these boots

My godmom subscribes to the Australian tradition in which godparents are responsible for buying their godchildren a new pair of shoes every year.

Which means I'm heading home from a wholly nutritious and delicious weekend with my aunt, a.k.a. godmother, and her partner -- well-fed, -watered, loved good and long, and so. well. shod.

See above: Them's some shit kickin' trouble making that's what I'm gonna do boots.

Posting by cameraphone from the Minneapolis airport where my flight's been delayed by thunderstorms.

But I'm so sexy in these boots I hardly care.

;)

p.s. See "but mom, I look so HANDSOME!!" for a little bit more of what that's all about.

(Update: Had to salvage this post from orbit where it spun endlessly without ever going anywhere -- seems Flickr’s set a text limit and is rejecting all of my longer mobile posts. Dang it.)

baby needs a new pair of shoes

Shoes turn you into someone else. You can’t be a dominatrix in sneakers. If you are in a high heel, you are in pain, and you are going to make someone pay for it.

Natacha Moro, maker of custom fetish boots for the House of Harlot in London. From the September 2006 issue of National Geographic that I picked up in my doctor’s office while I was waiting to find out if I have *$#&@! Pneumonia again.[1]

Baby doesn’t need Pneumonia. What baby needs is a new pair of shoes.


The article goes on to quote William A. Rossi, podiatrist and author of The Sex Life of the Foot and Shoe:

The foot is an erotic organ and the shoe is its sexual covering. The shoe is the erotic foot’s pimp and procurer.

Like I said.


[1] Good news: it’s only viral. Now to bed. To dream of footwear.