Shoe Personality of the Week: 9/26/2011
My friend Big Slim, in the spirit of being the Ultimate Sharer, put me on to an unfortunate website that showcases an unfortunate "designer's"...craft(?). & in the spirit of the insane time that I always have when I'm with her, I'm posting this insanely bad...funny...ridiculous bootie. Yes, I'm clowning the isht out of this trashedy's very existence. I don't believe in it's right to Life. This shoe below should've been aborted at the idea stage. But it is STILL funny & ridiculous.
& sooooooo....???
Glad you asked. My life has turned WAY serious within the last few years or so. The things I've experienced, the things I've endured, the positions I've been in, thoughts had, questions left unanswered, answers hovering closely on the other side of a HUGE leap of faith...the fun had been removed. That isn't to say that there was no light or laughter in my world, but the frequency has been greatly diminished by this sometimes whack video game called Adulthood. My parents told me not to rush out & buy this BS but like every other yout' d'em, I grabbed my copy as early as possible. Being the uber responsible child I've always been, I morphed right into a line towing adult. I still managed to have fun. Now, as I cut the line up into bits & pieces, it would seem the fun quotient would raise itself with the removal of all that predictability I had goin' on. If either of us assumed that, we'd both be wrong. Quite the opposite has happened. The result: all this seriousness is making me sleepy. Translation: my life feels tired (read: dull).
**NOTE** this is not the time to remind me of all I have going on. This is subjective. This is how things feel to Me, despite mostly knowing "good & hell well" that my Life is actually quite the opposite.
In efforts to reverse the lullaby affect my life is having on my Life, I'm reaching for as much ign'ance as possible to keep the smiles & laughter allaway turnt up!! I don't know that I'll ever be able to match the ign'ance levels of this daffy, farcical boot, but I can sho' try. I was told earlier today that I'm being too hard on myself, that YES things are tough right now, but my own perfectionist qualities are only further exacerbating my personal trauma right now. Prescription: more fun ("like the kind you used to have.")
Last night I took another dose of the prescription, channeling the good ol' days & participating in a dance battle to the tune of Slick Rick's A Children's Story, complete with faux gold teefes & dookie ropes (not on me). I bobbed my head hard to "jams" from once upon a time, line danced with the latest black twist, & got my new jack on--swing that is--& learned how to do some country arse dance called The Squirrel. They asked how low could I go & dropped it low, allaway to the flo'. I laughed hard & remembered just how much fun it is to be around an entirebasement room full of folks completely committed to cuttin'a fool. In order for me to make it through this current phase of my Life, I'm going to have to chase this feeling like a junkie chases a high. It should help substantially.
But if you ever see me out in the street actually wearing the above atrocities, know that my plan has backfired & that I require an intervention.
Watch me move.
Post Script--to all my prayer warriors out there, please put a few in the air for the woman who makes this madness. Pray that either her friends will finally be kind enough to tell her the truth or that she is suddenly struck by a little something we like to call taste so she can move into crocheting things that are actually possible to be warn in public. Thanks in advance.
& sooooooo....???
Glad you asked. My life has turned WAY serious within the last few years or so. The things I've experienced, the things I've endured, the positions I've been in, thoughts had, questions left unanswered, answers hovering closely on the other side of a HUGE leap of faith...the fun had been removed. That isn't to say that there was no light or laughter in my world, but the frequency has been greatly diminished by this sometimes whack video game called Adulthood. My parents told me not to rush out & buy this BS but like every other yout' d'em, I grabbed my copy as early as possible. Being the uber responsible child I've always been, I morphed right into a line towing adult. I still managed to have fun. Now, as I cut the line up into bits & pieces, it would seem the fun quotient would raise itself with the removal of all that predictability I had goin' on. If either of us assumed that, we'd both be wrong. Quite the opposite has happened. The result: all this seriousness is making me sleepy. Translation: my life feels tired (read: dull).
**NOTE** this is not the time to remind me of all I have going on. This is subjective. This is how things feel to Me, despite mostly knowing "good & hell well" that my Life is actually quite the opposite.
In efforts to reverse the lullaby affect my life is having on my Life, I'm reaching for as much ign'ance as possible to keep the smiles & laughter allaway turnt up!! I don't know that I'll ever be able to match the ign'ance levels of this daffy, farcical boot, but I can sho' try. I was told earlier today that I'm being too hard on myself, that YES things are tough right now, but my own perfectionist qualities are only further exacerbating my personal trauma right now. Prescription: more fun ("like the kind you used to have.")
Last night I took another dose of the prescription, channeling the good ol' days & participating in a dance battle to the tune of Slick Rick's A Children's Story, complete with faux gold teefes & dookie ropes (not on me). I bobbed my head hard to "jams" from once upon a time, line danced with the latest black twist, & got my new jack on--swing that is--& learned how to do some country arse dance called The Squirrel. They asked how low could I go & dropped it low, allaway to the flo'. I laughed hard & remembered just how much fun it is to be around an entire
But if you ever see me out in the street actually wearing the above atrocities, know that my plan has backfired & that I require an intervention.
Watch me move.
Post Script--to all my prayer warriors out there, please put a few in the air for the woman who makes this madness. Pray that either her friends will finally be kind enough to tell her the truth or that she is suddenly struck by a little something we like to call taste so she can move into crocheting things that are actually possible to be warn in public. Thanks in advance.
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