Tag Archives: shoes
Romantic Dinner?
Posted on 26. Jul, 2011 by Lighting Expert.
On their anniversary night, the husband sat his wife sat down in the den with her favorite magazine, turned on the soft reading lamp, slipped off her shoes, patted and propped her feet and announced that he was preparing dinner all by himself.
"How romantic!" she thought.
Two-and-a-half hours later, she was still waiting for dinner to be served. She tiptoed to the kitchen and found it in a colossal mess.
Her harried husband, removing something indescribable from the smoking oven, saw her in the doorway. "Almost ready!" he vowed. "Sorry it took me so long — I had to refill the pepper shaker."
"Why, honey, how long could that have taken you?"
"More’n an hour, I reckon. Wasn’t easy stuffin’ it through those dumb little holes."
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redoing my bedroom a little help?
Posted on 19. May, 2011 by Lighting Expert.
Okay first my bedroom is my everything not just a room I sleep in -_-
anyway
I wrote a list of the first things that came to my mine here it is
red
black
hot pink
neon green
wolf/husky
dark
history
unique
colored lights
office (im going to do some business stuff and dont have a home office)
vampires
glitter
Egypt
lamps
rugs
curtains
canopy
shoes (have lots)
cd (lots)
tv
Billy Joe (boyfriend)
becky (bestfriend)
art (becky is an artist)
can someone help me with all of that
I am a bit on the goth/emo side
yes I know those are not the same thing -_-
my bedroom is a decent size
please help me I need ideas for my bedroom
wall colors
bed
desk
everything!
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How to pack things to move?
Posted on 19. Mar, 2011 by Lighting Expert.
I will be moving from my dorm and need to pack things in boxes to leave here so tht I only have 2 suitcases worth of clothes/makeup/toiletries/photos/shoes/books to take home.
I am thinking the first things i can put in boxes are lamp, rug, posters, shoes i dont need (heavy) and winter coats, blankets/sheets, my printer, a trashcan, and small boxes of medicines/office supplies.
Is there anything else i can leave here ??
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North Carolina to Puerto Rico, sell my furniture or ship it?
Posted on 14. Jan, 2011 by Lighting Expert.
First off I will list everything I want shipped:
Large computer desk
Full size canopy bed
Floor lamp
Small dresser
3 seater couch
1 seater matching chair
26" LCD television
Small TV stand
Coffee table
Side table
2 small lamps
Kitchen table with 2 chairs
The rest will be about 6 or 7 boxes of ‘stuff’ (plates, glasses, silverware, clothes, shoes, neccessities)
Can someone tell me how much I can plan on expecting to spend having this moved from NC to PR? Also, I know you have to pay a tax on the items when they arrive in PR, can someone also try to include that on what they think I will end up spending? I am curious as to if this will be a better deal than selling the stuff here and buying new stuff when I get there. ALSO, I thought about getting a washer and dryer off Craigslist and having that included in the shipping since I know they’ll be even more expensive in PR.
I called the Rosa whatever moving company they can’t give me an estimate until Monday, so anyone who has been here done this please give me helpful advice!
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Whats wrong with me..?
Posted on 11. Jan, 2011 by Lighting Expert.
Hay, i have this severe eye twitch tic that i’ve had for a pretty long time now.
It’s a strong urge to kind of blink in a weird way, i always just thought that maybe it was stress realted or something. It kicks in mostly in nervous situations, or whenever i think about it.
I also have a neck thing where i have to bend my head back just to satisfy the urge..
when i was younger i had joint ones, like kicking my leg back or something or saying the word ‘ih’ over and over…Lol…
another thing i do is hard to explain, mostly with song lyrics, or sentences i have to say them over in my head sylabol by sylobal going from my left side to right side and it has to land on my right side at the end…..okay im sure that made no sense but anyway!
do you know what they are?!
i also think i might have an obsessive tiding disorder??
like in my room NOTHING can be out of place, i cant have anything out, just my bed, desk,wardrobe,computer and lamps…i cant have a book out, or shoes on the floor or anything!
even a bracelet on my door handle will annoy me, and my bed has to be perfect! ill spend a good 20 minutes making sure teh sheets are perfect and the pillows lined up perfectly, then ill stand back and look at my room at a distance to see if im happy with it..
what makes me do these things?? please help ! its really annoying, when im older i dont want to be a tidy freak. i know its long so thank you soo much for reading!
