Wednesday, January 24, 2007

The Shoes That Saved My Life!

(Not really, but they are really fabulous)

WOW! Look! I’m not dead! The three of you who do read this brain damage causing blog may be wondering where I have been. Let me tell you. I was abducted by aliens. Yup, they just sucked me up in their ship and made me play cards with them. I couldn’t leave. Just up in the mother ship hanging out. It was a lot more boring that you might think. They aren’t very good at conversation, everything leads back to them talking about anal probes and I’m all like “Okay, whatever, enough about that. We are playing bridge and I just have to tell you, conversation about probing of the buttal region is completely inappropriate for a bridge game. Maybe it would be appropriate for a poker game but definitely not this.” And they’d be all “Ohhhhhhh…” giving me that look with their big shiny eyes and all…

Um... yeah... so where was I? Oh yeah, so I have been MIA because of aliens and being abducted. Except I wasn’t really, I just thought that being abducted by aliens sounded better than admitting that I was just fucking depressed. Yeah, just fucking depressed. So I just didn’t have anything that was even remotely cheerful and happy to write so I didn’t. In fact I didn’t even talk to people. Didn’t read much of my e-mail or take many phone calls. Because I was depressed. And ya know what, that’s just depressing. I know, I suck as a friend for not returning e-mails or phone calls. I didn’t think you really wanted me pissing in your Wheaties so to speak though. But I’m feeling better now. This past weekend I got the old metaphorical crow bar out and pried my head out of my ass. It’s amazing how that can change ones shitty outlook on life. That and a little therapy. And that of course brings me to… My Day of Retail Therapy AND THE SHOES!

Yesterday D was over (I have my time share dog Coco back for a couple of weeks. It’s good I was starting to wonder when I’d have custody of her again. I’ve got a hankering to have a hot pink pooch!) and she had the urge to shop and drag me along. Usually I don’t indulge in retail therapy because I’m a broke dick and I’m incredibly cheap. Currently being unemployed means that my spending money is non-existent. D took pity on me though (well paid me for watching Coco) and financed the therapy for the day.

As with all therapy, it always starts with a lot of mixed feelings and often is painful and frustrating though hopeful. The first place of therapy involved me trying to find a pair of jeans. Now let me take a moment and explain, I don’t wear jeans. I look shitty in jeans. I’m the wrong shape to wear jeans. It’s an abomination. The mirror in the fitting room reflected the abomination that was high lighted with the harsh fluorescent lights. Out I went to model the horror for D to witness. Children cried and old people wet their Depends as I emerged from the fitting room in the terrifying ensemble. The jeans hugged places they should have never come near, they bagged in places they should have hugged and they were two feet to long. I myself had to fight off the urge to jab my own eyes out with spoons at the very sight in the mirror stareing back at me with a pathetic twisted visage. (It didn’t help anything that we had left to run a quick errand early in the morning and I had not bothered to wear make up… or do anything other than clip up my hair… or to wear decent clothes… yes, yes I was looking all of Britney Spears fatter older sister who has the same terrifying fashion sense, all I needed was a baby to almost drop and a K Fed look alike to complete that look.) Hopes dashed by the deceitful jeans, I chalked it up to a learning experience – I learned to not shove my ass in a pair of them!

Later that afternoon the clouds parted and the angels sang as we went to another place to continue our therapy. I scored a shirt and some half price perfume. The trauma was over. One more stop and I heard the cherubic choir as I sat in the shoe department and convinced my offspring to bring me shoes to try on… I convinced Cabbage Patch to actually PUT the shoes ON my feet. I knew this was a sign of celestial harmony. And then it happened, Cabbage Patch brought THEM to me. The shoes were ringed with a heavenly aura as I looked on with awe. She placed them on my feet as though The Creator himself (instead of Liz Claiborne) had just made them especially for me. I gazed lovingly at THE SHOES as she fumbled with the buckle (then impatiently shoved her aside as I strapped them on). With much excitement I took a few steps in them and was delighted that they were amazingly comfortable. I was in LOVE. After a short moment of hesitation I allowed D to convince me to buy those bad boys and we were off! Take a gander at the photo of THE SHOES. Do they not look as though they were made by a heavenly presence? Oh yes, yes they do. And now I must go and snuggle my shoes before bed.

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