CRACK!

OMG.



(Just call me TinkerBell, please.)

Crack at an Embassy Dinner

Went to a special embassy dinner Thursday evening at the National Press Club. The room was filled with people who all had the same first name: Excellency (what a neat coincidence!). I love to socialize and was in my element from beginning to end, with only one problem.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays I am ON CAMPUS. 'Professore' starts his class at 4 and so I am obligated to get out of bed at approximately 5:45 a.m. in order to be at my desk by 7. I leave the office at 3 p.m. and walk the approximate mile and a half to get ON CAMPUS. On Thursday evening, I idiotically chose to then walk to the National Press Club another mile away.

This shouldn't be a problem, only...I was wearing Not Really A Wedge Heel Crack Wedge. By the time I arrived at the dinner and was being pulled around the room to start sentences with "So GOOD to see you..." and end them with "I adore your jewelry...we really need to get together for lunch. And SOON!" I was ready to collapse. And I don't mean collapse a teeny tiny bit, but collapse in melodramatic fashion and take three or four Excellencies with me.

While seated at our table, I made the mistake of laying off the crack. I'M A GIRL WHO OFTEN-TIMES USES CRACK, HOW COULD I HAVE MADE SUCH A TACTICAL ERROR? Needless to say, my feet expanded at an alarming rate and when it came time for more socializing, taking a crack hit was more akin to being showered with shards of glass and rusted nails. BUT I DID IT, AND, I MANAGED TO SOCIALIZE FOR ANOTHER HOUR ON MY FEET. By the end of this hour, I was short-tempered, impatient and ill-mannered not giving a rat's ass what the next story or punch-line was going to be because I don't care about where you went to school or who you went to school with and Newfie jokes are so 80s anyway and WHY ARE YOU TALKING SO SLOW? I was staring at people and willing them with my super powered eyes to HURRY UP OR SHUT UP (because I can do that sort of thing). But Excellency would have none of it. At this point in the evening, I was hanging out with my ovary donour, mom, and kept trying to get her to leave. How did I do this? I kept poking her in the back while people were in mid-sentence. WHO CARES ABOUT THEM? my eyes screamed. She would have none of it, either.

After saying my last goodbye, I noticed that I was standing braced and against a chair leaning with my full weight on that chair. It took everything for me to actually move and perform the Cirque du Soleil acrobatic of walking. My mother told me it was inappropriate for me to use the chair as a walker. As she wrenched my hands free, I almost hit her.

As soon as I slipped out of the National Press Club of HELL, I went off the crack and walked around with naked feat. It was raining and it felt good. So good that I almost cried.

Some other notable points during the course of that evening:
- Among the people seated at our table were two Catholic priests, one of whom was in his 90s, the other a man whose known me since I was a wee thing no taller than two feet high on crack (me, not the Priest). I kept staring at the former because I was certain he would, sooner rather than later, fall asleep and never wake up. He didn't. Phew. I wanted to give him a big squeeze but feared he would break if I did. I kept myself in check and my hands behind my back.

The later Priest and I discussed the inner workings of Opus Dei (yes: the albino in Davinci) and the philosophical underpinnings and their natural extension to oppression. After positing my opinion of Opus Dei, I found out that his brother's an Opus Dei member. (Ooooh. Maybe they're the ones trying to break into my account?) I'll probably die "accidentally" for what I said; if I do, make certain to investigate, SVU style s'il vous plait.

- My father kept pulling me all over the Press Club to introduce me to people (I couldn't let MY FATHER THE FEMINIST in on the agony of my crack hit because he refers to crack as 'tools to oppress women and I don't understand why you feel you have to wear them, just look at how comfortable I am in my squeeky clean white cushioned running shoes never mind that I hardly walk anywhere and prefer to instead drive around in my luxury Mercedes and what were we talking about anyway?'). At one point, one man made the following "joke": And here I was thinking that (insert baba's name) was a lucky man to have such a beauty at his side! I thought he SCORED! HA HA HA! I SEE WHERE YOU GET YOUR LOOKS, AAAAAAHAHAHA! I threw up a little in my mouth, but managed to keep smiling. I offered the diplomatic response of: "Why in the HELL would I date someone OLD? Are you CRAZY OR JUST DRUNK?" only it sounded like: "hee hee, that's funny. You're sweet. I get my looks from my mom, dumb ass."

- At one point during a speech being given by His Excellency Something Or Other, some guy yelled out "VIVE LE PALESTINE LIBRE!" It stunned me and gave me the hiccups.

Photo Stream from past weeks

The bestest sox (a different kind of Crack) in the whole world


What I looked like on my birthday in 2007


...and what our really nice waiter brought out for us in celebration of said birthday


Thank you, Ms. Klein




Thank you, Mr. Aldo




This is one of my Secret Books...


