I Need A New Tablet

Upon doing that grossly unpopular Horrid Shoes post, I've realised that I am in desperate need of a new tablet. I could draw these on paper, scan them, and adjust the levels in Photoshop, but I think that defeats the purpose of these being rough story board-esque sketches from my life. So, if you're listening Satan... er, Santa, I'd like to sell my soul for a new tablet so that I can draw more than four pictures of wonky looking shoes before my tablet decides that it only wants to draw straight lines.

Love,

Soulvei

PS In the mean time, here is a picture of a hamster:

A Really Boring Update

You know what I can't stand? Really horrible shoes.


I probably ran into these monstrosities at Designer Shoe Warehouse (DSW). They have a peep toe -the most uncomfortable kind of toe in existence next to one of those creepy looking overlapped toes that old people get- and it's advertised as a winter boot. The oversized boot cuff looks like a chunk of quilted parka and that's the point in which the whole thing stops saying "Winter" and starts screaming "WTF?". The peep toe and peep...um...heel are, at least in my opinion, counter-indicative of any kind of winter weather. Maybe I'm supposed to wear very thick socks with these things or something.



What the hell are these? Those are definitely spikes coming out the back... and the heel is made of a screw with two nuts on each end. I have to give the designer credit: these are some very inventive looking shoes. How are we supposed to walk in them? I am already baffled by women who manage stiletto heels but these just look terrifyingly impossible. The advertisement says that they are made of quilted leather too, making them an investment of over $200. I can just imagine accidentally backing into my dog with these...



A friend of mine called these "Tanks". I call them "Why Did You Put Polka Dots On Them?". I love platforms, even if they do sometimes look like orthopaedic prescription shoes, but these are just an amalgam of poor design decisions. The leather strap under the buckle looks like it's going to put an eye out and the extension over the ankle looks really... off. Maybe, like the peep toe's, these are supposed to be worn with knee high socks.


I want to meet anyone who has the balls to wear these. And I'm pretty sure that anyone who does buy these would have balls. They definitely look like the kind of shoes I see Transgendered people wearing. That's not at all what turns me off about them, though, as several of my friends are Transgendered. It's the combination of the pointy heel with the extreme platform. I'd break my ankles in these in a matter of seconds, I guarantee it.

Despite my opinions of these examples, there ARE some people out there who can wear these and look amazing. And those people are named Lady Gaga <3

Haitus: But Just For the Summer

I'm taking the summer off and will resume posting regularly again in September. My best friend is leaving for the Army for the next four years and I'm trying to give him all the time that I can before he goes.

When I return, look forward to some interesting stories about a Country Wedding involving a goat, how badly I deal with crutches, adventures in shaving the dog, and an experiment involving Xanax-induced air travel.

You can keep up with me on Facebook here if you want to make sure that I'll make good on my claims of returning: Soulvei Winterfall Or, you know, if you just wanna be friends; that's cool too.

Contrary to Popular Belief

I am not dead, so stop using PeekYou to find out where I live: you can't have my stereo. No, unfortunately, real life obligations (such as drinking coffee leisurely in a breakfast nook somewhere in Hackensack) have prevented me from posting for the last two and a half weeks. So I drew you this cat stalking a sandwich who was totes just chillin' with his popcorn bro. Enjoy.

Why I Don't Smoke Weed

Several of my friends and family smoke weed, which is extremely common here in California because it's stupidly easy to get. Since I'm really high strung, I decided that smoking might be a good way to calm myself down for a while. One of my friend's was kind enough to bring some over and let me try a couple hits to see how I liked it.

I was afraid to try it at first.



But I figured, eh, what could go wrong? I took the first hit.



I didn't really know what to expect...



But then I started feeling kinda funny.



Which quickly turned into feeling kinda awesome.



After a few minutes, I decided that pants were a stupid idea. They made an awesome hat, though. The floor was pretty amazing. I'd never noticed how amazing it was until now.



Then I fell deeply in love with the feel of my sectional couch. Good lord, it was soft. Wow.



And as quickly as I had begun to feel awesome, I began to feel the exact opposite. It freaked me out a little but I tried to ignore it.



Things started to get extremely real, in a pretty frightening sense.



Suddenly, it hit me: I really needed to go somewhere.



My friend had already gone home, leaving my poor boyfriend to deal with me all alone.



Home Depot was WAAAAAAY bigger than I remembered. Like, WOAH!



Like, I mean, like... Holy paint aisle Batman.



Damn... so much... things...



OH MY GOD I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!



My boyfriend tried to calm me down but was pretty unsuccessful so he just ended up taking me home, where I spent the rest of the day curled in a ball on the couch.

Why I Shouldn't Be Allowed To Drive

One day, I decided that dropping everything and running away to Tennessee would be a good idea. My boyfriend had 'extra room' and I really wanted to get out of town for a while. Turns out, 'extra room' actually meant 'half of a lumpy futon'.



He worked second shift so, if I didn't want to succumb to cabin fever, I would have to drop him off at work in the afternoon and pick him up at midnight. I could drive anywhere and do anything I wanted, as long as I paid for the gas. Yeesssssssss!



I did this for weeks, learning the ins and outs of the little town that he called home. They had three WalMart's and one Starbucks. I'm from SoCal. That was pretty not cool.



One afternoon, I was a quarter mile from home when a man in a very large truck cut me off.



I have some pretty nasty road rage.





I flipped him the bird and then, feeling very satisfied with myself, turned onto the back-road that lead home...



On a yield green...



Right into an on-coming car.




I was three-thousand percent certain that I'd just killed someone.




The paramedics came, traffic backed up, and I was very mature about the entire thing, dialing 911 with the incredible calm that one always imagines themselves having in a crisis. Some local country people even came over to help.



The girl I hit emerged from the car, completely fine despite her car looking like it'd been hit by a wrecking ball. I was more relieved than a kid at a gas station halfway through a road trip to Wisconsin.



This is when I noticed that the entire front bumper of my boyfriend's car was demolished. I was pretty upset.




I called him at least thirty times before he picked up and explained what happened. He offered to come home to comfort me. I told him not to worry about it and that the car worked well enough for me to still come get him. We would need to take it to the shop the next day, though.



We took the car to the shop which was, luckily, right across the street from the rental agency. We rented a tank of a car and got insurance.... just in case.



The same day, when it was time to take him to work, a huge storm rolled in, flooding most of the town. Refusing to miss work, he insisted that I drop him off a little early "Just in case the factory is flooded". We ran into a few large puddles but the ride there was pretty smooth. I dropped him off and then headed home a different way... which was completely flooded. Most cars were slogging through the water just fine so I figured that my tank of a car would be more than suited to brave the newly forming street-river.



Tip: Pot-holes hide in puddles.




I drove around all day, wondering why the car was so hard to drive.






When I brought my boyfriend dinner that evening, a very observant fellow factory worker pointed out my problem:



Well, fuck...



I had no choice but to keep driving on the bent, flat-as-a-pancake wheel until the next day, when we returned it to the rental agency. Luckily, they had ONE car left for us. We took out the insurance policy again. I drove like a spooked marmot for the rest of the week.