Hey hai happy humpday ladies and gentlekids! Now please, for the love of cripes, chill.
I did not delete my blog (okay, I did, but not on purpose or for very long) I am not lying in bed just like Brian Wilson did (see?) and like, thank you white knights for your “IS EVERYHING OKAY?!” messages but I do not need your *hugz* or “to talk?”
I’ve simply been busy… and perhaps a little bit too forthcoming with the emo-stagrams?
COME ON, IT’S ENDLESS WINTER! You’re depressed too.
In all seriousness though, I’m good.
Work is awesome awesome awesome, my comedy stuff is progressing nicely, and sheet, I’ll be darned if the exhaustion of Lau is not the evolution of Lauren as well.
In fact, I have some exciting (for me) news to share on that front…
UNF! Right? Such a sick video.
Also grand? This image I found on Reddit the other day called “1993″ vs “2003″ :
This white-nosed black squirrel I found in a bush on King St. yesterday (!!!) :
Annnnnd Anthony Jeselnik, Daniel Tosh (it’s Tuesday) and pretty much everything I Tumbled last night.
But I digress.
Here’s what’s up: just over one week ago today, I signed the lease on a brand new pad — My first real grownup apartment. No roomies, no parents, no boyfriend, just me. BOOYAH / Holy f–k.
As cool as that is, it’s scary too. I’m stressed out about moving my stuff again, kind of nervous about being responsible enough to manage my own householdish, and still very much dealing with the circumstances surrounding this move — but I’m also stoked as heck to be in a place where I can finally afford my own apartment in downtown Toronto.
I’d always kind of assumed that as a young journalist I’d have to sell at least 50 3D-printed kidneys on the black market BEFORE I could spend money on things like… lamps and tables for lamps to go on… so this is a big thing for me.
Leaving Liberty Village was a very conscious decision – one that was bittersweet.
I loved this neighbourhood when I first moved into it a few years ago, but the deluge of new condos has made it feel like even less a part of the city than it was before, which is shocking considering how closed off it already is. There’s so little culture here too that the vibe feels almost… suburban.
My building has become choked out by new condos around it, overcrowded with obnoxious yuppies and uh, bye bye awesome view.
Judge for yourself. The rest of Toronto did, and I’m not just being a hipster. Liberty Village has changed — and in this girl’s opinion, not for the better. I will miss my crystal castle, but I’m happy about where I’m headed too (also downtown west.)
You’ll see tons of “LOOK AT MY NEW LAMP” photos once I actually move in a few weeks, but for now I’d like to reflect upon the apartment hunting process itself — because if there’s anything more hilariously frustrating than trying to find a second dancing James Brown doll to lampify, it’s trying to find a nice yet affordable 1 bedroom place to rent in a cool neighbourhood in the heart of Canada’s largest city.
Spoiler alert: I worked really effing hard.
(To be continued…)
Whereas Shark = Google Nose then yes, but only on the Internet, and only in relation to tech juggernauts and marketing departments.
Be it resolved that the latest casualty in the mainstreamification of internet culture is April Fools Day as we’ve known it since the dawn of time — or at least the late 1980s. I wasn’t fully cognizant before that time, so I can’t really say for sure.
I remember the first grand-scale April Fool’s prank I pulled on my own like it was 15 years ago, because it was.
I was in Grade 6 and, for whatever reason, I decided to trick my friend Kate into thinking that some kid was holed up in her preferred bathroom stall at our elementary school — ALL DAY LONG.
Using a pair of my little brother’s dress pants, some running shoes from the lost & found, the socks off my very own feet and a crump-load of newspaper sheets, I constructed the lower half of what I fooled everybody into thinking was some unfortunate 5th grader who wouldn’t come out of the bathroom.
It worked like a charm to the point that a concerned teacher went in to coax that poor little dear out and of the stall I had to fess up. Kate was livid, the rest of my class was like “High fives, weirdo” and I was all:
Since then, I’ve successfully tricked, trolled and freaked the heck out of more people than I can count. Only a fraction of these pranks actually took place on April the 1st (I just really like pranks – it’s an O’Neil thing, I’m told) but when they DO fall on April Fool’s Day, there’s an added layer of lulziness to it all.
“YOU ACTUALLY BELIEVED THAT I DIED MY HAIR BROWN! APRIL FOOL’S! BWHAHAHA”
I’m not going to say that the internet killed the spirit of April Fool’s Day — quite the contrary.
