Today is Halloween. My office is having a Halloween Costume Contest but I’m not a big fan of a) dressing up in a costume and b) joining in these reindeer games at work – so I opted out of the festivities.
So instead of dressing up, I decided to dress down. Wear something casual and fun. Here’s today’s shoes.
They have a six inch heel. They put me over 6 feet tall. #intimidation *ducking my head in doorways*
So I love shoes. I’m a girl. I also love eyeliner and shiny lip gloss. Call me crazy, but I like being a girl.
The disadvantage of course, with my love affair with shoes, is that I tend to buy too many of them.
After purchasing a new pair of Cole Haan wedges last night, the door to my bedroom slammed shut. Not from a ghost or my best friend in anger, but because I had a cross-breeze a blowing through the condo.
So I did what any sane, normal, well-adjusted girl would do.
I took my best friend’s make up bag and propped it against the door. Then I sneered at it every time I saw it. Which is a lot because my place is teeny tiny.
I sneered because I’m an “everything in its place in my place” kind of girl. I even have a basket next to the front door where all my flip flops live. I don’t like shit just lying around. Purses on the coat rack, pens/paper in the basket, coasters in their holder.
You might call it anal-retentive, but I choose to call it “personal tidiness”. T-Bomb calls it OCD. I will admit that I do count to 10 when I see something out of place before put it back.
So anyhoohaw, the door slams and scares the bejeesus out of me. Made me jump and almost made me spill my cocktail. And that’s no bueno.
I decided to go online to the Amazon gods to see what they have in the form of a door stopper.
This is what I found.
I seriously love shoes…
Like most of my shoes, I fell in love and bought it immediately.
My name is Lisa and I have an addiction.
For those of you who know me in real life, you will SOOOOOO not be surprised by this story. And for those new friends, you will probably not be shocked by AAANNNYYY of this story.
See, when I was younger, I was a hellcat. Woopsies.
This is the story about when I got my brother arrested (yes, J A I L) when we were in high school.
It goes down like this: Friday was a teacher “work day”. So Thursday night was par-tay time. Except, I was on restriction at home for causing trouble and whatnot.
Anyhoohaw, our gang decides “let’s go to the movies tonight!!” and I’m pondering how the hell do I do that when I can’t… When it dawns on me that I am not on restriction from babysitting…
*thinking thinking…*
Here’s reason #3,243 that I never wanted a child. She’d have my smarts. And my stupids.
So… I formulate my master plan:
As I grabbed my handbag and started to leave, I hear my older brother behind me.
BRO: “Oh hey, I can drive you.”
Wha? He was being nice to me. A teenager.
Me: “OK. Bitchin.”
I had him drive me about 10 houses down from my friend Juli’s house.
Me: “Oh hey, yeah, here it is. OK. Thanks. Bye.”
BRO: “Later.”
He waits at the curb of some random house I picked. Holy fartin what the heck? P.U.L.L. A.W.A.Y. I scream inside. I knock on the door, and a nice man in a wheelchair opens it.
Me: “Hi (I might have flicked my hair), can I like borrow your phone?”
WCM: “Sure.” (No weirdness, either btw. A genuine non-freak.)
I wave over my shoulder at my brother and enter wheelchair man’s house. Dial Juli and giggle “I’ll be there in five minutes!”
Our gang proceeds to have a great time at the movies and we’re all giggling and smoking cigarettes and whatnot. But… I don’t go home on time. Woopsies.
Dad gets concerned when I’m not home at the noted time and decides to call Mrs. Smith.
RUT ROH.
Becoming suspicious (I got mad smarts from Dad, mad antics from Mom) he has my bro go get me. You know, to make sure I’m ok.
Bro arrives at the wheelchair man’s house. Knocks on the door.
WCM: “Can I help you?”
BRO: “I dropped my sister off here earlier to babysit. Ummm is she still in there?”
WCM: “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
OK abbreviated version – Bro thinks there is something nefarious going on and poor wheelchair man has no idea the trouble I have caused by letting me use his phone. Poor thing.
Bro is tall and muscular (and blonde – big Swedish guy) and after several ping pong tosses of “No, She’s Not” and “Yes, She Is”, he pushes past the door and WCM is ‘accidentally’ pushed out of his wheelchair.
WCM starts panicking and threatens to call the police if BRO doesn’t leave immediately. BRO responds something like “Oh yeah, how about I call them for you.”
Sirens a-blazing, here come the po po.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I come waltzing in the door. When bro isn’t behind me, Dad asks where he is. “I dunno”, I reply *confused*. He squints at me. Cuz he knows me.
Dad jumps out of his barcalounger and says “Take me to where you were babysitting.”
Rut roh.
I take him to WCM’s house and we arrive just as bro is being cuffed and stuffed into the back of the po po car.
OK, so I really am a bad girl.
All charges were dropped of course. He still talks to me. We even STILL laugh over all of this. Cuz after all, he is my bro and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. He’s a trouble maker too. Probably why we STILL laugh over this.
The other night, I got together with two of my crazy bitch co-workers. Damn, I love these women. WorkItGirl and HotBabyMama.
WorkItGirl asked me last week to help her “shop” for a new man in her life. What the hell did I get myself into?
So we meet up, and I ask “what are we shopping for anyway” and WorkItGirl tells me they are going to Yosemite. Immediately, I conjure imagines of hiking and whatnot. I decide the best advice I can give her is to wear some cute hiking knee socks, some cheeky panties and a hot ass bra. Yeah baby! Cuz that’s how I’d rock the hiking look. Oh yeah, and pigtails. Cuz I’m naughty (shocking yes?)
They don't REALLY have to be hiking socks. So not the point.
I ask WorkItGirl how she met him in the first place and she tells me it was through eHarmony. I’m like “wha?” and she’s like “I kno” and then she tells me and HotBabyMama the story of this guy she met once for coffee. Who was a complete WTF and a funny story. (And not the guy she’s going to Yosemite with.)
So anyhoohaw, she meets this guy for coffee and he proceeds to tell her about his erectile dysfunction. Over coffee. Did I mention it was 10am? Do we not have propriety here? WTF?
She is goaded by her BFF for life to give him another chance. First off, there is nothing wrong with admitting you have ED. I’m lying. And mocking. If you have ED, shut the fuck up. Lie bitch. Especially on the first date. At breakfast no less.
But she decides, okay, maybe I freaked out and should give him another chance. Maybe it was misunderstood?
She meets Mr. ED for dinner.
All is well until dessert. Where he decides to spill the T.R.U.T.H. – over creme brulee no less. Apparently Mr. ED is undergoing a surgerical penile implant to help him with this little problem. He’s really selling himself to WorkItGirl with this expenditure.
Me and HotBabyMama devolve into mindless giggles. Just in time for the waitress to arrive. Whereby I spill the sad truth that we’re talking about penile implants and yes, please, may I have another martini? Three olives, shake it up I like it dirty…
I’m so glad I’m not single. And so glad I have friends who have such colorful lives and stories that allow me to feel their pain, mirth, and currently – joy.
P.S. WorkItGirl found some rockin knee high hiking socks. Schwing!
Boldly Mocking 