Tag Archives: shoes


Is errybody so happy it is FRIDAY!? I am!!

I’m real tired, last night I went out in the big city with Deena.  I knew it was a bad idea when she suggested it, and even though I only had 1.25 beers and was in bed before midnight (my usual bedtime) I’m still tired as all get out.

The night was pretty fun, although I’m starting to realize more and more that I’m just not a good time in social settings unless I am waste face.  The whole time I was standing in the first 3 crowded bars we went to I kept trying to think of excuses I could use to go home and lay in my bed (that didn’t include, “I’m missing Jersey Shore right now”, the REAL reason I wanted to go home).  The bars were hot, there were people everywhere, and drinks were getting spilled all over my suede booties.  Not ok. 

You see, High School Crush and I often talk about my suede booties, for they are my lucky booties.  I don’t know if it’s the fact that they make me really tall, make me look super thin and hot, the fact that they are just really cool looking, or maybe it’s just that I call them booties and he thinks it’s funny, but for whatever reason my booties are his BFFFL.

At the Christmas party, HSC and I were standing at the bar and he was asking me what I thought of his new loafers and he rose up his foot to show me.  When I noticed they had fur on the inside I gasped and said, “Well do they have zipper or do they tie or at least have a place to put your pennies?” and he was all… no, they just slide on, no pennies.  And I was all, oh you’ve been fake loafed, those are slippies.  No one likes to get fake loafed, so he was upset obvi, and demanded to see my shoes:

Bootied.  I couldn’t find the picture of my exact booties, but these are pretty close, instead of the ruffles in the middle mine have a giant oversized suede bow.  Super cute. Of course when I showed HSC the booties, I could see it in his eyes that he thought the booties were like the best shoe ever made, but he played it off all cool and was like, “Yeah ok I like those.”  But now they are kind of a running joke and have taken on a life of their own. 

When we met up at the festival a few weeks ago, we had hardly broken away from our hello hug when he asked why I wasn’t wearing the booties.  I had to be like, “Well it’s raining, and we’re walking a lot, so you know – it’s not the place for the booties.” He seemed upset, but I was like meh, whatever, the booties can’t always make an appearance that would make them less cool. 

But now I kind of think he likes the booties more than he likes me.  Last week when I was sick and told him I was going to OD on Nyquil and rom com’s to make myself feel better, the next day he asked how the booties were doing, and I was like oh they’re fine, but me? I’m dying, thanks for asking.  When I told him I was going out last night to meet a friend for drinks he asked if I’d be taking the booties along and when I said yes he was like, “Oh they’re going to have a great time!” What about meeeee? What about my great time? I take those damn booties where they go! They’d be nothing without me. 

He hasn’t asked yet today if the booties had a good time last night, but when he does I’m going to have to break it to him that they got spilled on last night and are now sporting a lovely jizz looking stain, right on the bow.  Booties got bow jizz.

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