Tea and shoes and bad pickup lines.

This is what I had for lunch yesterday. To the right is my polka-dotted belly, anxious for the sandwiches, cakes, and scones I will soon fill it with. Kelly and I have made Tea and Sympathy on Greenwich Ave. between 11th and 12th streets our haunt. I've written about it here before, as a place where a lady can have a meal by herself and not feel like a loser because the place is so small, but it really is lovelier with a good friend. Most things are. We split the afternoon tea for two by the window, where we people-watched and talked for a long time. People who walked by gawked at our impressive tiers of tea goodies. It made me feel smug. They wish they had that egg and cress.

From Kelly's photography skills with her Blackberry, I segue to mine with my webcam. Here are the shoes I got at the Salvation Army on for $10. I'm a little obsessed.




Purple suede, a few extra inches of height, and toe cleavage should be worth more than an Alexander Hamilton, but I'm just glad I snatched these puppies up before someone else did.

To close, I leave you with a theory I've recently thought up on pickup lines. They're kind of irrelevant to me, because if you're attracted to the person delivering them it really doesn't matter what line they use, you're probably going to give them your number or Facebook name or blog URL or whatever else floats your boat.

Case in point, my current celebrity crush by the name of Joseph Gordon-Levitt. He can currently be seen looking suave in three piece suits while wielding machine guns in "Inception." You should go see it. But without further ado here he is winning me over with a bad pickup line.

I'm sure it would, darling. But if anyone else tried this on me I would run fast in the other direction.