Ramblings of the Mildly Insane

The other day, I was discussing fashion with a friend. When I mentioned that the subject of our debate was wearing a pair of “kick me, kill me” shoes, my friend offered a very puzzled, “huh?”

Well, here’s a definition.

Kick me, kill me is a term used among Caribbean islanders (and possibly elsewhere) generally referring to spiked heels, very pointy or very large shoes.

The inference is that if one were to be kicked by a pair of these shoes, one would surely be dead in a matter of moments.

There you have it. Now, go forth and dazzle your friends with a new term for scary shoes.

It seems my Little Tiger is all about making new friends and can somehow put the fear of God into any living thing, even a two and a half foot snake.

Here’s what the frightened little guy looked like before my intervention:

Here’s what the now a little less frightened little guy looked like after I scooped him away:

(You can click on the images for a larger view)

When I picked him up, he finally began to uncoil. When I dropped him, he sat there stunned for a little while before slithering off toward freedom. And here I expected to have a nice, lazy Sunday afternoon.

It’s 7:33am and I’m bright eyed and bushy tailed. Generally I’d say that’s a good thing — if I actually went to sleep the night before.

That’ll teach me to experiment with energy drinks at two in the morning.

Crap. That feeling in my tummy can’t be a good thing. I think it’s hunger. (Though my body’s still going, I believe my mind shut down half an hour ago.) To eat or to sleep…what a dilemma.