Communities like Reddit and 4Chan and even Yahoo! Answers foster that spirit all year round, going above and beyond to bring us prankspiration for the big day itself.
I wholeheartedly approve of prank idea and knowledge sharing. This is how we grow as a species. Heck, where do you think I got the fake bathroom legs idea from? Metafilter circa 1996, thankyouverymuch.
I’m not going to kvetch about news organizations running fake stories or websites switching around their layouts either, since these things have been going on for decades if not centuries (the former, anyway) and are generally pretty cute.
The BBC’s Swiss Spaghetti harvest of 1957, anybody? You click through to that link for the history of that one if you like — I’m going to post a picture of Mike Tyson’s April Fool’s Tweet from yesterday instead, because I’m a jerk who likes to laugh at people. WE ARE ALL JERKS WHO LIKE TO LAUGH AT PEOPLE… right?
A good April Fool’s Day prank is clever, creative and unexpected. It actually trickspeople — a lot of people — leaving them feeling sheepish, maybe, but laughing in awe.
A good April Fool’s joke doesn’t come out of your marketing budget, and it doesn’t have campaign codes seeded throughout it to track click-through rates. Like, ew. That’s not what this holiday is ABOOT. This is:
I can’t be the only one who’s been left with an icky taste in her mouth over the past couple of years come April Fool’s Day.
It’s not that I’m above brands trying to capitalize on holidays — I mean, that’s business — but it irks me that EVERY SINGLE TECH COMPANY does it at once, to the point that news outlets have actually have people people live-blogging April Fool’s Campaigns as they roll out.
April Fool’s Day isn’t Valentine’s Day. It’s supposed to creep up on us and catch us unawares, like Bananas in Pajamas.
I mean, does it even count as an April Fool’s Joke when you send out press releases to let bloggers know about your “prank” ahead of time?
All of Google’s “pranks” made me feel embarrassed for them (does YouTube count as Google? That was the worst one) and I’m not alone.
Let me tell you, it’s not easy to trick your coworkers into believing you’ve legally changed your name to Lauren Targaryen after they’ve already seen Mashable’s roundup of April Fool’s Day pranks so far at 1:10 a.m. on FlipBoard.
But hey, I get it, everybody wants to get in on the buzz because these days EVERYBODY DOES SOMETHING FOR APRIL FOOL’S.
Seriously though, if I didn’t genuinely love cats, the internet would have me HATING EFFING CATS by now Marketers ruin everything. They bear the slimy touch of dork. Don’t let your culture get corrupted, friends (said the blogger, like anyone can prevent that from happening.)
P.S. Sony, DEADMAU5 DID THAT CAT HEADPHONE THING FOR REAL IN AUGUST. For Charity. Gah.
If I sound like a stupid internet hipster / hater, it’s because I actually am lately when it comes to this stuff.It’s insulting to our intelligence. Is the viral web the new boob tube or something? Has the intellect of the average netizen dropped so low that it’s worth the money spent by alllll of these brands to get do stuff like this?
The fake announcement gags worked well for Burger King with their Left Handed Whopper in 1998 and the Taco “Liberty” Bell in 1996 precisely because they were unique and relatively unexpected and a little bit believable. More so than say, anything Google did this year.
Peep this though, from Jose Canseco. Brilly.
I’ll conclude by saying this: I adore the spirit of April Fool’s Day at its core, and when companies are truly clever and play the game well (see: Netflix, Soundcloud, Digg) I love them all the more for it.
For those who can’t muster up the cleverness, stay away from the holiday — for your good, and ours. Don’t throw money at it. Don’t get interns to spew out memes and buzzwords at your. Just frig off and leave Internet April Fool’s Day to do what it does best in the marketing space — which is, of course, to serve as a soft launch for new Think Geek products.
I totally want that Eye of Sauron desk lamp.
Love always, Emo O’Nizzle, absentee blogger and insomniac apartment hunter extraordinaire.
P.S. I pranked my parents by hiding potatoes all over the house this year, which is really more of a weird thing to do than a prank, but better than nothing, which is what I have the creative energy for right now. So give a girl some snaps. I laughed my head off as I was hiding potato people in my mom’s car.
