I was perusing for a bruising tonight on The eBays when I came upon this midnight clear:

Seriously?!
I don’t care who you are.
Or how too cool for school you and your handbag may be.
That price is ree-dih-kew-lee.

Even J. Cu shares my disgust.

Total spelling fail.

Ya see those there shoes on ya left? At the time of purchase, I was of the unawares that they are The Most Painful Shoes in Existence. I made the hideous and awful mistake of going grocery shopping in them. I swore that day on my Bible, before God and man, that I would never torture my tootsies like that ever again.

So logically, that meant I was going to wear these to work today. All reason flew out the window when I rationalized that… hey (!),I am at my desk all day. It’s not like I have to actually walk anywhere.

But then there was an Official Board Room Meeting Like The Kind You See in The Movies with the long wooden table and the business suity peeps.

And I had to walk across the building to get there.

I wound up shuffle-ball-changing across the walkway and praying for sweet mercy on my feetsies.

So it’s lunchtime now, and I am ready to violently hurl them from my feet and into the fountain on the first floor  where they will drown and die and go away.

But they are cute, aren’t they?!

I keep waiting for Ashton Kutcher to appear and guffaw, “Jus’ keeeeeddings! You’ze not hiredz! You’ze firedz!”

Though that’s not what Mr. Demi Moore sounds like really, is it? Forget I mentioned that slightly dated pop culture reference because I am no longer in the loop of Cool Things, and I have absolutely no shame in admitting that.

The tunes currently rotating in my automobile music box are spandex sporting Erasure. Oh stop judging, you know you love it.

[ This Is The Point. Sort Of. ]

As far as the job?
It seems I’ve found muh callings.

Thinking about how we’ve clicked reminds me of those Childhood Saturday Morning Quadrupled Stack o’ Golden Perfect Pancakes mom would make:
1. Slathered in the mapley yum syrup
2. Sliced into perfect little squares
3. Buried in copious amounts of drippy buttery butter

Oh pancakes, I miss ye so.

This is why the Steve Sanders posters at Wal-Mart were always in stock.

When loving yourself for the way you were intended to be just isn’t enough: