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November Must-Have: The Biker Boot

Posted by on Nov 9, 2009 in Life and Style | 0 comments

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Jeffrey Campbell $165

As leaves fade and fall, fashion fancies go from bare to dare. Fall 2009 continues to be strapped with biker babe, classy sass, statement shoulders, chic camel, and metallic military magic. Aesthetically, think Ralph Lauren and Balmain meets Rag & Bone mixed with Alexander Wang…

November is the beginning of cooler weather, and the perfect time to rekindle some of our beloved relationships, something I am all too familiar with. Do not rid all your thoughts of the summer passed however, sport your shorts with tights, and pair it with this November’s Must-Have: a hot pair of biker boots. The last time fashion flirted with this trend was in the early and mid-90’s, when every woman wanted to feel fine and feisty. Seattle grungesters were effortlessly fabulous, while Chanel’istas were flawlessly fashioned with their $1,000 versions. Can you blame them? I think not.

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Steve Madden $160

If you started shopping for fall in August like me and my BFF’s did, you probably already got a taste of this fall’s delicious fashion seasonings. If you’ve been fretting about the economy, shoes and accessories should be the name of your game, and biker boots are a fierce way to sizzle up your wardrobe. I always love studs and spiky heels, which means they’re definitley not suitable for all-day wear; but, perfect for making a splash for a few important hours. Ahh the fond memories of a guy called Gerald, some over-conditioned casino in Vegas, and strawberry mint gelato…

Any which way you sway, you are bound to find a pair that strike your fancy; straps, buckles, flat or chunky, studded, suede, black or grey. Grab your little black dress, pair it with your new must-have fabulous footwear, throw on a little modern bling, and voila—you’re glamorous!

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Candela $429

Biker boots are your last kiss with fall 2009 fashion, so have some fun.

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Destiny

Posted by on Jul 20, 2006 in Life and Style | 0 comments

For the most part I really truly believe that you are the controller of your destiny. That even if there is this predetermined path you’re supposed to tread, in the end you always have a choice. Like if a psychic warned you about your impending death in a car accident, you could start refusing to get into cars, and thereby change that fate.

But this whole getting-married-to-Metal-Guy thing, which has turned into an ordeal, is starting to make me believe otherwise.

I have received so many signs that our marriage is doomed, but yet, I still want to do it. Everything from tarot cards, to number games, to flipping coins are all foretelling of a disastrous outcome to our union, but I refuse to change my mind and break it off.

This is making me believe that either I am hard core in love, retarded, or that there really is a greater power that controls everyone’s destiny. And regardless of how much warning you get, when it’s your destiny, you can’t do anything to change it.

Maybe if you could change your destiny it would fuck up the world too much. Like maybe I’m supposed to marry Metal Guy, not for the right reasons, but because we’ll eventually have a child that will change the world, and if we don’t get married and don’t have this child, the nations will crumble, the sky will fall, the oceans will dry up, anarchy will ensue, and the world will go up in flames.

So if we really all have a destiny, and we really have no control over it, then I guess we all just need to stop freaking so much, stop worrying so much, stop trying to predict our future, and start enjoying the fucking ride.

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I had sex with Metal Guy.

Posted by on May 18, 2005 in Life and Style | 0 comments

On our fourth date, we had sex.

He drove into town, and I picked him up at his parent’s house. We took a drive down the coast and stopped in for a drink and a snack at some restaurant where we shared a lounge chair and did a lot of kissing.

The sex was so passioante. It wasn’t fucking or just sex, it tore into my soul.

But Metal Guy lives in L.A. and I’m in San Diego for now. And he’s not financially stable. Although maybe all that doesn’t really matter.

I would like to think that two people that love each other and want to spend the rest of their lives together will overcome all obstacles. Do I know that we want to spend the rest of our lives together? No. But seriously he’s the most refreshing change that I’ve had in my life in a long time. He calls me, he emails me, we talk about things, everything, he doesn’t leave me hanging; no games. He’s affectionate, and in public. I’ve never been with a PDA guy. He’s sweet, sincere, and incredibly sexy.

There’s a part of me that’s scared of falling in love, only to have to let it all go in the end, because of one complication or another. But falling in love feels so good; I’d be a fool not to want to at least linger in it for a while. Like I did with Mr. Smyth. And yes, he broke my heart, but when it was good, there was nothing better. Nothing can replace the feeling of being in love.

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Bringing back the exes

Posted by on Aug 3, 2004 in Life and Style | 0 comments

What do you do when all you’ve met is freaks since you broke up with the last guy you were kind of dating…? You bring back the fucking exes.

It all started with a phone call to Christian, which went straight to voicemail, and his return call, which also went nowhere because at first I was in the car, driving to Vegas, with Ireland, and then I was in Vegas, so I didn’t pick up. He left me a voicemail saying he was about to jump on a plane; that he had to go out of town for a few weeks. Figures.

So what do I do when I get back from Vegas? I call The Ex. Maybe because when I got back from Vegas I went on cleaning rampage and stumbled across some old photos…and cards…yeah…you know how that goes.

