlings of Orange County is your best How Not to Succeed in Entertainment guide. Perfect for reading poolside with a frosty Tequila Sunrise, or on the beach with a classy, cranberry can of Sofia by Coppola Blanc De Blancs wine.

J'adore la pluie! I once travelled to Scotland with a pal over the summer, in part, to escape the SoCal heat, only to be to greeted with a heatwave across the U.K. I also enjoyed a very happy, rain-soaked summer in Vieux Quebec, thrilled to be out of 90-degree weather for the horrid month of August. (You know what they say about Paris in August? Only tourists and the infirm remain. So it should be with SoCal.)

Yes, I love and appreciate our blue skies and California sunshine, which is truly its own beast; there is no light like California-light, except maybe that basking over the South of France. 'Tis true though, I have yet to see a sea as turquoise as that of Nice and Cannes. Quelle belle mer!

To wit, these are the days I cherish most (and I tend to cherish most everyday), the days I miss most from our Virginia-sojourn. In a place that is more Palm Beach than Seattle, I welcome the odd day of thunderstorms and black skies, despite the horror reported to us by local news stations' StormTracker Weathergirls. (I know, this is not a p.c.-term. I don't care. I like the term Weathergirl; it's cute and sometimes totally accurate: like "stripper" over "exotic dancer" and "Teleprompter Jockey" over "broadcast journalist". That one's especially fun.)

Standing in line at a Carlsbad Starbucks this morning, happily awaiting my turn to order my Pumpkin Spice and Soy Americano with Whipped Cream - insert Homer Simpson donut drools here - , I couldn't help but eavesdrop on the chick in front of me and the counter girl. (Yeah, probably not p.c. either.)

Sbux Gal: Good morning! How are you enjoying this weather?

Obtuse-chick: Ohmygaaaad. I haaaate it. It makes me so depressed. When it's like this, I like to stay indoors, close all the windows, turn on some cheerful summertime music and watch travel videos of Hawai'i until the sun comes out. It's soooo gross today.

I imagine if one is in one's third month of a grey world in Baudette, Wisconsin or Grimsby, Ontario one might drift toward the sunnier-based episodes of Three Sheets. Admittedly, after two months or more of snow and dove-grey skies in Virginia, I tended to watch way more Rick Steves on the Mediterranean than is healthy. (Don't get me wrong, I love Rick Steves ... his travel tips just bug me sometimes. Please, see my very first posting ever here to see just how much.) Yet, when San Diego gets about thirteen days of rain total per annum, well, fret not, Chica. Put away the razor blades and be patient. In just about fourteen hours it shall be bright and sunny again and you won't have to pull the shades for another month or two.

The added bonus of days like this? I get to go play outside and splash in puddles in my best Frye boots and all without a single dollop of sunscreen!!! Mon Dieu, it gets to be a hassle. Nevertheless, with Dita Von Teese and Rose McGowan as my vampire-guides, I march valiantly into the oncoming decades certain I shall not be mistaken for one of The Real Lizard Women of Orange County or the reptile chicks from that old, '80s Sci-fi show V.