July 15, 2005

Jitters

I'm jittery today. And no, it's not because I'm afraid of anything. In fact, I'm a little bit jittery because I think I'm about to reach my boiling point with those who ARE afraid of everything that doesn't conform to their view Of How The World Should Be. So take that double-edged sword and fall on it, tiresome pronouncers of how the Other Side is the Harbinger of DOOOOOOMMMMM! You're mentally lazy and you suck. The end.

Maybe it's the coffee. Maybe it's yet another round of being disappointed that I feel disappointed about something that I thought I was done being disappointed about. How's that for oblique? But it's more likely the coffee. Maybe.

And I'm jittery/excited about the new Harry Potter book. Sorely tempted to drive 22 miles to attend a midnight party, in fact. But I'll probably wait until the last book is out and The Boy is old enough to read and possibly enjoy some of the Potter oeuvre.

Finally, I am beyond icked out at sockless men in dress shoes. And not because they are oh so daring with their bare man-skin ankle cleavage. No, I am icked because I know about men's feet and what they do in dress shoes. They sweat. They sweat like tiny workhorses with hairy toes. And because they sweat, they smell. So when I see unclad man-foot wedged into a wingtip, all I can think about is the soup of flesh and sweat going on in that unforgiving leather shell, and the resultant funk of forty-thousand years that will be visited upon that man's spouse, should he have one. Note to the brave un-socked--if you're still single, check out the hairless wrinkled toes that emerge after a day sans absorbent foot barriers. Breathe in deeply. Now think. Could there be a connection between that aroma and your current lack of matrimony? It's a poser, isn't it?

This article suggests "no show" man's socks. Which poses quite a different problem--how to avoid the bunchy sock-eating aftermath that occurs when shoes meet low cut socks. And why? So we can see your hairless ankles? It hardly seems worth it.

Ah well. The bright side is that naked man ankles are nowhere near as frightening as this. I am speechless, beyond suggesting an intervention.

Posted by Big Arm Woman at July 15, 2005 11:59 AM
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