Coke Talk of the Day

I almost have a home again.

At the tail end of last year, I sold all of my furniture, stuffed all of my worldly possessions into a seven foot storage cube, and turned over my lease. I knew I was gonna spend the first quarter of 2012 traveling around for work. I was done living where I was living, so I figured why the hell not?

I’ve been in a constant state of transition ever since. My life has been a flurry of hotel rooms and guest houses in LA, New York, and Vegas. For a hot minute I thought I might move to Malibu, but then a heavily tattooed man-child revealed his true nature and saved me from making a horrible decision.

Instead, I just scored a cozy little place up in the hills. It’s charming as fuck, and I’ll have my own pool this summer. I can’t wait. No more suitcases. No more travel sized bullshit. In a few days, I’ll have a real closet again. Hallelujah.

Of course, it occurred to me this afternoon that after losing my keys a few months ago, I have no way of unlocking my storage cube.

I’m surprisingly okay with that.

If you have burned a single calorie analyzing the teenage misdeeds or minor character flaws of Trayvon Martin in an effort to justify the homicide committed by George Zimmerman, then you are a small-minded, racist asshole guilty of the worst kind of victim blaming.

Neutral Gone Wild



Neutral Gone Wild

These sky high babies elongate your legs just like any nude pumps, but the textured cork finish adds depth and the pink contrast sole adds a refreshing pop. It’s like Ruthie Davis is smirking at Christian Louboutin. Fabulous.

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