Monday, 22 June 2015

I BOUGHT NEW SHOES AND OF COURSE THERE WAS DRAMA

camouflage pattern, Jian Ghomeshi, Payless, shoes,
I'M TOLD SOME PEOPLE 
actually use their bathroom 
for bathing. Weirdos.
Some of my more loyal readers may remember when I did changeroom battle with some random slut and emerged victorious. (The less loyal readers will be beheaded at the end of this post. *ululates* "WHORRIFU AKBAR!") 
 It was all over a pair of cheap camouflage-pattern jeans, because here's the thing: I simply cannot RESIST camouflage patterned anything. Seriously. You could put a camouflage patterned Jian Ghomeshi on my doorstep and I'd take one look and agree to go on a date with it. (Although, come to think of it, that may be exactly the fate that sociopath deserves.)

Which is how I came to be in possession of these mouthwateringly adorable double buckle faux suede Christian Siriano camo pumps. Which is a very fancy way of saying "Payless." I was at the store with a friend on Friday and not intending to buy a goddam thing, but then I saw these shoes and stopped dead in my tracks. 
"Omigod!" I gasped. "LOOK AT THESE!"
My friend emitted a rictus grin. "Ah. More camo pattern. Moving on ... " 
But they were already on my feet and I was doing the giddy prance of the shoe fetishist. My friend tilted the box and said, "They're sixty bucks."

Shoe buzz instantly ruined. I'm on a budget at the moment and $60 for yet another pair of shoes was going to be hard to explain to my empty dinner plate. ("You're feeding us nothing? Again?" "Yeah but these shoes..." "These shoes? THESE SHOES? Can you eat pleather? Is camouflage patterned plastic a food group? 'Oh, here, hon, have some more shoe! I made plenty!' Goddam you, you crazy bitch! I'm starving!")

Gloomily, I took the shoes off and left them at the checkout counter while my idiot friend continued to look for a pair of craptastic sneakers. But no sooner had I put the box down than some chick spotted it and yelped: "These shoes are FIERCE! How much are they?" 
"They're on sale," the clerk said. "Twenty per cent off."
WHAT? The little whore hadn't bothered to share that crucial bit of information with me. I flew back to the counter and snatched the shoes out of Miss Thang's thieving hands.
"Actually, those are mine. Sorry."
"But they were ..."
"I just put them down for a sec while I ... while I ... Here," I flung my debit card at the clerk and mentally calculated 20 per cent of $60.
"That comes to $23," the clerk said.

I gulped. Really? Should I point out the mistake? Or should I simply assume that I suck at math? What would Jesus do? That's ridiculous, Jesus wears sandals, he wouldn't understand. Where IS that idiot friend of mine? We have to go. We have to go NOW! The only person in the world who understands the urgency of this situation is that IKEA lady ...



Anyway, to make a long story short, I got home, I read the receipt and realized the shoes were deeply and legitimately discounted so I can wear them without fear of being hauled away by the shoe Gestapo and they are now my favourite favourite FAVOURITE shoes. Until I stumble across a pair of camouflage patterned Manolos or Lugz or *shudders* Crocs. Jesus Christ. Do they even make those? Because as God is my witness, I would buy them.