What Shoe Are You?

I have decided that I am a round toe shoe girl. But sometimes I wish I were a pointy toe shoe girl.

The pointy toe shoe girl is sassy, brave, girly and a bit delicate. She sometimes plays dumb and helpless and people do things for her. Jennifer Lopez is a PTSG. Round toe shoe girls usually play it safe, are a little shy but confident and practical. Drew Barrymore is a RTSG. I can sometimes get away with the pointy toe shoe but it can exhaust me and I have to be willing to maintain the persona of the pointy toe shoe girl for the duration. If I'm in the right mood it's easy, great fun and I wonder why I'm not the PTSG all the time, look how good I did today and how hard could this be to do all the time? I love the bitch kitty. Then I get home, take off my shoes and make a pained, kind of gutteral sigh and put on big socks or sandals. Or I don't even make it to the car before I turn around and put on cowboy boots, which, while having pointy toes, are not really considered an option for the PTSG.


Being a RTSG isn't all bad. We're the badasses, we need the round toe and sturdy heel so we can round-house kick and stomp on the gas really hard. We're not delicate, we're not afraid of bugs or of getting dirty. We are taken seriously and people think we're funny. And most importantly we can temporarily become the PSG and pull it off. PTSGs just clomp all over the place and ask people to drive them places or carry their stuff in the round toes.

However, I still sometimes wish I was the pointy toe shoe girl.

Stupid Heaven

I've always been afraid that I'll end up in Stupid Heaven. It's the place in the afterlife where people who died stupidly go. There are two sections. The first is for people who really should have known better. The guy who heats his house when the power is out by running a generator in his garage with the door closed and asphyxiates. The idiot on the motorcycle driving 85 in a rainstorm without a helmet. Or the Darwin Award winners. If you've never heard of them take a look, these are serious imbeciles or at least wildly uninformed.

The other section is the one I fear for myself. It's accidentally dying stupidly. Going down into a flooded basement, turning on the light and sizzling to a nice pink inside. Sitting underneath the giant TV in a sports bar and hearing the sound of popping metal and then wearing the TV while again sizzling to a nice pink inside with the accompanying head wound. I always see the news headline or the CNN crawl in my head, "Woman Dies When Carriage Pony Attacks" Or dying ironically, which would almost be worse. Like the blind man who invented curbside markers to help the sight impaired who was killed crossing the street. "He developed Blind Signs to keep stuff like this from happening, and this is a hell of a way for the point to get across," said his wife. She's right.

Stupid Heaven is one of the things I fear.

Now what?

So I'm told there are something like ten million blogs started every second. Or every minute. Or maybe it was ten million dogs. I don't think I got that one right. I'm supposed to join those masses with my own blog and while I confess this is one act of self-indulgence I have been wanting to participate in, I haven't made the time. And after hearing that statistic (regardless of its accuracy, it really was some huge number) I am at a loss as to what I could possibly say that would interest anyone other than my mom, brother, husband and best friends. If even them. The few blogs I do read I don't visit with any regularity and the ones that interest me the most are liberal diatribes that just exhaust and depress me (with the exception of my BFF, Muriel Puce, who writes liberal diatribes but also about his cats). So now I'm trying to come up with something to write about. Here are some subjects I'm considering:

Rants against the asshats who seem to be multiplying at an alarming rate; these could be aimed, for instance, at the moron with the gigantic pick-up taking up two spaces in the parking lot. The fact that you think your Confederate flag-bearing Ford Attempt to Overcome Some Sort of Inadequacy is entitled to additional space on this earth tells me an awful lot about you.
Rants against the idiocy of this administration and their obsessive need to squander my taxes in hundreds of ways so that my two-year old son is already in debt to the tune of $29,681.29 And so are you. About how they've systematically raped social programs (and they're not finished) with astoundingly ridiculous rationale, dropped our veterans with the speed of a socialite picking up a dog turd on her carpet and think global warming will work out fine if we all just change our lightbulbs.

Things I am currently thinking; why do I read James Patterson novels when I hate them and I am convinced they make me stupid? I read them really fast, as if I'm trying to get some kind of taste out of them. Like the way you might eat low fat cookies, one right after the other as if they could all add up to the taste of an actual real cookie. Luckily I've taken myself off of JP novels and am now reading Bel Canto by Ann Patchett, a lovely novel written by a real writer. I will follow that by something by Dickens as I am ashamed to say I've never read him. I chose The Scarlet Letter over Great Expectations in high school and regretted it immediately. I would have switched but that bitch Michelle Steele already had it and wouldn't budge. Can't really blame her for that.

I could write about my son like other people who go on and on and on about their kids. Little Aiden said Poo today and isn't he cute and brilliant? Isn't Emily a genius because she crawled three feet. Blah, blah, blah. It's like hearing about someone else's root canal.But then my son is a breathtaking miracle with a dimple who makes me glad to be alive every single second of every single day. His little sweet-corn toes enthrall me and when he said, Mama, last week I cried. So I really can't blame those schmucks who love their kids. I'm a schmuck, too, I totally drank the kid Koolaid.

Tell me I'm wrong:




His name is Jason Drew.











I'm not sure what this will evolve into but I am perfectly satisfied that my first blog entry is about what I should write about in my first blog entry. So I think I will just call it a day and finish some work. It's been fun.