bend and snap!

               In order to obtain the perfection of the bend and snap combination, one must satisfy the tantalizing desires of those that are onlookers (main objective being FedEx carrier men). Firstly, it is best to be blonde. Bleach and striking resemblence to Barbie if possible -- if you are unfortunately mud-haired, then you'll just have to follow these steps with utmost caution and application to yourself. After combing one's tresses to utter perfection, strut your stuff down the street to the nearest nail bar. To strut, is to let your hips sachay from side to side and cross your ankles as you stroll (one would assume you're sporting heels) alright, now you've arrived. Open that door with vigor and let every girlfran' in the house know you are now here. French gel nails are going to be your preference, but this is only to pass the time until the clock strikes hunk; and your dream man enters the salon, khaki shorts ablazin'. While waiting, feel free to toss your hair over your shoulders from time to time, just to assert authortiy and female domination through intimidating the others because your hair glistens like the moonlight reflecting from Juliet's eyes. Alright. The time has come, the prey has now entered the mint coloured beauty parlour, doe-eyed and uncertain; ready for your attack. Oh no! Is that a pen of great significant value you've dropped and is now rolling across the marble floor? Of course, you're going to get up and scurry after it. Now, these steps are to be carefully followed. Reach the destination of the pen, and make sure that the apple of your eye is aware of your movements. Once observation is secured, commence. (Remember, there is a 98% chance of being successful in catching the man's attention, and an 80% chance if used properly for a returned dinner invitation). Extend one leg father than the other, keeping is straight (usually your dominant leg is the extended). The other leg may be bent lightly at the knee, remember, the objective of this is to draw attention to the lower backside, so feel free to place your hand on your lower back, just on the waistline on your jeans. Now, reach across with the opposite hand to your dominant leg, sliding your palm down your jeans and grasp delicately. Alright, now this has the bend under control. Now, move on to the deal sealer. All of your weight is to be transfered from your angle as of right now, to upwards. And make it perky, if this action is carried out in a slothlike manner, the goals attempted to be achieved will fall through, and that 80% chance mentioned earlier will drop to a miserable sixty. Quickly, draw your arms in (to the point where your wrist should be supporting the girls to a perkier position) and extend your torso. (Preferebly, 'lunge your chest'). This movement will allow both your chest to be exploited, and your hair to sway in an attractive manner.
Now, the only way to understand if you have successfully followed these steps, is to try it.

Enjoy your dinner.

The Ominous Crag

[I know Ms. Pederson was asking about this, so I thought just for additional security I'd put my descriptive place paragraph here.]

         


       Refugees seek salvation and shelter within mountains of strong rock and stone, shielding themselves from the harsh elements that drive them to hide. I however, seek sanctuary beneath a different type of crag. A mountainous region that rolls with goose feathers and bends to my very will, covering me from all outside forces. The easily manipulated, green stained duvet has comforted me for many years (see what I did there?) through times where it was no more than an oversized tissue, stained with mucus amongst the painted flowers and reeds; other times decorated with tears of dramatic emotional toil to add to the flow of the woven river.  Headrests of length have always been stacked for my liking, changeable with the covers though the white beneath has always remained diligent, only visible when I forget to put my sheets and covers in the dryer. My bed is a salvation that beckons to me only in times of inconvenience, and cocoons me in it’s venomous embrace only in the morning; other than that, it is cast aside, taunting me from against the wall, mocking it’s neglected state, knowing that time and time again, I will always come crawling back. And when I do; it is there and ready for me with an open mattress, softening the blows as an exhausted body drops heavily against it. My bed is my favourite place, for it is a stronghold against all elements. 

ZZzzzz

i have the feeling that a lot of people spend their time sleeping because nothing goes wrong like when they're awake. 

perpetia sole

I like shoes. I'm superficial, whatever. That's the point where my life changes. The way it carves the ankle, the little toe cleavage at the end (since I can't find any cleavage anywhere else, I'll rely on my feet) the height. Everybody knows that a little heel goes a long way. One outfit could completely alter to the point of one hundred percent by purchasing one new sole. The sole is an assertion of the soul. Everybody can see your shoes and remark oh how stunningly fabulous they are, and therefore are in a sense, an outward expression of that which many surpress. they're reliable too -- certain articles of clothing may point of a fact on the human frame that brings major displeasure to the wearer, and critisism from the chorus of observers. However, shoes are hardly such a hi-lighter to features, instead, are the perfect accent and balance. The worse a shoe can scold is leg length, and particular styles are not suitable for those of little height (aka. moi).
Personally, a purchase can be the turning point of optimism. Recently, while squandering about on a rainy day, I stepped out to buy a new pair of espadrilles which immediately ignited my passion and desire for Spring to come a lot sooner than in a month. (And we, as British Columbians are well aware that March is not the particular ignition of warmer weather, more like rain instead of threatening snow and slush). Scenarios began unfolding as to where and how these shoes would be worn, where they would skip, where they would trudge -- all beneath the warm glow of the sun.
So hurry up spring, I'm getting weary of boots and ponyhaired flats.
It's time to bring the cute on.

écrivanity

écrivain is writer in french. so, the blog's name is écrivanity. (spin on the vanity)