Well lucky you for all you betches out there, today gets to be a double header (don't you dare go there with that thought). I've gotten such an enormous response from the first post, I've had to ask my email provider (Gmail) for my own server. Done and done. You might not see any comments on the post because, in truth, I had to remove them because Blogger was all up in my shit for the space they were taking up on their severs.
That's what I call a douche-tatorship. But now for something more serious (and honestly, sinister).
I'd just like to humbly call something to your attention, people. Something that's been under my sharkskin/fur (depends on whether we're talking North or South here).
These shoes.
They're not cute. They're not some patterned optical illusion that will make your feet look bigger and let you feel better about your own personal insecurities (Mr. Tobey Maguire). I'll tell you what they say for those of you who don't speak apparel. They say "the rest of me isn't really that interesting and if I try calling attention to any other part of me, I'm only setting you up for imminent disappointment and a God complex".
Think about it. What ungodly curse must you have to try and make your feet a point of interest. Do you know who looks at feet? Depressed people. Trust me, I know. They walk around all day with their head hung low. They stare at the floor. At shoes. Those are the only people who do.
That and stingrays.
But they can't help it.
Regardless, I'll still stomp their Steve-Irwin-killing asses. Especially if they're wearing these monstrosities.
On an unrelated note, check out this bunny I made (click to see animation):
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