It really is time to give up on my shoes. My favoured type of shoe, of which I have 6 varities, is a flat soled mule. They don't sound appealing by that description but they are cool. You know the ones you get for like ?20 and they have a sole about a half cm thick? Oh and every person that sees you in them asks why you are wearing your slippers. You know the ones I mean now? They are lazy person shoes and sit cool with any trousers. My best pair are my pink and furry ones which are so like slippers that they probably are. However, these shoes do not allow me to walk faster than a pensioner on downers because if I do walk at a normal person pace I walk out of them, like the time I got on the tube and one slipper stayed on the platform and was stampeded by rush hour workers. I lost her to the Northern line. Also, because the shoes are so cheap and so very summery, the sole is fully smooth and has been my downfall twice lately. The first occasion I may have told you about, if I dared type through the humiliation. I was in the cooler of our shopping centres, avioding the snow shower outside and casually passing AB10 and the ginger crystal lady who always looks at me oddly when I I lost control of my mule and fell on my knees, skidding forward and knocking passer bys flying for miles. As if this wasn't shameful enough I then could not get up because the floor was so slushy and had to crawl forward to push myself up on my elbows on the door mat to the soundtrack of laughing crystal lady and her gay mates. Not cool. Anyway, I should have learned that my mules are no more suitable in wet weather than polythene bags but alas, I am a sucker for punishment. Yesterday I suffered a similar incident in the hands of R S Bloody McColls. So much of a hurry was I in to get my breakfast bar that I just couldn't handle the wet tiles and there was nothing I could do but wait for the hilarity and the crack of my ass to fall out by 4 inches. It wouldn't have been quite so tragic if I didn't have a completely heel-less sock on which with backless shoes is clearly not the done thing. SO there I was face on the ground with ten pounds of crack oozing everywhere and one great big hard skinned heel on view to the masses with my Lil Red creased up in agony at the state of her girlfriend. She managed to just scoop me up by my belt loops as she threw claims of skidding the length of the shop around. And people say I'm the one who exagerrates...
And so the shoes which are actually as about as comfortable as a nail ridden dildo must go and I will venture out of the house in no shoes which do not have grips a tyre, could it feel human emotion, would be jealous of.
Going to see Britney with all my buds
Twister Moves, impossible by the way
Poached eggs and oatcakes
Kelis - Milkshake
Funny Boy - Selvadurai
Carol - Patricia Highsmith
The unusually wavy side of my hair
Your Face Or Mine
My stubby, poorly painted nails