...where I tuck away my secret gardens






...that hide my angels




...and prettiest girls


...and where you'll also find my Crack designs




On the 19th of this month, we went to a retreat at Meech Lake, where this was my view




...and where at break, I sat and watched it rain from here

A Flip-Book (the closest I'll get to You-Tube)

We went out this evening and before heading out, S and I fooled around with my mobile camera. I'm not allowed to post her photos on here, and so instead all you'll be getting is me.

Check out how cool her following shots are; if you were to string them together, you could flip through them and watch me laugh in real time but without the sound effects which are the best part of my laugh because I sound like a braying donkey.

The potential flip-book nature of these photos is the most exciting thing to happen in a very long time. So sad is my life.













S has an affinity for 'up close and personal' shots and so if you're interested in playing connect the dots with the pores on my face you can find the entire set of shots here. Here you will find more shots of me cross-eyed.

OMG! Also make certain to peek at my awesome clutch (thank you Baby J):



(The inside's satin!)

and then check out the lines on my new Crack:


There's no denying the art deco influence on the heel. It took me a moment longer than usual to decide on the purchase but that's only because I was a little discombobulated by their low nature and their hippie front braid. But I love them now. (Thanks to S for helping me pick them out.)

Cellist in crack, laughing with Baby J & Waldo

.1. I’m terribly excited about this and have kept it a secret for a little because am nervous. I start my cello lessons in January! I spoke about this around a year and a half ago and have finally committed to finding out if I am tone deaf. My heart beats a little faster every time I think of how much fun this is going to be.

The cello is my favourite instrument because it is the one instrument that jives 100% with crack. Speaking of which, I just purchased some more:



(Imagine these babies wrapped around a cello!)

.2. Today, someone posed the following hypothetical Q: 'What do you need to do to make sure everything's finished with a contract?'
…to which I responded: 'Get rid of the incriminating evidence'.

No one laughed as hard as I did.

.3. When we say
“I really want to see him/her/undecidedOne”
we really mean
“I really want him/her/undecidedOne to see me and to think fond thoughts of me and to comment on how lovely my crack is.”

Being such egomaniacs is what makes us interesting, and I hate Ayn Rand.

.4. Out of familial obligation, Baby J was recently stuck dealing with a different kind of Boy, the kind that says “I’m sure you’re seeing a lot of other guys, ha ha ha” and leaving a message, only to call back a little later to ask “did you get my message? Did you like my message?”

For the love of God, man, don’t you know the least attractive quality in a man is neediness? (I’m sure it’s not that attractive on a woman, either.)

Baby J is one of the most fiercely independent women I know. At the sight of her, you understand that like me, she’s an Alpha, and female Alphas need their men to be Alphas, or else it’s quite nearly impossible for us to be attracted to them. We like men who take charge and are focused, the last thing they need being our validation.

But she’ll do her thing and eventually this will go away.

Her life is changing at the moment and I’m excited for her because she’s made a rather impressive and critical life-altering decision and one which will bring me many Hello Kitty items, the list of which I am already compiling. I have absolutely no doubt that she’ll completely excel at all that’s to come.

.5. Two honourable mentions.

I sent this email out:
ATTENTION!
ALIENS ARE COMING TO ABDUCT ALL THE GOOD LOOKING AND SEXY PEOPLE.
YOU WILL BE SAFE, I'M JUST EMAILING TO SAY GOODBYE.

Baby J responded with:
“This message has been automatically generated by the aliens that also abducted Baby Jane. We will return her to your planet as soon as we figure out how to clone her so that we may have an entire race, inspired by her beauty.

Please do not reply to this message.”

& Waldo came back with:
“ha ha...oh my god, they're here!!!! see you on the other side!”

Is it any wonder that I’m in love with my girlfriends?

Crack

In Gerry Butler Would Have Done Well to Carry Elastoplast(s) In His Purse, I made mention of how I recently purchased three pairs of shoes simultaneously. I promised to post the photos and so here they are. Shoes to me are like crack to Whitney Houston. I hope your high is equivalent to my own.

Crack hit no 1: The Glitter Flat Crack
LOOK AT HOW THEY GLITTER! I can't stop staring at my feet when I'm in these shoes. I keep swirling and twirling my feet around because the glitter catches the light and GLITTERS EVEN HARDER. It's exciting, a little nauseating and may be cause for seizures, but unshaken, I continue to force others to stare at my shoes and "see how they glitter".





A bigger hit of Glitter Crack can be found here.

Crack hit no 2: Stiletto Crack Cocaine
They're nearly 5" high. I don't think I need to say anything else. Arguably, in these babies, I don't think I need to wear much of anything else, either.







Crack cocaine to fill your screen.

Crack hit no 3: Not Really a Wedge Heel Crack Wedge
I've been known to have violent reactions to the wedge heel. The gem of a crack hit pictured below is clever because the wedge heel is so thin, I can deny that it's a wedge heel. Not really, but this is my blog and I can be as ignorant creative as I want.







Up close and personal with Not Really a Wedge.