Gold closed toe shoes : Gold ball locket.

Gold Closed Toe Shoes

gold closed toe shoes
    toe shoes
  • A pointe shoe is a type of shoe worn by ballet dancers when performing pointework. Pointe shoes developed from the desire for dancers to appear weightless and sylph-like and have evolved to enable dancers to dance on the tips of their toes (i.e., en pointe) for extended periods of time.
  • (of a business) Having ceased trading, esp. for a short period
  • (set theory) of an interval that contains both its endpoints
  • Not open
  • not open or affording passage or access; "the many closed streets made travel difficult"; "our neighbors peeped from behind closed curtains"
  • shut: not open; "the door slammed shut"
  • No longer under discussion or investigation; concluded
  • made from or covered with gold; "gold coins"; "the gold dome of the Capitol"; "the golden calf"; "gilded icons"
  • An alloy of this
  • A deep lustrous yellow or yellow-brown color
  • amber: a deep yellow color; "an amber light illuminated the room"; "he admired the gold of her hair"
  • A yellow precious metal, the chemical element of atomic number 79, valued esp. for use in jewelry and decoration, and to guarantee the value of currencies
  • coins made of gold

Walt's Ride (one of two)
Walt's Ride (one of two)
Mom told me to stay home because Uncle Bill was coming over with some big news. Uncle Bill never came over, he briefly dropped by, but never actually came in, not since Mom and Aunt Marianne stopped talking, but it wasn't a farce, Uncle Bill was on his way. Nervous as I was, the prospect of being handed down a few bucks elicited a much more poignant and noticeable feeling of joy. Uncle Bill was a rich man. He had his own booth at Musso & Franks, he was friends with all of Hollywood’s top dogs and most memorably, something I have always been envious of, he drove the nicest, most extravagant cars I had seen in real life or on the big screen. I was 17 and had been driving since 12, but I never had a car of my own. I was going to school across town now. Got kicked out of Milliken for fighting and when mom found out I'd been hitching over to Fairfax she nearly fainted. "Oh what kind of mother am I, subjecting my little boy to the rash of the road? What will the other mothers think of me?" It was always about her. I heard her on the phone with Aunt Marianne later in the day. After a few frustrated and spiteful words she demanded to speak with Bill. When bill got on the phone her tone changed. As a man, I knew he knew she wanted something, and I hoped for our sake he was gracious enough to give it. As always, times were tough, but we got by the best we could without dad. Mom had a few different callers and Jeff and I both held part time jobs. Uncle Bill provided us with breaks from time to time. Certain mornings we'd wake up and hanging in the mail slot would be an unmarked envelope that smelled like cigars. Mom would cry whenever she saw it and I would wiggle my toes around in my rotten old shoes, anxious for a new pair. Mom spoke softly into the phone, "He's a good boy Bill. He works hard and is kindhearted. If there's anything you could do for him, I know he'd be eternally grateful." Mom and Aunt Marianne were twins, and a stranger would have thought that Bill just had the hots for mom, but it wasn't the case. He more so had the desire to keep the family together, and with feuding sisters and no cousins to bridge the gap, he kept us in touch with his kind deeds. Time was passing excruciatingly slow. Bill worked over at Warner Brothers and didn't really have a set schedule. If he said he'd be by after work it could be ten in the morning or midnight. I felt trapped inside the house. No matter what, good bad or indifferent, if someone tells me to do something, I immediately want to do the opposite. It takes major internal coercion for me to be a team player, no matter how advantageous the game. Mom didn't drink. She swears she never has. Not even a sip. But every holiday people would send her bottles of wine. She kept them in a cabinet above the stove. I never touched the stuff. Tom and Jeff said that only queers drank it. But no one was around and now, I wasn't concerned with what they thought. More pressing was this block of time that was holding me in place like a vice. Red or white? I couldn't decide. White seemed too frilly. Not serious enough. Probably wouldn't even get me buzzed. I opted for red. I had to use a toolbox to get it open, spent the better part of an hour chiseling out the cork and when I finally poured it, cork-bits floating in it like wounded battle ships in a sea of blood, my hard work was rewarded by an unexpected sour and rotten taste. It must have gone bad I thought. It had been sitting up there for years. Surely no drink could intentionally taste this way. My heart raced as I remembered stories of men going blind from alcohol that had fermented to the point of poison. I rubbed them and things became a bit blurry. I blinked profusely and tried to focus on small objects across the room. A crack in the wall. The gold lettering on mom's dictionary, the country of Italy on the globe near the fireplace. After extensive evaluation of my sight, I concluded the wine was fine to drink. As awful as it was, as bad as it burned in my chest while going down, I took swigs of it, as big as I'd swig from a cold glass of water, and sat on the couch, slouching further into it with each tip of the bottle. I went through the first bottle pretty quick, the second went down much smoother. It was just grape juice. Nothing more. No wonder sissies fancied it. I finished off the second in another hour. I was floating now. My head sat atop my shoulders and would have flown away if it weren’t for my neck. My fucking neck. I laughed at it and strangled it and scratched at it sides, but then I apologized because I was just messing around. The globe looked pretty fun to spin. I wonder why we don't get dizzy when the world spins. Maybe there's little people on the globe that I can't see. I'm gunna spin them like the tilt-a-whirl spins me and hopefully they'll vomit too so I’m not alone. I’m so alone. No one is here. HELLO. Stupid echo. Don't scare me again, I'll kick your ass. Mom! Oh right, s
Day #311 - 6/14/08 - Solemates
Day #311 - 6/14/08 - Solemates
Confession: I've always been kinda pigeon-toed. When I was little I had a hard time running and walking because I was constantly tripping over my feet. I managed to train myself to walk 'normally' when I was in about the third grade because the tripping was unbearable and I didn't want to have metal leg braces to try to straighten out my legs and knees. But even today when I stand my knees and toes naturally point in, and I have no problem with that. So remember when I posted about wanting to sell all my handbags to buy gold Supra Skytops? Well I didn't win the eBay auction, so I had given up on my dream of ever owning awesome gold sneakers. While I was moping around about my $350 bid getting outbid at the last minute, Val promised me she'd find me a pair of gold sneakers one day. And today she surprised me with these! I think I like them even more than the Supras. They're much girlier and just ridiculous enough to make me happy every time I look at my feet. I'm in shoe-love. And love-love. Valerie is awesome. Also today Val, Heather and I went to Doug's sister's baby shower. Shopping for a gift for her kinda made me want babies. Baby showers always make me think about having babies, but I get scared that it's not really in the cards for me. I think I'm going to go see a psychic. My family that was visiting left today. Every time I see them I wonder if it's the last time I'll ever see em. My biological father pops in every six months or so, sometimes brings his wife, and my grandparents from the east coast even less. Before I saw my grandparents last year it had been around eight years since I'd seen then. I miss them. I wish I was closer to that side of my family. But at the same time I don't feel like they really like or accept me, so I don't really know how to feel. But life is good. I have a wonderful girlfriend, the best friends I could ever ask for and some gold sneakers. Yup.

gold closed toe shoes
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