First of all, Happy November, everyone! I still can't quite believe that October (and Halloween) are over, but that just means that the next holiday to start counting down towards is Thanksgiving. (See Britney's new festive outfit!) There's something very magical indeed about a day dedicated towards our eventual slaughter of the Indians, in which we indulge ourselves in gluttonous amounts of turkey and stuffing, and drink so much beer that we end up hitting awkwardly on our exes, or our cousins, or the nearest lamppost.
Drunken escapades aside, I feel it's time for me to rant about something that's been bothering me since we stopped having 80 degree days. I understand that most people are entirely incapable of successfully dressing themselves, but there's an alarming trend that's been on the rise, and I feel it is my duty to put an end to it (by any means necessary) before we have a full epidemic on our hands.
Take a look at this awkward, rather blurry array of boots:
Mmmm, fake leatherNow, there are certain professions in which it is acceptable to wear these boots to work: perhaps you work at a fashion house, or a fashion magazine; perhaps you're a movie star and you wear them around Hollywood; perhaps you're a hooker, and nothing says "tip!" like a fresh pair of knee highs. If you have a "more fashionable" or "more laid back" or "more time on your back" job, then by all means, unleash your inner fashionista and enjoy.
However, if you are: a lawyer; a publisher; work in a business-attire office; over 50; over 250 lbs; you are not allowed to wear these boots to work. Ever. You look - shockingly enough - like a misplaced hooker. I know, that one just came right outta left field. Point is, knee high boots, especially when they're made of bad pleather, and especially when they boast huge zippers, jangling metal, or giant buckles, should never, ever be worn in the work place. The amount of people I see, dressed in a two-piece business suit with a prim skirt, who are also attempting to rock the come-fuck-me boots, is shocking. Especially since a large number of them are past their reproductive years, and frankly, no one wants to see droopy skin hanging over the top of the boot. Somehow, it ruins the mystique.
Now I love boots over jeans, and I have some hooker boots of my own. But even I - with my loose morals and questionable tastes - refrain from breaking them out at work. If I don't do something, then that should speak volumes, people.
Boots aside, I have another question possibly regarding a hooker (you never know): Who was calling Erin at 2am in a fit of drunken excitement, and demanding to talk to me? Your phone number is (oh come on, like you thought I wouldn't post it) 618-558-1457. I'm not entirely sure who from Southern Illinois has Erin's number and not mine, and thinks they're going to get a hold of me that way - especially since I don't give Erin's number out to guys when they ask for my number and I don't feel like giving it. I give them the numbers of people I hate. That's why it's so funny, see?
Please, feel free to reach me at a time when 1) you are not wasted, and 2) it is not 2am, and 3) you're actually talking to me, not poor Erin. Grazie!
However, if you are: a lawyer; a publisher; work in a business-attire office; over 50; over 250 lbs; you are not allowed to wear these boots to work. Ever. You look - shockingly enough - like a misplaced hooker. I know, that one just came right outta left field. Point is, knee high boots, especially when they're made of bad pleather, and especially when they boast huge zippers, jangling metal, or giant buckles, should never, ever be worn in the work place. The amount of people I see, dressed in a two-piece business suit with a prim skirt, who are also attempting to rock the come-fuck-me boots, is shocking. Especially since a large number of them are past their reproductive years, and frankly, no one wants to see droopy skin hanging over the top of the boot. Somehow, it ruins the mystique.
Now I love boots over jeans, and I have some hooker boots of my own. But even I - with my loose morals and questionable tastes - refrain from breaking them out at work. If I don't do something, then that should speak volumes, people.
Boots aside, I have another question possibly regarding a hooker (you never know): Who was calling Erin at 2am in a fit of drunken excitement, and demanding to talk to me? Your phone number is (oh come on, like you thought I wouldn't post it) 618-558-1457. I'm not entirely sure who from Southern Illinois has Erin's number and not mine, and thinks they're going to get a hold of me that way - especially since I don't give Erin's number out to guys when they ask for my number and I don't feel like giving it. I give them the numbers of people I hate. That's why it's so funny, see?
Please, feel free to reach me at a time when 1) you are not wasted, and 2) it is not 2am, and 3) you're actually talking to me, not poor Erin. Grazie!
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