Sunday, February 3, 2008

Misadventures of the Shoes: Charity Brawl

We’re going out! Our little girl is taking us out! About effing time, too. We were born to be wild. That is our whole entire raison d’etre.

What is the point of having ‘fuck me’ pumps if you’re not going out hunting? Or at least going out SOMETHING?

Okay, serious business now. The dress.

No. Not that one. Not that one either. No. Oh puh-leze.

Yes, we understand you want to wear this one. We KNOW you were thinking of this dress when you brought us home, we do. How? We’re the shoes, we know EVERYTHING. Seriously, not this one.

Yes, we know. Yes, you do look great in it. Yes, you do have a body to die for. Yes, it does make men want you and women want to be you.

BUT NOT TONIGHT

WEAR THE OTHER DRESS

TRUST US.

The shoes know. Isn’t that why you brought us home? It’s okay.

Tonight, you are going to look classy, not trashy. You have people to impress. Most of all, you have yourself to impress. Classy, not trashy.

Go on, zip it up. Much better. Don’t you feel proud now? You know it’s the right thing to do. That was the dress when it doesn’t matter. This is the dress for courage. Stand tall, lttle girl.

We’ll make sure our little girl has a good time. We know you haven’t been to a party in forever and you’ve never been to a party alone. Not merely unescorted, but totally alone. You don’t know a single person here. It’s okay. That’s why we’re here. The shoes will be your escorts for the evening, madam.

We’ll make sure you have a good time and you get whatever you want.

Dance, little girl, dance.

Don’t worry, you just dance by yourself. Anybody looks askance, reflection on them, not on you. You just have your own good time. Conga line? What do you think? Limbo was great, loved that, but conga? Oh why not.

"Come on, shake your body baby, do the conga. I know you can't control yourself any longer."

WTF?????

Did that bitch do what we think she did?

No. Can’t be.

"Feel the fire of desire as you dance the night away. 'Cos tonight we're gonna party til we see the break of day."

She did it again. Okay, little girl, you going to handle this or are we going to do it?

"Excuse me. You put your hands on my waist and touched my breasts. You put your hands on my hips and grabbed my ass. If you don’t keep your carpet-munching hands to yourself, I’m going to take you down. You put hands on me like a guy, you get treated like a guy. Do NOT touch me."

Our turn.

"OOPS! Did I stomp you foot? I am SO sorry." Sorry our instep! We feel great!

"I know you can't control yourself any longer. Feel the rhythm of the music getting strongerDon't you fight it till you've tried it. Do the conga beat. Come on, shake your body baby, do the conga."

You know, there’s nothing like going to a charity ball, trying to do a mitzvah and having it morph into a charity brawl.

Take us home, beautiful. Tomorrow is another day.

2 comments:

Independent Accountant said...

Happy birthday.

winged unicorn said...

yeah. and happy anniversary. and a happy fucking new year too...