For those of you following the shitstorm taking place in my life, you should know it hailed diarrhea on me yesterday. I’d been eyeing this pair of Palladium boots for months and finally committed to my first purchase on Amazon in a moment of weakness.
A day later a mysterious $464 Long Island Railroad charge appeared on my debit card, making them the most expensive pair of boots I’ve ever owned. Thanks, shady Amazon seller. After I cancel my debit card, I hope your train crashes.
Regardless, I’ve been looking forward to the boots, as if they were going to solve all my problems. The package arrived yesterday, and I happily signed the etch-a-sketch my UPS guy carried with him. I couldn’t get into the box fast enough! It felt like Christmas, except instead of my parents buying me boots, the government did. (Did I mention I’m unemployed?)
I dumped the peanuts from the box all over my kitchen floor and laid eyes on my new favorite boots. The first thing I noticed was that one looked a little bigger than the other – no matter, so are breasts and they still manage to fit into a bra, right? That’s when I detected the more significant problem. They were both for left feet. Two left-footed boots, two different sizes, one girl standing in her kitchen speechless.
I went through every stage of grief in the hours that followed. At first, there was denial. I stared at them for 10 minutes like I was trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube. Was I high(er than I thought)? I looked away and looked back, looked away, looked back, expecting to see a right boot if I strained my eyes enough.
Then came the guilt. I remembered several of my past regrettable e-bay purchases, all of which took place because I didn’t read the descriptions quite close enough. (I spent $50 on a tester bottle of perfume once – but the image size was HUGE!) Perhaps I’d failed to see an asterisk next to the boots? I returned to the website thinking I might find, “*Both boots are lefts” at the bottom of the page. Then I remembered that no one in the world has two left feet*.
Next came anger. I thought, “Fuck you, Amazon! I’m wearing them tonight anyway.” I put them on and resembled something of an accidental clown. I laughed at myself and managed to move onto that acceptance and hope stage of grief. What a bunch of overrated bullshit that stage is. So I went back to the anger stage, logged onto Amazon, and ordered another pair of fuckin’ boots.
I can’t decide whether I want to shove dollars down his pants or co-host The Grind with him.
I wonder what terrible tattoo the shamrock armband is hiding.
I wish I could’ve been there when he got the bad news on his “Days of Our Lives” audition and needed rent money this bad.
Kids, always remember, when you give up on your dreams, you’re not alone. There are plenty of Halloween costume models who thought they were going to make it one day too. (At this point, I’d consider “making it” getting to model a cop outfit.)
Yesterday Megan Mariah (I can see the similarities already) Barnes crashed her car while attempting to shave her pubic hair behind the wheel. She told officers she was “meeting her boyfriend in Key West and wanted to be ready for the visit.”
And you thought your car was dirty.
I applaud this woman. Anyone who’s confident enough to maneuver a pink lady Bic down there sans shaving cream while multitasking is my kinda lady. I usually get a handheld mirror out and pray for no earthquakes.
The razor burn’s probably not going to be a big hit in jail. Not to mention, she crashed into another car while a razor blade was inches away from her clitoris. Mugshot, shmugshot - I want to see the nether region damages! (No, I don’t.)
Megan’s tombstone should say: Bad driver. Great girlfriend.
The driver Naomi Campbell punched in the face the other day is dropping all charges against her. The dude’s lawyer issued a statement saying his client “overreacted.” There’s no way this incident didn’t happen. The bottom of Naomi’s Wikipedia page reads like the last season of Dexter.
I’ll sum up her Wiki page for you. “Several stitches” are involved in most of the cases against her, and there’s mention of blood spatter when some bitch showed up to a hotel with the same dress she was wearing. That, of course, isn’t even including the housekeepers (yes, plural) she’s maimed with her bejeweled cell phone.
Does anyone else think Governor Paterson had something to do with the charges being dropped? I was hoping Naomi’s Wiki page would tell me she was Paterson’s aide in the “Early Life” section, or I’d find out that Paterson’s eye injury was due an ill-timed piece of plastic ricocheting off Naomi’s assistant’s skull into his retina, but no luck.