Float yer boat

I've seriously been diggin' on some boat shoes lately. I'm gonna take a note from CCR and ask, "who stopped the rain?" 'cause I've been really itching to get into a pair of some cozy pac-boot style puddle stompers. My friend also decided to take a mob of people sailing on Christmas day, which could either be amazing or stupid cold. Either way, I'm having trouble deciding on the perfect pair of deck skips.



This delicious pair of chukka boots is just Nike Blazer enough to get away with as everyday winter wear. Band of Outsiders even did a little Sperry collabo for the mens this fall...sigh...until my feet grow to size 9, I'll be sporting something cheaper and a little more traditional.

Don't Let Me Down

Wow. So this is the frequency with which I blog now. My school semester is over, and two posts earlier, it had just begun. As I was leaving the student center yesterday, where I'd been cramming for my last couple exams, this guy sat down at the jangly practice piano and started jamming out a soulful, saloon rendition of "Don't Let Me Down". Way to play the soundtrack of my life, guy. That finance exam "done me good," alright. It's been a really weird year. But you knew that already.

CutePost!!

Coca-cola mini can!! I'm so excited! I hate how you have to guzzle the 12 oz can so your fizzies don't fall flat.

Salmon, Burnt Sienna, Dandelion, Periwinkle

This week was my first week of the Fall semester, and this semester marks my 10 bajillionth semester of college. This is a true story.

For so long, the prospect of a new semester incited in me great plans for the coming year. At least I thought they were great. These plans revolved mostly around who I would sit with at lunch - a matter that's taken pretty seriously well into high school. I showed up that first day of Kindergarten (after the crying and separation anxiety) freshly pressed and coiffed alongside other kids with hair parted and ponytailed and shirts tucked until recess. We eyed each others' cartoon lunch boxes.

College is no different. Just substitute "identity" for "lunch box" and you get the idea. After several bajillion years of this, it's just too much. I've spent enough on tuition and books. Is it too much to ask for an education without all the asserting of self and differentness and Socialist club meetings? I am a tired undergrad. Over the hill. Just give me my degree already and set me out to pasture.

So instead of buying the 64-pack of crayons and a new pencil box this year, I went with the $30 HP financial calculator, the $230 Management Information Systems Textbook bundle, two French review textbooks - $120 not sold separately, $150 in online texts, and several grand above my tuition to cover the coronary I'm gonna have when this is all over.

Dear Urban Outfitters...

I used to really appreciate your selection of goods; the pre-worn denim and artfully reconstructed thrift store clothes, the seemingly hand-picked wares from up-and-comers and staples like Fred Perry and Puma alike. I even didn't mind paying a couple bucks more for some of your t-shirts even though they were probably made in the same factory as those made for Forever 21 and Express. You guys cornered the market especially for us suburban kids who coveted the wardrobes of hip, urban youth - seen only in the style columns and our favorite blogs. But now, UO, you've gone too far. You are officially a novelty store for the bored and rich.


*this is called the "dirty mug" and you can buy it online for $12.00 +shipping.

Swoon

Signed, Sealed, Delivered

It's been a rough couple of weeks, my friends; too long a time full of things to do and too short a time in which to get them done. The last of these tasks is to finish packing for my big summer trip, which I am putting off to do yet something else I've been procrastinating. So consider this an overdue post. And on with the show...

First order of business (because I'm a business woman), and to quote Lil' Kim (because she knows What Girls Like)

You can call me a slut
Who gives a fuck
That's fine nigga shit
I'm a good with mine
I can tell by your shoes you know what I want
Fuck a prenup give me half up front
My sex be the best so we split these costs
You can stop saying mine
And start saying ours

Thank you, Ms. Jones, for charting a path through some seamy territory on behalf of the modern woman. For as much as girls like Kim do to push boundaries, the social structures in which we live dictate that a slut is still a slut and that a man who sleeps around is simply doing what God created him to do. It was that bitch Eve after all who tempted Adam with her profound and earthly delights, exiling them both from eternal happiness. Well, excuse me God, but if it is a sin to be Man's knowledge-seeking better half, then call me a sinner for wanting more. I won't go much further into my feelings on the offensiveness that is the creation myth, but I will say that it's wrong to feed a girl idealized notions of gender equality when men and women continue to inhabit such unequal social spheres. All's I'm sayin' is, if we're gonna pretend that we're playing fair in this game, let's also pretend to take some responsibility. Half up front. No more and no less.

and I'm out.