Drifting thoughts of a snowflake

Wednesday, October 27, 2004

Are you my drinking shoes?

I just received an email from a friend inviting me to his parent’s birthday party. The last line of his email read:

“So glad you’re coming, bring your drinking shoes”

Ah yes, the drinking shoes. I do have a shoe fetish. I love my shoes in a way that most strait men reserve for dogs and gay men reserve for liquor. Let’s see if I can explain it.

My all time favorite drinking shoes are my Mary Janes. They look like this without the sparkles. Now that I see they have a pair that can out do Dorothy, I might upgrade. These puppies are usually trust worthy enough to not let you fall down regardless of the amount of liquor your liver is trying to process. My MJ’s are tall and patent leather, but I’m afraid my love lust is fading.

Here’s the story:

I dropped off Cal after the Beastie Boys concert last weekend, and immediately had to “go”. I’m one of those people that when I have to go, I have to go. I don’t care where I am or who’s around, I’m going. Yes my mother would be horrified to know this about me, but she has enough on her plate-so keep it quiet.

I pulled into a dead end street and jumped out. I ran behind my car, squatted down, started my business and immediately fell backwards. I looked over my shoulder and there right behind me was this bad boy. Thanks, Mary Jane! I blame you.

This really isn’t the funny part. The funny part was that I had dressed in pseudo costume for the concert. The theme was “imaginative pageant”, and I used this as an excuse to pull out my 1960’s vintage tuxedo. The suit is a combination of polyester and velvet. The tux is tailor made for a very petite woman, so the legs and arms are a little short on me. The bottom of the pants are belled out and short, so they look best with my Mary Jane’s. To top off my ensemble I wore a long ponytail wig, silver eye shadow, and blood red lipstick. Imagine a Texas call girl, not quite a street hooker, but close.

The bad part of the story (I’m sure you’re wondering how much worse it can get) is that once I fell, I couldn’t get up. I was sprawled out on the pavement laughing hysterically, which enabled me from pulling myself up. Then I became desperate as the following scenario played itself out in my head.

The next morning the construction workers show up at the house they are building at the end of the street. As they pull up they notice my car. They walk around my car and find a woman in a pint sized tuxedo wearing a fake ponytail and tons of makeup, who has passed out in a puddle of her own urine in front of a port-o-let.

Luckily that scene gave me the inspiration to pull myself up, no thanks to Mary Jane. Now who’s going to be my best girl? The combination of chic, stylish, comfortable and forgiving is not an easy relationship to replace. I am on a mission; I will find my true love once again. I cannot let my friends down. If it’s drinking shoes they demand. It’s drinking shoes I will deliver.






by body item ;

4 Comments:

Blogger Mark said...

i'm sorry, but you're _so_ not allowed to decide the funny parts.

but you're right. it did get better...

7:26 PM

 
Blogger Wayne said...

Sorry, but I laughed so hard at this sorry....

Oh gosh, I'm still laughing....

8:27 AM

 
Blogger Wayne said...

hahhahhahaa... I'm still laughing..

12:19 PM

 
Blogger Jennirhiow said...

*laughing*... i'm sorry.... *still laughing*.....

i'm so so sorry!! that was so funny... *burst into another bout of laughter*

*wiping tears* oh dear... u poor thing... *hugs* at least we know u can be counted on to wear the right shoes! *laughing again*

9:59 PM

 

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