P.P.S. I do love you, Google. Thanks for Gmail and stuff. I appreciate u bebe.
This post will probably crash your browser if you’ve got a computer that is weak and puny in the heart, so upgrade your RAM and tell that browseyatch to take her GIFs like a CHAMP.
It’s time to BINGE GIF! To do a GIF-STAND! To say “Blogtender, Line me up a row of GIFS!” and then look at them all until you PUKE!!!
Don’t look at animated gifs and drive.
So, this was me last night after writing fervently for… more hours than I care to tabulate:
Brain: Dude, you voluntarily stayed late at work to finish a post about how animated gifs are impacting the U.S. election coverage and then skipped dance, an H&M x Anna Dello Russo pre-shop, and two open-bar parties to go home and WATCH THE PRESIDENTIAL DEBATES?
Me: Yeah, but it’s not like I just watched it or something. I made fun of on the internet too.
— Lauren O’Nizzle (@laurenonizzle) October 4, 2012
Me: FOR THE LULZ, OKAY? Gahd.
Brain: Who are you?
Me: I dunno, Who are YOU?
Brain: I’m you.
Me: No, I’m me. I’m so much more me than you are.
Thanks, internet, for all of the hyper-engaging and irrevent real-time humour that accidentally turned me into someone who kind of knows what’s going on in American politics right now… ish.
Last weekend, I told a group of aspiring bloggers how important it is to be innovative and entertaining but still consistent with your tone and theme — To give readers something they can expect and that they’ll want to come back for.
It’s hard to do that when you write a blog about your life though, because people are constantly evolving. Especially in their 20s, jeesh.
I don’t know if I’ll ever find a focus for this blog. Hey, I’m not very focused. I do promise you this though, dear readers;
1. I won’t ever stop posting pictures of my own face on my blog because, like many women my age, my self worth is based upon my appearance and I really like attention (here’s a picture of Brock and I taken by Becca at Dudebox‘s party on Friday.)
2. I will never, ever stop loving things that are hilarious.
Jeff Wysaski’s “every infomercial ever” video hit the web last week inaboutsandaround the same time that this wicked stream of awkward infomercial GIFs on imgur got picked up by the blogs.
I don’t know if the video spawned the gifs, if the gifs spawned the video, or if one just brought searches for the other to light.
It’s like the age-old quandry “which came first; the chicken or the egg?” It’s a problem that I don’t really give a frick about solving because there’s no way of knowing, chickens are cute, eggs are delicious and that’s all that really matters.
Here are some of my favourite infomercial gifs of life. I hope you enjoy my narrative:
Good night, moons of my life, suns in my sky, Tom Hardy pictures of my desktop background…
Last night was the nuit, but today is the DAY. I’m packed and ready and PINK to go with an hour to spare and so, I blog.
Those are my new SKULL MITTENS (complete with a coat string to keep the mitt-monster away, thangyouvurrymuch.)
I busted them out, perhaps a bit hastily, for Nuit Blanche (the 9th ever in Toronto) last night because 2010 and 2011 saw me blue-lipped and shivering by midnight.
This year, not so much. I was boiling after 10 minutes, but sheet, that was the least of my problems.
Everybody’s mad drunk mobbing through these streets. You know an event’s outgrown itself when nobody can handle it sans sedation. #sbnbto
— Lauren O’Nizzle (@laurenonizzle) September 30, 2012
Nuit Blanche is the caribana for hipsters. #snbTO
— Parv (@parvdos) September 30, 2012
If you’re on a bike, you better ding that bell. Losers running into streets, taxis are swerving, drunk people barfing on curbs. #sbnb
— shedoesthecity (@shedoesthecity) September 30, 2012
Call me a curmudgeon, but here’s the thing — Fighting your way through throngs of wasted tourists is hard. Fighting your way through throngs of wasted tourists when you’re sober, exhausted and agoraphobic is hell on earth.
It was as if every 20-year-old in the GTA (outside of the actual city) decided to throw on their finest Lookbook.nu outfit, come to Queen West in a pack of 12 and Tweet photos of themselves drinking out of flasks next to random glowing rope-light thingies.
Like, FRICK OFF. I appreciate the economic impact of this event and the money that those tourists(‘s parents give them to) bring for the night, but it would be nice if the people who pay to live in these neighbouhoods you puke all over could enjoy them during special events like this too.
