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the boot debacle

09 Apr

Normally, I get along quite well with my clothing. There are a couple instances where we squabble, however, and this morning was one of those mornings.

I woke up four minutes before my alarm went off (as per the usual) and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. My pillow had grown very uncomfortable during the night. This frequently happens, as I get my pillows for five dollars at Walmart and keep them long past their expiration date.

Pillows shouldn’t have expiration dates.

Walmart’s pillows seem to.

Anyway.

So I’m laying there, contemplating whether it’s worth the effort to shut my eyes again, knowing the alarm will start blasting in just a few minutes, and finally I decide to wake up. I scratch my head, run my tongue over my teeth to assess the overnight plaque growth, and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. The college apartments where I live feature beds that are an impressive distance from the floor. I have to do a funny jump/ninjaroll to get into them every night, and in the mornings, it’s a foot and a half drop from my toes to the ground. I ease myself over the edge of the bed and slide nimbly to the floor.

Or at least I try to slide nimbly but I don’t because the arch of my foot comes down hard on the heel of one of my sexy boots. This sends me sliding over and I collapse on the floor with a thud, pulling my blankets down on top of myself in desperate attempt to stay upright. I sit there for a full minute, mumbling obscenities.

Finally I toss off the blankets and glare at the offending shoe.

Me: You did that on purpose.

Sexy Boot: Moi?

Me: Yes, you. Yoi. I don’t know how to say it in goddamn French. You tripped me.

Sexy Boot: I don’t know what you’re talking about, dear. You fell out of bed.

Me: I did not ‘fall out of bed’.  This isn’t my fault.

Sexy Boot: And you’re suggesting it’s my fault.

Me: Damn right it’s your fault! I wouldn’t have tripped if you hadn’t have been there.

Sexy Boot: Well, excuse me for existing.

Me: That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I just mean that if you had been somewhere else I wouldn’t be starting out the day with goddamn ass concussion.

Sexy Boot: Asses don’t-

Me: I KNOW ASSES DON’T GET CONCUSSIONS JUST SHUT UP.

Radio Alarm: -unshiiiiiiine…on a cloudy daaaaaaaay-

Me: AUUUUUUUUUUGH.

I jump up, my legs getting rapidly tangled in the blankets, and turn the radio alarm off with a vicious whack. This hasn’t distracted me from the morning’s first offender, however. I whirl around and face the Sexy Boot. The Boot stares back at me, tittering silently behind the gentle shine of soft black leather.

Me: Yeah, go on, laugh.

Sexy Boot: Oh, stop playing the victim, dear. You’re embarrassing yourself.

Me: *sputters like a sick duck*

Sexy Boot: Really now. If you just wore me more often, you’d know exactly where I was, now wouldn’t you?

Me: Oh, is that how it is today?

Sexy Boot: That’s how it is.

Me: Look, I wear you all the time. I wear you a lot.

Sexy Boot: *sniffs* You wear me once a week. Tops.

Me: Once a week is a lot for boots with heels! Especially heels like yours!

Sexy Boot: You knew what you were getting into when you said you wanted me.

Me: Yeah, I…look, yeah, I know. And I know I wear my plaid sneakers like, way more often than I wear you. But that’s not my fault. It’s just that you…sometimes you slow me down.

Sexy Boot: I slow you down?

Me: I’ve got stumpy little hobbit legs. Heels don’t work well.

Sexy Boot: Well, whose fault is that?

Me: My stumpy hobbit blood, I guess, I don’t know! It’s not my fault that you make me uncomfortable!

Sexy Boot: Oh. Oh. I make you uncomfortable now?

Me: Augh. Are we really doing this at eight in the morning?

Sexy Boot: Well, I wasn’t going to, and then you started stomping all over me and calling me slow and uncomfortable –

Me: Stop, stop stop. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I said those things. It’s early, I’m going to have a really busy day today, and I just…I don’t do mornings very well.

Radio Alarm: -my bodyguard, I can be your looong loooost paaaal! You can be my Be-

Me: GODDAMN SNOOZE BUTTON AUUGH

Sexy Boots: Stop yelling cusses. It’s unbecoming.

Me: GODDAMMIT I KNOW OKAY okay okay. All right. Okay. I’m going to go brush my hair and brush my teeth and pick the pink jellybeans out of the bag Tess left on the table. When I come back in, we’re going to start the morning over.

Sexy Boots: And you’ll wear me today?

Me: I…uh. Not today. Soon, okay? Today is just going to be hard enough.

Sexy Boots: *sniffs in passive aggressive silence.*

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10 Comments

Posted by on April 9, 2009 in Life

 

Tags: , ,

10 responses to “the boot debacle

  1. Sal

    April 9, 2009 at 4:39 pm

    Oh lawd lawd you crack me up.

     
    • saturdayjane

      April 9, 2009 at 5:30 pm

      Aw. 🙂 Thanks, Sal!

       
  2. lisa

    April 9, 2009 at 5:30 pm

    LOL at the ass concussion!

     
    • saturdayjane

      April 9, 2009 at 5:31 pm

      Hehe, I wasn’t lol-ing at the time, I tell you what. 😉

       
  3. La Fee

    April 9, 2009 at 7:44 pm

    seriously, this is the story of my life. ah well 🙂

     
    • saturdayjane

      April 10, 2009 at 12:52 am

      Ah, always good to find someone who can commisserate!

       
  4. Vanessa

    April 9, 2009 at 7:50 pm

    I think I love you. This is awesome.

     
    • saturdayjane

      April 10, 2009 at 12:52 am

      Haha, oh, Vanessa, I love you too! 🙂 We should obviously run away and get married.

       
  5. Brittney

    April 10, 2009 at 9:59 pm

    My heels do this too. I’m not even kidding.

     
    • saturdayjane

      April 12, 2009 at 9:53 pm

      Hehe! 😉 Good to know!

       

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