So the darling new pinupgirl pumps made their debut the other day. I hadn’t expected the rave reviews to come so soon, but there I was, 8:30 a.m. in the dentist’s chair, about to get a filling. As my dentist gently withdrew the J.Lo’s Ass-sized novocaine needle out of my piehole and moved to place it on the counter, she finally noticed my shoes and squealed with delight (this, BTW, is a huge advantage of having a girly-girl dentist).
Dentist: “Ohmygod! Your shoes! They are so cute! They’re absolutely darling! Where on earth did you get those?”
Me: (novocaine kicking in) Awen’t they shew adaramable? I knew eshhheewwwn as I saw mem dat ah musht ha mem like, immidianetery!
Dentist: “My daughters would love those, where can I find them?”
Me: Ewe cn geff um offfff beeeenoffkoffinghoff-dot-nam.
Dentist: “pinupgirlclothing-dot-com huh? Great, thanks for the tip!”
Later, whilst having lunch with Toni and gabbing away as girls do, she stopped mid-sentence, pointed down and exclaimed “ARE THOSE THE SHOES??? I knew I recognized those shoes!”
See, so I have made the shoes famous. Now all I need to do is smack them around and get them in dirty movies where they will feel exploited and used and develop a drug/wine cooler problem and write a tell-all book denouncing me and my abusiveness and joining a religious group that provides support and understanding for other exploited shoes. I can see it all now.