Three great answers here,
crunchy pixel, zasek & sugar so i’ll let answers decide the best one 
but thanks a miller to each of you !
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What's making me do these things..?
Posted on 05. Jan, 2011 by Lighting Expert.
Hay, i have this severe eye twitch tic that i’ve had for a pretty long time now.
It’s a strong urge to kind of blink in a weird way, i always just thought that maybe it was stress realted or something. It kicks in mostly in nervous situations, or whenever i think about it.
I also have a neck thing where i have to bend my head back just to satisfy the urge..
when i was younger i had joint ones, like kicking my leg back or something or saying the word ‘ih’ over and over…Lol…
another thing i do is hard to explain, mostly with song lyrics, or sentences i have to say them over in my head sylabol by sylobal going from my left side to right side and it has to land on my right side at the end…..okay im sure that made no sense but anyway!
do you know what they are?!
i also think i might have an obsessive tiding disorder??
like in my room NOTHING can be out of place, i cant have anything out, just my bed, desk,wardrobe,computer and lamps…i cant have a book out, or shoes on the floor or anything!
even a bracelet on my door handle will annoy me, and my bed has to be perfect! ill spend a good 20 minutes making sure teh sheets are perfect and the pillows lined up perfectly, then ill stand back and look at my room at a distance to see if im happy with it..
what makes me do these things?? please help ! its really annoying, when im older i dont want to be a tidy freak. i know its long so thank you soo much for reading!!
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would any1 be so kind and correct my essay?
Posted on 13. Oct, 2010 by Lighting Expert.
I’m not an English native. I would like to have my mistakes corrected.
Recently I have visited my schoolmate Stefan. He invited me to his 18th birthday party. It was the first time I had been to his house. Never had I been to such an annoying place and felt so bad in whole my life.
After I had crossed the threshold, I noticed pink painted walls all around. I was standing in a totally cluttered corridor. Millions of things were scattered on the floor. The windows were broken and the windowsills were covered with dust. I was shocked.
Stefan led me to his own room. On entering I smelt mixed cigarette and weed smoke. I began to wonder “Does Stefan smoke? Since when? He might be stoned.”.
We were in. Naturally the walls were painted pink. Surely it was not a common teenager’s room. There were neither windows nor lamps. Yet it wasn’t completely dark. A blue candle on a shabby desk was glowing. Suddenly I spotted three cockroaches running across the room. I shuddered. It was freezing cold. It looked as though there were no heaters. Luckily I still had my jacket on.
I turned around. One of the walls was totally papered with Justin Bieber’s posters. Never had I expected that Stefan is his big fan. Little did I know about him.
Stefan with a smirk on his face ran computer, played Bieber’s songs and started to sing. It was too much for me. I could not stand it anymore. I dashed out, leaving my shoes there. Never have I talked to him again.
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I have a question about organizing and cleaning my medium size room?
Posted on 18. Sep, 2010 by Lighting Expert.
Well I am 17 and I share a room with my 18 month old little girl.
Things in my room:1 queen size bed,a computer desk,toddler bed,dresser with 6 drawers,3 door cart for tv stand,3 door drawer for lamp,and closet is a mess of unfolded clothes and 2 containers and for basets of clothes.please somon help of and tons on shoes under bed and in closet
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for all teenagers out there. What do you think of my writing?
Posted on 12. Sep, 2010 by Lighting Expert.
Chapter one.
Sylvia wandered across the house. She kissed the walls and made sure that her father closed the water taps firmly. As she ambled down the wooden floored hall, she knew that this house would hunt her in her dreams for years to come. She did not want to leave it. In this house, she unwrapped her first Christmas present, and tasted her first apple pie. She could not imagine that after some hours she would be reading one of her books on another bed other than her velvet bed, for a moment, she thought of locking herself up in the bathroom and refusing to go with her father, but she knew that she needed him and he needed her.
