Apparently, I was XENA. Warrior Princess.
After a dinner of ice cream and cookies (photos to be posted at my leisure at some point long, long from now), I went out to a hookah bar with some friends. It was bloody frigid out, must've dropped about 10 degrees while I was inside. In any event, had fun: as evidenced here.
I forget the foxy waitress lady's name...but I think I'm smitten. Mostly, because she had this cool tat on her belly that said MEOW. Trampy? Perhaps. Cool? I think so. Especially when paired with a belt that boldly declared:
IT'S NOT GOING TO LICK ITSELF.
She also told some funny 'That's what she said' joke.
I don't know what this 9 is for or what it had to do with Christmas...nor did I check the number on the building. But it made for a nifty backdrop, if nothing else.
Coat by Walter; Elbow length gloves by some Italians; Leggings via Strawberry; Bag by Wilsons; Hat by H&M; Scarf from random vendor; Boots by Frye
And then dinner:
Check out the moon...via the chain link fence under the Whitestone Bridge, lolMural in Harlem. Pretty cool, huh?
Tunic by Michael Stars; Cardigan by H&M; Necklace via vintage shoppe
I'm not a big soul food fan. Didn't actually know what the term meant until I moved to this country, but nevertheless, I could kill a Canadian logger over a plate of Mac n Cheese. But Amy Ruth's is a really good restaurant for clogging one's arteries and raising the cholesterol. I still object to chicken, steak, and/or fish in combination with one another or on a breakfast menu, along with eggs. Baffled by the concept, to be quite honest.
A pack of starving beasts...I mean, hungry black people...I mean, my friends.