We talked last night. It was cool. He’s doing well. I’m dong well. We shot the shit like we always do, and it quickly became after 11PM.

“It’s time for you to shower and sleep, isn’t it?”

“Actually I’m already in bed. Showered. And even masturbated.” I say this, with maybe just the right amount of hint in my voice, because this is how we used to talk, when we were fresh in love, before things got complicated.

There is a slight pause on the other end of the line, “Too bad you didn’t call earlier.”

“Why?” I ask, innocently, even though there is nothing innocent about me randomly calling The Ex.

“I could’ve helped you masturbate.” He says this in a lowered voice, as if he’s relaying some deep dark secret…

“Ooooohhh, hmmmm, wow, us having sex…that would be bad.”

“I didn’t say anything about sex, but that would be good.”

“That’s why it would be bad.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to fall in love with you again.”

I tell him I have to go.

I didn’t know if I wanted love from The Ex again, or even a random hook-up. It was good hearing his voice though.

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Mourning my new single life.

Posted by on Oct 6, 2003 in Life and Style | 0 comments

I’ve decided to call my new single life my mourning period. Oh yeah, that’s how excited I am about my new single life.

You know I totally get why things didn’t work out with Mr. Smyth, but it still sucks. Or maybe I was right last week when I concluded that perhaps I just suck at being single. Or maybe the real problem is that this time I don’t have someone like Ben to keep me distracted.

Why is it that for some reason if you have a hot piece of ass to distract you, all of a sudden the trauma of breaking up with someone miraculously disappears?

Where oh where is Dr. Bod when I need him, and why don’t I have a business trip to New York planned anytime soon?

Maybe I should call that beautiful 22 year-old boy I met in Tahoe a few months ago… Of course I deleted his phone number like a jack ass thinking that Mr. Smyth was going to surprise me for my birthday and we would live happily ever after.

I wonder if he’s missing me…I know he felt something. You can’t just tell me that he stuck around all these months because he didn’t have a warmer, wetter, tighter, pussy to stick his dick into. Getting laid is not hard, getting along with someone is, and me and Mr. Smyth got along.

I wonder if he ever let his mind wander enough to think about the potentional… I wonder what he’s doing right now while I’m sitting at home obsessing.

I can’t believe I’m obsessing.

Eligible bachelor distraction please knock on my door right now so I can fall back into all of my old habits and not learn anything from this whole experience.

Oh yeah, being single. Rock and roll. I need to call Jack.

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The Safety Blanket goes to Vegas.

Posted by on Apr 9, 2003 in Life and Style | 0 comments

I’m driving to Vegas. Luckily I have a conference in Vegas for a few days. Luckily I can get the fuck away from the Mr. Smyth situation. I hurt. I’m totally disappointed – again. But you know what – I’m over it. I’m fucking over him. He wants to be single – right on. He can have it.

He “likes” me. But just not enough. Not enough to be more than just…. just what? The re-bound girl? No, I’m not the re-bound girl. If I were the re-bound girl this would have all been wrapped up a few weeks ago when we had “the conversation”. That was his easy out. But if I’m not the re-bound girl, what am I? Am I the convenient lay? No, it’s not just a sex thing between us. We’ve hung out and not had sex and had a great time.

So if I’m not the re-bound girl, or the convenient lay…what am I?…. Holy shit. I’m the safety blanket.

He’s that guy. That guy that wants to be single, but truthfully is a relationship guy. He’s been in and out of relationships for nine years. Why? Because he likes being in relationships. So now he wants to be single, but it’s new territory for him, and he’s not completely comfortable with it; it kind of freaks him out. So he has me, his safety blanket. It’s always easy to be single when you know there’s one person out there that can give you a dose of “relationship” with the click of a few numbers.

Or maybe I’m the fucking love of his life and he’s too afraid to own up to it. Who knows.

All I know is that this whole thing fucking sucks. Even though I know exactly where he stands, it doesn’t change the way I feel for him. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m still totally hot for him. It doesn’t change the fact I get butterflies in my stomach every time I see him. But now I have to switch gears.

Can I switch gears? Can I have unemotional sex with Mr. Smyth? Am I strong enough to keep having sex with him? And others? And know that he’s having sex with other people too?

Fuck it. I don’t care anymore. I don’t care that he wants to be single, I don’t care that he doesn’t want to be exclusive. I don’t care. Things happen for a reason and maybe it’s OK that we’re not sexually exclusive. I’m having fun. I’m getting laid. I can date other people. I can fuck other people. I don’t have to report to anyone. I can do what I want, when I want, and with whomever I want to do it with. And I can do all of this without an ounce of guilt. There have been times in my life when I would have given anything to have this kind of an arrangement.

So you know what, I’m going to embrace it. I’m going to Vegas, and I’m not going to hold back this time. I’m not going to fucking care. And I’m not even going to call him when I get back. His ass can call me if he wants – and leave me a voicemail. And we’ll see. We’ll see if I even care when I get back.

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