Holy motha-effing bolts of fire. I have not blogged since early June, and the world has not fallen apart? What does this mean?! Is it possible that I am actually not the glue that holds together the viscous membrane of energeia to the inconsistent protoplasm of life? Can we just take five minutes and ponder the implications of that question, and the possible devastation caused by its' verification? My God...
Anywho, so this is blog needs be dedicated to Amy-Poo and Juh-zee-el, just because it is willed by a higher force. And to explain my absence, I will use a mix of shameless bragging and indiscernible lying. This summer I worked for University of Toronto (brap brap, throw a "w" to ma homies, what what) as an adult counselor, and yes. So, I was partying it up with international students, it was 3rd level phantasmagorical. Here's a lick of what it could've tasted like if you were there...
All the beautiful people. But now I am back at home, and it is as depressing as an elephants ass. But fret not, I will entertain you anyway. So, I noticed on one of my students and not to mention extremely lovely/sexy/sassaaaay friend Carmen a pair of flats that were adorable, and I almost spat my esophagus out when I found out that they were made by Crocs. So, I tippy-tappied on the lappy-toppy and found out that Crocs, it appears, has amped up its' game and began making shoes that do not make one want to fork out their eyes and dip them in acid.
The top pair is the one I saw in person, and they look great and are super comfortable. Who would have guessed that these are Crocs? Hell to the no.
So this was not as informative and fashionably-relative as I would have liked it to be, but I wanted to talk about Crocs dammit, and so I friggin' did. And you loved and cherished every word in this entry.
Okay, I gotta go pack for my trip to Barrie, toodles.
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