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O Sole O Mio

I Choose ShoesI have shoe envy.

My body has crossed the line in two areas which I cannot ignore.  Bras are nearly impossible to find in my size, and shoes are now limited to sneakers and sandals, and damned few available of those.  The latter was rubbed in to extremes with my discovery of this site.  I salivate over pretty shoes and know with a reasonable certainty I’ll never be able to wear them again, not even if I lose a buttload (and a bellyload and so on) of weight.  My stiletto days are ovah, dahlink.  I’d be dead two steps out, if not from teetering to a colossal crash, then from the fact that when I go one way my knees often go the other.

Not that these examples are gorgeous as you’d traditionally think of beauty, but they are certainly interesting enough to make up for it!

Off the cuff stuff of the day:

I was awarded a Slinky at work today.

No, that isn’t a euphemism.  It’s the cheapie kids’ toy that takes stairs one at a time and grinds a silly jingle through your brain even forty years or so after it was first heard.  Kind of like the song that never ends, only it’s not only the song that keeps going in this case.

When my kids were growing up, and were invited to birthday parties for friends, I simply couldn’t afford to buy nice gifts.  It literally meant bills that didn’t get paid.  Since I could buy a Slinky toy for less than $2 at the time, I bought that rather than send them empty handed.  Trouble was I didn’t realize I sent slinky toys to the SAME child, year after year after year.  It’s only fitting that every time there is a silly prize offered at work and a Slinky is one of the options, guess who gets it?  If you ever doubt the existence of karma, remind me to show you my Slinky collection!

I saw the latest Lady GaGa (a name for which only three of those letters in her state surname apply) photos on the Internet today.  She chose to do her playboy spread real-time and without the liberal assistance of lighting and digital painting.  I’ll spare you the pictures because I figure porn is a matter of personal taste, and GAGa is woefully short on taste.  You know when Courtney Love disses you it’s bad.  It’s even worse when Courtney Love is classier than you are.  Love’s quote of the day: “She may be doing fine at the moment, but I’m worried about her future. She’s very young, and she’s very talented, but she doesn’t seem to have any female friends. Or any straight guy friends for that matter. Instead, she surrounds herself with this coterie of gay stylists and advisors who’ve turned her into this weird, sexless Barbie doll. I was raised by gay guys myself, and I turned out all right in the end. But you know, you can only pull off this meat-dress act for so long. If she doesn’t watch out she’ll turn into a lonely drag queen. Straight guys just aren’t in to that kind of thing.”

I never thought I’d say “Bravo” to Courtney Love.  Except I wish she wouldn’t insult drag queens that way.

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