Is it ironic that when I Googled “stupid hipsters Toronto” my face is in 3 out of the top 5 search results? I think I may spend too much time making fun of stupid hipsters on my blog… It’s just such a consistently lulzy topic…
Bwahaha, Hipster Jesus.
It’s unfortunate that I can’t deal with the crowding of Nuit Blanche though, because I really love the ideas behind so many of these exhibits. I spent hours picking out the things I wanted to see, despite knowing that I’d likely only hit about 5 on my list. It wasn’t in vain though — I actually have fun reading about the installations each year. Quietly, in my safe, overflowing-porter-potty-free home.
I did hit one of the exhibits on my list, but by the time I got there my phone had already died — so courtesy of Sue Holland (who, judging by her Twitter feed has a lot more patience for crowds than I do and saw tons of great things) here are SPACE INVADERS IRL!
Wicked shot. Those green buggers had me grinning from ear to ear, even as I was being body checked by some huge guy with a kid on his shoulders. No, no worries – how could you have seen me there with your eyes obstructed by a Blackberry screen?
I saw some other cool things on my walk back home when I emerged from the alleyways:
I would have loved to see Douglas Coupland’s Museum of the Rapture (one of my favourite authors – Canadian, too) but the lineup was hours long and this kid had a curfew. More on that next post.
Enough of my emo ranting though.
Republican, Democrat, apathetic cavern-dweller or betchy Torontonian, we can all agree that something (okay, many things) about these weird-ass gifs are insanely funny.
He may be a wealthy robotic deeb, but hot damn is he ever giffable, that Mitt Romney.
Also in awesome — neurowear’s brain controlled wagging tail. YO SANTA:
Time to fly!
I had big plans for this morning. I was going to sleep until 10:00 am (for a treat – you know,) go to the gym, hit American Apparel and buy myself a pair of high-waisted hipster mom-jorts to go with my new top from NastyGal, maybe get a pedicure — Lord (and everybody with eyes) knows I need one. I was going to paint my nails. Style my hair. Eat a nice, big salad.
Instead, I spent my morning trying to defend the house I’d built in Montreal (also this morning) from a huge flood, while trying to get Channing Tatum to notice me and ALSO figuring out a way to cure myself from Malaria. Which I’d also contacted from a skeleton monster this morning. In my dreams. By the way, have you seen the trailer for Magic Mike yet? Holy man.
The irony is that the very land of dreams which kept me captive all morning is the one I’ve been avoiding all week to the detriment of my own well-being.
I’ve been averaging 3 or 4 hours of shut-eye per day for the past… month… And as my mom would say, “You’ve got to pay the piper, eventually. ”
I wasn’t ready to pay, but that Piper needed to collect. And so he did. All over my Friday, FRICK.
I could feel it coming last night.
I came home to grab a snack before the gym, but decided to watch the rest of NBA Finals Game 2 at home with Sean before walking over. I lasted all of 20 minutes on that couch before I was snoring in his lap.
I woke up around 4am on the couch, Tweeted a few times, picked some raisins out of the Raisin Bran box (they’re better than regular raisins) and crawled upstairs to bed. My alarm was set for 10 a.m.
Perhaps my mind was able to block it out, knowing that I’d booked today off for NXNEi. Knowing that I didn’t have anyone depending on me. Maybe me ears are just shot from all of the STUPID LOUD MOTORCYCLES tearing through West Toronto lately.
Now I’m at the gym, blogging on the elliptical trainer because lord (and everyone whose ever lived through NXNEMMVA weekend before) knows that I won’t get a chance to work out again until Monday night. And working out is my Dom Perignon. It’s what keeps me sane.
I’m going to grab a Boostah Joose after this and run out to hit… 5 different parties before Andre Williams and the Sadies at midnight. First up, and undoubtedly the best of all these parties will be Tim McCready’s annual NXNE BBQ.
It runs until 11. You can still get tickets at the door I think. You should come. And if I don’t see you there, well, it’s 4am last call in Toronto all weekend so you’d best believe I’ll be dancing in front of a stage somewhere.
Look for the throng of blondes being carefully watched by a piper in the wings. I can only hope he waits until Monday night to strike again…
In the summer between my second year and my third year of University, I was a legitimately nocturnal creature.