Slowly, Sylvia moved down the stairs with her two arms gathered at her left side and her shoulders pulled up to carry her sack. After placing it beside the main door, she walked back to the kitchen. Inside, the yellow light of the lamp glistened over the purple walls. Beside the refrigerator, a pair of red, high heels stood against the tiled floor. Sylvia approached it and smiled to herself. She ran her fingers slowly over the smooth fabric of the shoes and images of her mother ran back into her head.
Two weeks ago, it was her funeral. Sylvia recalled the feeling of the acidic rain over her skin as she stood beside her father, watching her mother descending slowly into the ground. She wondered what it would be like down there, dark, filled with insects, dreary, but then she told herself. “She’s dead, she can’t feel anything.”
The rain stopped the moment the slender men finished filling the hole ,where her mother was buried, with mud. Sylvia held her father’s hand and kissed it. “mama told me before she died that one day I’ll follow her into a place better than here.”
Sylvia’s father, Mr Wood, nodded. “We’ll all follow her into this better place, but till then we must pray for her. She loved you.”
Mr. Wood kissed Sylvia on her forehead, and they walked back home.
After some minutes, Sylvia waited for her father beside his green land cruiser. She thought whether her father had found his favorite makril in the super market or not. Last year, when her mother remained in bed with her face pale and her eyes swollen from cancer, Mr. Wood lived on makril for nearly two weeks. Some nights, when Sylvia wandered around home, sleepless, she would find her father hiding behind the refrigerator door, emptying a makril pot with a fork.
Sylvia’s cheeks reddened from the sun’s heat. She decided to go into the car and turn on the air conditioner, but the moment her fingers curled upon the plastic doorknob, the rhythmic bell of a bike reverberated through the air. Sylvia knew the sound. The shrill voice of the bike’s bell.
Sylvia turned around as a smile took form over her thin, purple lips. A girl paddled over the bike.
“Ouch.” The bike scaled up a black stone and the girl on it flew high up in the air, her golden hair flowing all around her, and her green eyes widened with amazement.
“Judy…” Sylvia screamed as she ran towards the girl. “Are you ok?’
Sylvia ran her hands over Judy’s slender arm. “Your elbow, it’s wounded.”
Judy smiled at Sylvia and stood up, stroking her round, cherry face from the grains of sand. “Don’t worry it happens a lot.” Judy patted Sylvia on her right shoulder. “I just came to say good bye Sylvia.”
Sylvia turned her face to the ground and her shoulders drooped to her side. “I don’t want to leave. I want to remain here in this house; I want to see you everyday.”
Judy smiled again, and dipped her hand into her yellow skirt’s pocket. She tugged out a crumpled picture. “Here. Keep it with you.”
Sylvia smiled as her eyes ran over the picture. She sat at her desk in class with a strawberry jam sandwich sticking out of her mouth. Judy sat beside her, raising her head and laughing loud. Sylvia squeezed her head for some seconds trying to remember why was Judy laughing in the picture, but before she could get it, Judy came in with the answer. “Mrs. Jackson farted out in the middle of the class; it sounded like a bomb exploding on a twenty miles distance. I could not just help it. My laugh seemed so ridiculous that Elliot took a picture of me and distributed it all over the school. Hope you like it Sylvia. ”
Sylvia crunched forward trying to suppress a sudden laugh. “I love it Judy. I’ll never forget you.”
Sylvia approached Judy and after encircling her with her arms, she rested her head over Judy’s bony shoulder and hoped that she would never leave her. Like a flash of lightning, Sylvia recalled the days she spent with Judy, talking about boys on the tire swing and making snowmen before Christmas. She knew that after she will leave, she‘d recall these days with teary eyes. It was like a knife cutting slowly through her heart.
“Sylvia. I’m back.” Mr. Wood appeared out of nowhere. “Hi Judy. Good luck girl.” He placed three packs of makril at the back of the car and summoned Sylvia in.
At first, the heat ins
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Does this chapter hook the reader?
Posted on 01. Sep, 2010 by Lighting Expert.
Chapter one.
If only she knew what waited for her in their new house, Sylvia Wood, would have wished to go there since the day she was born. However, the gift of the sight was not for this girl.
