Stud-y this

One of these days these studded shoes are going to walk all over you

and these. durrrr

Imagine this... er, with clothes on, and in the street... looking semi-normal... but hot..

1) Studs walking down the street in Rome. Noooo no no, studs do not walk. They prance. They strut. They look deeply in your eyes for a millisecond, where you fall in love for-ev-er. Often have deep blue or brown eyes, stub-ble, and a beautiful smile. I will not mention their hair. That is another dimension of sexy. Another realm for sensual. We will not go there.

2) Studs on purses and backpacks. Texture-al stud-duction. Is that too much? Do I trespass and punneth too much? No. Because I have studded the sentence with puns. Studs are that in. Be-riddle me with love. Be-riddle me with shiny, metallic delights. Be-riddle me with fine men.

I am delirious.

Just got back from a pleasant stroll towards the beauteous Spanish Steps. We made love with Valentino. We caressed the fine cotton of Dolce & Gabbana. We stroked the fine leather of Gucci. Prostrated ourselves in front of the  Ferragamos. The fine male hired to be a live manniquin at D/G became objectified in our lustful eyes. Good. Good.

No false idols, just expensive ideals. I swear.

More lates. We are off to a fùtbol game tomorrow.

Gracious