Shoes are sexy. I love sexy things. Ergo, I love shoes.

I especially love red shoes. I couldn’t decide which ones to bring to Dallas, but here is what I ended up packing.

I especially love this pair of Lulu Guiness pumps. They have hearts and diamonds on them. I’ve worn them once. Sometimes I just take them out and pet them. They’re so pretty.

I understand the need for comfort shoes, I really do. But tell me, what if Madonna was wearing black clogs in this picture? That wouldn’t be sexy.

And here is a picture of one of my favorite icons, Bettie Page. Just picture her in flip-flops. I mean, who can wield a whip in flip-flops?

And so I leave you with this poem by Liam Rector

Under The Spell Of Shoe

I’ve made a point, over the years, perhaps even a moral point,
Of never having sex with any of the wives of my best men friends.
The closest I came

Was once when I was living alone, house-sitting a Jamesian
House in Chevy Chase, and one of my best friends and his wife
Were spending the weekend

And they went up to bed. The woman left her pair of shoes on
The floor, on the rug, and I was quite stoned, and I wandered over
And picked up

One of the shoes, and I held the shoe, and, staring deeply into what
I took to be the essence of my friend’s wife as she embodied the shoe
And the shoe embodied her,

I imagined her and me fucking each other senseless. It was
Great, and it did no real nor lasting damage to the marriage,
As far as I could tell.

I’ve been cruising down memory lane lately. One day while searching through photographs at some site (yeah yeah really killing time vs. writing, I know), I found this awesome print that took me right back…

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You know one of the things we have pounded into our heads as published writers is PROMO PROMO PROMO. And it’s really really hard to come up with something original. It’s like coming up with a new story idea, it’s all been done, somehow, some way. So here’s what I”m going to do.
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I know to some women it is the ultimate treasure hunt, the ultimate discovery. Over the years Sex and the City and Cosmo certainly added to this hype. Finding the perfect, sexy heel. No matter the price or designer. And sometimes people are willing to drop 4 figures for a pair! (I’ve never joined that club, 3 figures gives me enough buyer regret!) 

Well, I’m here to say I’m not playing anymore. That’s right. I just can’t do it. I will no long wear sexy heels that look way better on Barbie, than on me.

Maybe it’s because I’ve gained too much weight, maybe it’s because I’ve hit the big 3-0, maybe it’s because I have a kid and I just don’t care, but I’m here to say I’m done. I’m done trying to torture my feet into foot fetish level of sexy shoes. I mean just look at that pic, sure it’s sexy. And I’m sure some men and woman truly get off on that kind of thing. But I look at that and think…Oh. My. God. The pain! The horror! My feet literally throb!

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Okay, this is hilarious…and we totally stole it from Divas of the Dark!

So I’ve had a super sucky week. I mean it was the suckiest of the sucky. It couldn’t have sucked more if I was an intern and the president was visiting. (I’m Emma Petersen by the way. I’m the first Paranormal chick to come and visit NAS. *waves*)

So I did what I usually do when I’m feeling sucktastic. I pulled out my mp3 player and started to listen to my favorite songs. When Lit’s (mmmm A. Jay Popoff) My Own Worst Enemy came on, it hit me.

It’s no surprise to me
I am my own worst enemy
‘Cause every now and then I kick the living shit out of me
Can we forget about the things I said
when I was drunk
I didn’t mean to call you that

This is totally me. I mean not the drunk part or the name calling part but the kicking the living shit out of myself part.

Are you your own worst enemy? Do you not stop to celebrate your accomplishments? But push yourself on, harder and faster? More! More! More! (Hush up nasties! I’m not talking about that!)

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Can men and women just be friends?

Some girls and I were discussing this talk at dinner last night. I know it’s an old question, and one that never seems to be answered, but I’m still wondering. My girlfriend thinks that any man who approaches a woman is only after one thing, and I’m sure you can guess what that is. However, I really don’t think enough of myself to assume that every guy who talks to me is wanting to get a peak at my naughty bits. I mean, I know my cleavage is something to behold, but isn’t it at all possible that I’m also a fascinating conversationalist?

I was on a flight recently. It was delayed. Some guy next to me struck up a conversation. The guy showed me pics of his wife and kids. My friends all said he was full of shit and was really just a psycho with a master plan to stalk me. WTF? Am I that naïve or is everyone else jaded?

Tell me your opinion: can men and women just be friends?