Sylvia wandered across the house. She kissed the walls and made sure that her father closed the water taps firmly. As she ambled down the wooden floored hall, she knew that this house would hunt her in her dreams for years to come. She did not want to leave it. In this house, she unwrapped her first Christmas present, and tasted her first apple pie. She could not imagine that after some hours she would be reading one of her books on another bed other than her velvet bed, for a moment, she thought of locking herself up in the bathroom and refusing to go with her father, but she knew that she needed him and he needed her.
Slowly, Sylvia moved down the stairs with her two arms gathered at her left side and her shoulders pulled up to carry her sack. After placing it beside the main door, she walked back to the kitchen. Inside, the yellow light of the lamp glistened over the purple walls. Beside the refrigerator, a pair of red, high heels stood against the tiled floor. Sylvia approached it and smiled to herself. She ran her fingers slowly over the smooth fabric of the shoes and images of her mother ran back into her head.
Two weeks ago, it was her funeral. Sylvia recalled the feeling of the acidic rain over her skin as she stood beside her father, watching her mother descending slowly into the ground. She wondered what it would be like down there, dark, filled with insects, dreary, but then she told herself. “She’s dead, she can’t feel anything.”
The rain stopped the moment the slender men finished filling the hole ,where her mother was buried, with mud. Sylvia held her father’s hand and kissed it. “mama told me before she died that one day I’ll follow her into a place better than here.”
Sylvia’s father, Mr Wood, nodded. “We’ll all follow her into this better place, but till then we must pray for her. She loved you.”
Mr. Wood kissed Sylvia on her forehead, and they walked back home.
After some minutes, Sylvia waited for her father beside his green land cruiser. She thought whether her father had found his favorite makril in the super market or not. Last year, when her mother remained in bed with her face pale and her eyes swollen from cancer, Mr. Wood lived on makril for nearly two weeks. Some nights, when Sylvia wandered around home, sleepless, she would find her father hiding behind the refrigerator door, emptying a makril pot with a fork.
Sylvia’s cheeks reddened from the sun’s heat. She decided to go into the car and turn on the air conditioner, but the moment her fingers curled upon the plastic doorknob, the rhythmic bell of a bike reverberated through the air. Sylvia knew the sound. The shrill voice of the bike’s bell.
Sylvia turned around as a smile took form over her thin, purple lips. A girl paddled over the bike.
“Ouch.” The bike scaled up a black stone and the girl on it flew high up in the air, her golden hair flowing all around her, and her green eyes widened with amazement.
“Judy…” Sylvia screamed as she ran towards the girl. “Are you ok?’
Sylvia ran her hands over Judy’s slender arm. “Your elbow, it’s wounded.”
Judy smiled at Sylvia and stood up, stroking her round, cherry face from the grains of sand. “Don’t worry it happens a lot.” Judy patted Sylvia on her right shoulder. “I just came to say good bye Sylvia.”
Sylvia turned her face to the ground and her shoulders drooped to her side. “I don’t want to leave. I want to remain here in this house; I want to see you everyday.”
Judy smiled again, and dipped her hand into her yellow skirt’s pocket. She tugged out a crumpled picture. “Here. Keep it with you.”
Sylvia smiled as her eyes ran over the picture. She sat at her desk in class with a strawberry jam sandwich sticking out of her mouth. Judy sat beside her, raising her head and laughing loud. Sylvia squeezed her head for some seconds trying to remember why was Judy laughing in the picture, but before she could get it, Judy came in with the answer. “Mrs. Jackson farted out in the middle of the class; it sounded like a bomb exploding on a twenty miles distance. I could not just help it. My laugh seemed so ridiculous that Elliot took a picture of me and distributed it all over the school. Hope you like it Sylvia. ”
Sylvia crunched forward trying to suppress a sudden laugh. “I love it Judy. I’ll never forget you.”
Sylvia approached Judy and after encircling her with her arms, she rested her head over Judy’s bony shoulder and hoped that she would never leave her. Like a flash of lightning, Sylvia recalled the days she spent with Judy, talking about boys on the tire swing and making snowmen before Christmas. She knew that after she will leave, she‘d recall these days with teary eyes. It was like a knife cutting slowly through her heart.
If not, how can i make i
