Never Thought I'd Say This

Wear Socks
Originally uploaded by kafkas_undies.

But today, for the first time in my multi-year Maine residency, I was grateful for not being in NYC.

The thought was quite sensible. I was barefoot. And on the street. (On the street, but not “on the street,” dig?) I was busy rocking a pair of hot-but-not-stolen Portuguese kicks. So busy, in fact, that I forgot to wear socks.

You might find yourself wondering, What do you get when you combine non-misogynist-bitchin’ sneaks with naked feet? A sexy look that screams Continental Chic? The ultimate fusion of Sultry and Urban? Yeah, you get that. But you also get blisters. And if you play your cards right, these blisters are accompanied by broken skin, pain, and blood. Sweet, sweet blood. (And by sweet, I mean tangy.)

So there I am, walking. Taking the kicks out, giving the city of Portland the gift of jaw-drop-innovative fashion sense (coupled with a sideways ponytail) and BAM! in a flash, it gets all onomatopoeia and POW! my feet hurt! Why? Because there are blisters on them. After a brief stop at a lovely wooden bench, I proceed to my destination – at this point, shoes still on feet. Then I do my thing. Luckily, said “thing” was an activity conducive to sitting.

But then there was the walk back to contend with. The blessed walk back. There was no getting around it. At least not without spitting in the face of efficiency and my near-militant insistence on self-reliance. So walking back was unavoidable. And the blisters were also unavoidable, since they’d already staked their claim. Like podiatric-homesteaders, those blisters.

So what’s a girl to do? First I tried tucking the back of each shoe beneath my foot, effectively altering the preposition from in to on. As in, walking on my shoes. It was good in theory, but it didn’t last long. My next approach was far more practical. Practical and disgusting. I walked home barefoot. Walked 1.3 miles, door to door, barefoot.

So this seems the perfect time to thank all you people who don’t urinate, defecate, vomit, or otherwise excrete on city sidewalks. Bravo. Truly.

Marilyn Was BiPolar

Marilyn Was BiPolar
Originally uploaded by kafkas_undies.

Or so the wall said.

Now check this: ever wonder how to denigrate a positive personality trait? (Of course you have. I mean, who hasn't, right?)

Well, it's easier than you think. Just watch and learn, and you too can master the fine art of self-deprecation!

People tell me I'm honest. I used to think of myself that way too. But recently, I've had a revelation. It’s not that I’m honest – I’m just lazy and tactless.