It started because I had not been the owner of new shoes in several years. So many that I can not even remember if it was before the last time my hair was cut professionally or wasn't. That was, I believe, in the Summer of 2000. I've never looked back. At least not in the immediate proximity of another person, who I would risk hitting with my hair. I'm like a real life Kabuki Quantum Fighter.
I could not decide which "color" was less bad. I asked if it would be plausible to get one of each. I was told yes. However, it turned out that the person who told me that meant one pair each. Huh. Well. That's no fun. It turns out, you can only ever buy shoes in matching pairs, even if your feet did not arrive that way.
I tried these shoes, but I couldn't deal with Dr. Scholls' attitude. Oh yiss, these are so comfortable, it's obscene! It's completely disgusting. Yeah, sure, buddy. Also, while this would not be a factor if I had actually bought the shoes, since I wasn't planning to, it still counts towards the negative score:
These have more wrapping and filling devices than any other box I opened. Most shoes came filled with doughnut paper which needed to removed before the shoe could be tested, and then put back in the shoes which failed. These needed also to be placed into a single plastic bag which was open at two opposite ends. That's hard. Then the bag needed to be sealed with a hot glue gun, coated in wax and dipped in liquid steel. After that you need to get the whole thing within the original box and tightly affix the lid before the molten mass hardens into a shape which will not fit. It seems as if Dr. Scholl thought people who did not wish to buy the shoes would give up and buy them anyway just to get out of repackaging them. Such gall. But I refused to be beaten! Ha hwa! Guess who's still not gellin', whore.
The reason women generally buy so many more shoes than mans, I think, is due the shoes labeled "women's" being so much more varied. All the Man shoes are brown or black, occasionally beige, and beyond that mostly indistinguishable from each other. Woman shoes, however, often look as if a Bedazzler was employed in their construction.
This boot looks like too much effort.
Attention parents: Anyone small enough to wear these shoes DOESN'T CARE.
Shoe shopping should be fun, yes, but it is not. Oooh, dis.
Oh wow, the gold star award. I remember the gold star. I used to get one of those on my chart when I successfully operated a toilet back in the day. I guess shoe joint is growing up.
From the car, I also saw "Famous Footware." Too bad we didn't stop there. I've always wanted to have shoes like Ben Franklin.
If those Spider-Man shoes don't help me stick to walls, I don't want them. Also: the "beauty in bloom" comment on the giant shoe Spider-Man uses the proportional strength of a spider to balance upon his head refers to the malformed primate-like creature (the one that isn't Spider-Man) some day much later than this one possibly not looking like that, but I can tell you it's never going to happen.
I guess there was a big problem of them getting their feelings hurt by cruel shoes. Steve Martin has helped to raise public awareness of this issue.
Haggar clothing. Now you too can wear no shirt and one suspender.
Is the game called foot-ball like poker, so that you're allowed to hide a few footballs in your left sleeve and produce one or three when you get near the goal vicinity? I can't remember what my problem with the left object is. I'm sure I could come up with one, but whatever I was thinking of at the time is lost.
I feel I should mention that this did not take place inside the Haggar clothing store. We tried to go in there, but Cody kept hitting us with a pipe. We did not enter that store, and I did not take a picture of this store's sign. So.
Is this a reference to the store Limited Too or the movie Look Who's Talking Too? And are any of them a grammatically valid use of the word too, and if not, is there any justification whatsoever for the alternate spelling? No, there never is. I have to wonder why movies that think they will have sequels are never called "won," because that would also sound and look incredibly stupid.
Dhalsim's newest fighting techniques have not proved especially effective.
"None shall pass!"
I don't know who Jen is, but evidently she's a master of disguise. If this means anything other than her appearance physically shifting into that of an Oprah, it would not be worth printing. Next issue: THEN JEN TURNS BACK INTO BEING HUMAN.
These are such great magazines, I thought I ought to send a few along to a good friend of mine, who lives in a place where the television reception isn't so good and cable companies do not offer service to, and so would not likely learn of these wonderful stories otherwise.
Thankfully, the convenient zip code allows them to receive postal service.
I don't know much about Nichole Ritchie beyond that she was the recipient of one of the first known head transplants.
I wonder why she chose that one.
I wouldn't have thought emulating the fashion sense of characters deliberately portrayed, and more importantly dressed as hopeless dorks would be a popular trend.
The most significant accomplishment of the film Napoleon Dynamite was greatly reducing, if not stopping altogether, the use of "sweet" as a general purpose positive adjective.
Restrooms closed for cleaning: I imagine there's an unmentioned competition among frequent customers to see who can get this sign brought out.
However, I personally would never want to risk upsetting SANITOR.
It's never too early to crush kid's dreams and help them set attainable goals. This was part of the window exhibit.
Similarly, it's never too early to teach your children about the wonders of Munchausen syndrome-by-proxy. What could be more enjoyable than cleaning up baby vomit? How about never stopping?
Why are dragon sculptures always clutching orbs? What is in those orbs? Are they like Easter Eggs? Why would you hold an easter egg like that? You don't want to break them! Or do you? Maybe dragons don't like candy. Maybe those are the plastic eggs that you need to pull apart, and dragons are too dumb to figure that out, yet still smart enough to know there is a seperate item within of a desirable nature. Maybe that's one of those squeeze toys weird office workers like to have around. Dragons are fairly weird, I suppose. Sure, commercialism and fandumbs have set a fairly rigid and now typical standard of what dragons should be and thus are, but I still imagine that, if I saw one, living, that would be pretty odd, regardless of its similarity to the orb-grabbers.
I'd love to make jokes at the expense of people who buy these pointy Precious Moments figures, but the unfortunate fact is that I wouldn't mind having one. At least I don't own a... oh, gawd, I own a sword. I didn't buy it, though. But I didn't throw it out, either. Hopefully there's still time to seek treatment before I am completely lost.
They like to make a big show with their claws and teeth, but these are more likely to kill someone who tries to eat off of them.
Speaking of that, we later stopped briefly at a place called Burger King. It was not our intention to stay longer, but it looked to me like a tray was being prepared rather than bags.
"Did you tell him 'to go?'" I asked.
"Yes," the one I asked responded.
"But he's still there!" I can't take me anywhere.
Or you, for that matter. Get away from me.