Breakfast came in the form of Chinese food at 5:00 p.m. and dinner was (usually) a fat wad of cash in my pocket at 3:00 in the morning. The better the tips, the bigger the wad. The bigger the wad, the more stoked I was to go party after work with my fellow bartenders and friends — well into the next day, sometimes.
It was a scene unlike any I’d ever known up until that point. I felt cool and I was in love with that.
On the nights I didn’t feel like going out, shutting ‘er down before sunrise was never an option with so much Redbull in my system — even if I was just at home playing GTA on the Xbox.
I didn’t have a tan come September, but I’d earned more money than all of my school friends combined (which would probably be a lot more money if any of my friends had actually worked that summer.)
When school returned, I stopped sleeping during the day and tarbending returned back to its rightful spot in my life as a “weekend only” part-time job.
It’s not a part of my life at all anymore, but I still struggle with insomnia. Always have. I think I have this — and also this.
It’s 2:38 a.m. now and I’m still working on a personal project of sorts. I should get back to it before I get into 4Chan and Craigslist. Then I’ll be up REALLY late.
Something for you, dear readers. Harvard athletes cover Carly Rae Jepson, and it is good:
Haaaaahvard. I love it there.
Sometimes I miss the days of unrequited curiosity, before we all carried Google in the palms of our hands.
Back in 2002, our playful cafeteria debates were solved with (semi)educated logic and creativity. Passion.
Now they’re solved with Wikipedia before they even begin.
A photographer named Frank Piccolo took that Cyberpunkish photo in Windsor when I was 20. Six years ago. I was still using a desktop computer in my dorm room and nobody had a data plan yet, but I was deep into the web at the time nonetheless. I was also into Philip K. Dick. Styled those computer cords meself, I did!
“I want to be a cyborg when I grow up,” I used to joke.
I don’t joke about that anymore.
We’re like information vacuums, all of us. Ravenous. Insatiable. Some of us, more than others.
They say you can be addicted to the Internet and I probably am — but can I even afford not to be anymore? This is my life. Without it, who am I? What would I do?
I was up until 4:00 a.m. last night just clicking and finding and reading… Reading things that made me think and then thinking all night…
Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!!!
There. I needed to lighten the mood a bit…
Nope. Still not light enough. Time for a HOLOGRAM PAC BREAK:
Here are a few more things that made me think and / or laugh last night:
- A Marshall McLuhan’s Twitter account. The fact that it exists and that somebody maintains it makes me feel good. It would a downright shame if nobody had done this. Kudos, whoever you are.
Faced with information overload, we have no alternative but pattern-recognition.
— Marshall McLuhan (@marshallmcluhan) March 30, 2012
- Pretty much everything in Douglas Coupland’s Twitter feed.
Photoshopped or real? twitter.com/DougCoupland/s…
— Doug Coupland (@DougCoupland) March 31, 2012
- Something Coupland created a while ago that I only found on Tank’s Magazine’s website the other day (CLICK TO EMBIGGEN):
- This dude who made a jersey out of pop tabs:
- Nobody won a Pulitzer Prize for fiction this year — the first time in 25 years judges have chosen nobody over anybody else. The photo that won for breaking news is hypnotizing and horrifying. You need to see it, but be forwarned.
- My childhood dreamboat is Zach Morris is actually kind of creepy. Here are 10 reasons why.
Zacky be bogarting that shizz!
Annnnd on that note, it’s way past my bedtime. Sweet dreams of Hologram Tupac, my friends! Fingers crossed he comes to your town with Dr. Dre soon enough…
Oi, ickle biddies. Happy “It’s not Monday anymore”
I remember seeing her name pop up round the webs a while back (actually, I think I discovered her first on Matt Barnes’ portfolio), but never took the time to check her out. After finally seeing this video, I very much regret that. It’s sick as that pale kid from the Secret Garden, holy man:
MRAOW! Imma ruin you ____….
That fooking BEAT-t-t-t-t. She’s got flow, too. Raunchy as sin, cute as a puppet. My kind of rapper
I also kind of love how openly disses her competition whenever she gets the chance (no disrespect to Kreayshawn or Nicki, both of whom I know read this blog religiously.) Starting feuds is stupid, right? Except for when it’s not.
Anyhoo, I’m glad I finally gave Ms. Banks a thorough creep. I can feel cool calling myself a fan right now while she still in that “post-Internet famous but pre-hit single on the radio” zone.
