gooodbye, ruby shoesdays

this post is a farewell to two pairs of beautiful, vintage, sherwood forest mall goodwill shoes that i scored last spring. since then, i have worn them a total of zero times because they don't even remotely fit me. i get excited when i find such pretties! even when i know i can't wear them. i will be donating them soon to someone with smaller feet than me.

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three pictures and an excuse

so posting has been slow, i know. school is kicking my ass right now, and i have an overwhelming amount of work to do. i have no idea when posting will resume to some kind of schedule (although rest assured, i have lots of outfits to photograph!) so in the meantime, here are a few pictures i took with our new canon rebel xsi with a 50mm f1.8. i am still learning how to use it, but luckily, the other half seems to magically know a whole lot about cameras.

yeah, sports! i remember when the jays were more awesomer. i was a wee lass.

my yellow jeans and some ridiculous bling. i have gotten many compliments on this here bling. the girl at the store gave me a look for buying it, but i knew, i knew it was great.

hiiiiiiiiiiii. everyone can see my bluenotes graphic tee! oooooh nooooooes. pretend you didn't see!

i swear to god guys, i haven't been listening to the new Ke......$.....ha album but if you could stop being a little bitch with your chit chat, and show me where your dick's at, that'd be greeeeeeeeeeat.
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the post-bar ensemble

it's the same as the bar ensemble, except comfier pants and messier hair.

$3 sambuca shots & $10 pitchers at a bar at College/Spadina we think was called John's Restaurant, but did not have any signage. the only other customer drank two pitchers to himself while he wrote furiously in a notebook. the musical ambiance was provided by an unnamed guitar duo who, among other things, played a slow-tempo version of Sublime's Santeria. in between sets they threw on a Gypsy Kings cd.

next was Supermarket which was just fine because at that point i couldn't have cared less where we were, as long as it was inside. goddamn it's been cold. much less eventful and i def wasn't dressed for it. my oversized sweater was just fine for John's Restaurant but maybe not for kensington. oh, i asked the bartender for a rye&coke and i got a rye&ginger. which was fine. but incorrect! i almost took a grey toque with a pom-pom off the floor but this friend i have stopped me. i hope it was found by its true owner, or else i'll be pissed.


everybody (yeeeah) rock yo' body

internet, i am about to not post any pictures of myself in various items of clothing, and instead have a little chat with you about some real shit.

okay not that real.

this has nothing to do with taxation or climate change or james cameron's avatar. this has to do with sexy and my completed untested and incredibly personal theories about sexyness. of ladeez.

here is exhibit a)

this is a fairly famous picture of megan fox, generally considered one of the sexiest female celebrities on the earth. am i the only one who is fucking terrified of her stomach? its gross and was created by a computer.

exhibit b)

this is what megan fox really looks like. she's not orange. her stomach, while tight as shit, doesn't belong to an alien. she's got some kinda cute muffin top going on cause of that weird nude bathing suit thing. she probably weighs more than eight pounds. in this picture, she looks way more like someone you have probably slept with before, if you sleep with women.

either way, meh. but i may be a little jealous, so don't listen to me.

basically, i know what a photoshopped naked woman looks like, and i am beginning to suspect that only people that really find them attractive are 12 year olds and closeted gays. okay i know that's not true but that's the lie i tell myself to make it through the day. it doesn't take much effort to imagine what megan fox's tits would look like in the first picture, if you took off that bra. they would look fake, and nothing like they do in that second picture. although her tits might actually be fake, i don't know, i am not an expert.

but sexyness=mystery. when i see a girl with her clothes on, i shouldn't be able to instantly know what she looks like naked. that's the whole fun of clothes, deciding how to hide or flaunt your body. i don't find airbrushed, photoshopped women attractive, not because its like the rules of feminism!, but because THERE IS NO MYSTERY. and also, because it's boring.

so i guess this is exhibt c)

V magazine had a fucking phenomenal shoot recently with plus sized models.

here is model Tara Lynn, whose name you may or may not want to google because i think it's more common among porn actresses. see, this bitch is naked, but i still wanna roll her over and figure her out. there is nothing boring about alla that.

and even if you weren't that guy from summer catch, who liked big women (and i'm pretty they liked him, also) there if something to be said for imperfection. a template is not a work of art.

but thank fucking god there is a template so that we all have something to rebel against. i pretty much already forget everything i learned in my undergrad degree but i remember something about the marquis de sade going on about how you need sexual norms and repression to tell you what is kinky: that's what makes kinky, fun.

yes i studied that shit in undergrad: WHAT. i'm sorry if y'all didn't seek out classes with 'sex' in the title.

so basically, imma thank kates playground for making quinne suicide such a babe. (both links are pretty much SFW)

i'd hit either one. and then?