Boy, do I have some Tales to Tell...
Thursday, December 21, 2006
 
Remember the Sex and the City episode where Aidan's dog, Pete, chews on Carrie's blue Manolo Blahnik sling-backs? How did you feel about that? I myself almost passed out from the fact that that mutt was chewing on a shoe... a precious Manolo Blahnik shoe... I would have put him down at that very moment. I also remember Aidan's reaction of indifference. But it's just a shoe. And I remember Carrie's reaction. No, it is not just a shoe... it's a $500 designer shoe... what the fuck!!!!

Anyway, last night, I decided to get dressed up for dinner with my friend Christine. I wore dress pants!!!!! Flat-front black dress pants!!!!! Not jeans... dress pants!!! AND, I wore a sweater. Not just any sweater. A body-concious v-neck sweater. Needless to say, I was dressed. For those who don't know, an outfit is only as good as the shoes you wear. So, I went into my closet to choose from my 22 pairs of shoes (sneakers not included) and what do I find? My fucking cat had regurgitated all over two pairs of Patrick Cox Wanna-be's and a pair of limited edition slip-ons that I got way back in the day. Thank god my Prada and Yohji Yamamoto loafers were bagged in water-resistant felt bags. I would have had to kick her if they stained.

I was livid. But I was also late for my dinner plans. I put the shoes aside as I cursed the cat. Removed my Miu Miu saddle shoes from their protective felt sack (yes, I know, I have saddle shoes that were made for men... and yes, gay men), threw them on, and ran out the door while plotting the death of my cat.

So, this morning, I clean up the mess in my closet. I also had to carefully clean my shoes (one of which was snake-skin but I'll save that explanation for another post). Before my husband left for work, I told him what the cat did. He laughed and said, "They're just shoes." I think I will kill him as well.

You know what? They aren't "just shoes". They are a collection of art. They are something I hold dearly. I spent a lot of money on these. How do you think an art collector would feel if your dog chewed up his Van Gogh? How do you think you would feel if a cat pissed all over your prized whoosiewhatsits? You would be more than angry. You would be livid.

And for the record, they're not just shoes. They're MY shoes. Later.
 
Comments:
That'll teach you to leave the closet door open!
 
Oh no Tim, not on the Prada. How did the cat find its way into your closet?

I hope you have got the shoes clean and im sure you looked totally handsome in your best clothes.

I hope you had a great night.
Kevin.
 
Oh i completely understand. I called everyone at work one day about a "tragedy". My coworkers simply did not understand the gravity of the situation when I told them my tragedy was that I lost my favorite Helmut Lang sweater.

btw, i've been absent from blogging for a bit. i'll be back soon. I'm just trying to catch up on things.
 
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Eating up the City before it eats me up. I'm a freelance cook who spends his free time working out, cooking for "my man", and wondering why the Right is so concerned about my bedroom.

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