GIRL CRUSH 2 = A Chicago blogger named Samantha that I know little about other than the fact that she’s the coolest person on Earth right now. Please read this hilariously poignant post. Well worth the time spent, I promise.
GAHDDAMNIT READ A BOOK, BOYS!
I can honestly say that I like it one thousand times more than the original because a) it’s awesome b) HUNGER GAMES and c) The original is creepy as hell.
What kind of guy would actually get himself blown up for a girl and then have the nerve to be angry with her for not wanting to do the same? Bruno Mars. That’s who.
Oh. The lineup for Coachella was released today…
Is it a sign that I’m losing my cool if I think this year is kind of “meh” (save for day 3, which rules entirely)?
The Twitter kids are all “OH EM GEE AMAZEBALLSZZZSSS, THE BLACK BEARDS AND UNITARDLET! TOGETHER AT LAST!” but I’m not into many of the bands performing on the first two days. Sorry Pitchfork.
That said, I’ll still go if I can swing it.
How sick would it be to see Snoop and Dr. Dre In Califor-nigh-yay? And the mysterious prince of TO hype-music himself? Snning among legions of sweaty young bathing suit clad thangs in the middle of nowhere…
The vlogs… the vlogs! The videos and street-style snaps would be legendary. You should hire me to cover it for you, magazine editor / website editor / newspaper editor / TV show producer.
Rolling Stone Managing Editor? I’m a good journalist, I am…
I was, at least, before I sold out to ad-land.
Anyhoo, I just finished shooting an unboxing video for my sweet new Tassimo brewer! The love is already strong. You’ll see it in a couple of days if you come on back here. Until then, here’s a photo of WILLIE’s experience with the Tassimo(‘s box):
Cats. Drats. Cat Tats.
“Whatevs. I could never get a Samsung – I’m creative…”
“Dude, you’re a Barista.”
Well played, Samsung. Well played!
I’m a total iPhone douche, but I love that commercial to death. Truth be told, it really makes me want to play with the Samsung Galaxy S II and see how it stacks up. I guess that’s the point, eh?
I don’t even mind that they make fun of my kind… in fact – I kind of love them for it. Hey, If we can’t laugh at ourselves then what can we laugh at? You know, aside from the misfortunes of others and cats smacking babies…
Ha. HA. Stupid ugly baby had it coming.
Butttt back to the
iPhone people are sheep video Samsung ad. Hipsterbashing will never grow old to me — especially when it’s creatively done and smart, like Dyna Moe’s Hipster Animals illustration series (which is still going strong by the way, did you know?)
They’re just getting better, too.
If you haven’t seen these characters yet, please go scroll back through every single page of the Tumblog like I did last night. Ultra lulzy and bang on, too.
I feel so good looking at these, but I don’t even understand why. Schadenfreude? Familiarity? Humour? Appreciation of colour and shape? It doesn’t really matter, I guess. They make me smile, and that’s not an easy feat these days (wahhhhh).
Lately, Dyna’s been posting some photographs with captions of Hipster Animals in the wild, à la:
I simply can’t get enough of theeeeese, so here are a few more:
Frick, just go check out the Hipster Animals Facebook Page already or something. This shizzissGOLDAH!
And to bring it all back home, here’s a fun little Hipster Girl Dress up game. Cute concept, but I don’t find the options to be all that hipsterish really. Just kind of trendy. I actually own this outfit, no joke. You probably do too:
Oh yeah. HAPPY THANKSGIVING to my Amurrican readers and friends! Google Analytics tells me that a great deal of you hail from the mighty You Ess of Eh. Do you eat Pumpkin Pi there too? Mine isn’t dead yet.
If I were you, I’d be thankful for the fact that I could legally live and work in a place that doesn’t get depressingly dark and balls-freezing for 7 months of the year. Or that I could live in New York City. Because the weather doesn’t even matter when you’re living in New York — YOU LIVE IN NEW YORK! Home of all that is grand.
Wanna trade passports?
Love always, that iPhone-clutching, Starbucks-drinking, dubstep-loving, American Apparel-wearing blogger who lives in Liberty Village with her boyfriend, a cat, 7 computers and hopefully someday these two-tone quilted Zoe wedge ankle boots by Sam Edelmen:
Oh god *sobs violently into her vintage furs* – who have I become?
Is that all there is?