Shoe Personality of the Week: 02/08/10

It was a sign. Or maybe it wasn't, but I'm choosing to take it as such.
I saw this shoe & fell immediately in love, projecting all the places I could never wear it to, with it's 5 inch back busting heel. No matter. And then I got an email notifying me that it was on sale for 1/3 the original price. Despite knowing the shoe would only be put in a glass display case, I was willing to pay the $75 for it, vs the $185 just so I could say I have it. In the end, it wasn't meant to be, just like it wasn't really in the beginning. The email came 2 days ago and I hadn't bothered to check email while snowed in 'cause I just didn't care. When I went to grab my museum piece...the sale was over. They were gone.

The spirit lives on though. This shoe feels like the kinda shoe you could beautifully stomp the shit out of somebody who has proven to deserve it. It's construction is rugged, but airy, leaving breathing room for your feet to respirate while you get into whatever shenanigans, good or bad, these shoes inspire in you. I can feel an urban date, walking with a special someone down a concrete pathway to partake of tender vittles and tasty spirits where the beautiful people go. I imagine the eyes that can't help but to look down in admiration of my find.

Unfortunately, the admiration piece doesn't have as much pull for me as the shit kickin side though. Right now I'm pissed off at the insanity that masquerades as my school chancellor and the mayor of my city. For some reason I can see them both in some official room, her sitting on the desk and him on his knees sucking her Venis. To swallow or not to swallow is the deciding factor on whether school children and their parents have to brave it through astronomical amounts of snow (that will freeze overnight) to make it to school. As the superheroine that I am, I see myself, [fur] caped down, red spandex and these shoes. I swoop in through the window, see this blasphemy taking place and commence to kickin the shit out of them both. On my way home, I swing by a coworker's place and kick the shit out of her dog and the windows to her vehicle. But I don't wanna get too far off topic here.

Yes, this shoe sparks my imagination in a way that many others don't. It's beyond beautiful to me. It's a muse. I feel artistic as a result. I'm sorry it won't ever be mine, sorrier still that my back wasn't designed to support 5 inch heels. It doesn't matter. I've got my picture and I can come visit it whenever necessary. For now, though, I'm just thankful that I didn't have to get anyone's blood and snot on my dope shoe. The mayor must've swallowed. No need for me to take the fur cape out of the bag and my shoe gets to maintain her integrity.

I'm stupid. I know...

Watch me move.